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Best Canadian Poems

Below are the all-time best Canadian poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of Canadian poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Definition & Discussion of Canadian Poems
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See also: Best Famous Poems

Details | Canadian Poem | |


As Canadian as hockey,
Beer or maple syrup and 
More than a donut shop,
A deli or a café, 
Tim Horton’s is
A commons.

Where tired people
Slide into seats
Then loudly sigh.
The vinyl is still
Warm, thanks to 
The last customer.

Some chat or
Argue about the weather.

Two meet, a first date,
Eyeball a couple having a spat
Across the restaurant,
Then nervously eat soup,
Over crumble their crackers,
Choose to say nothing.

A student works on her thesis,
Her laptop perched on the
Small table beside a 
Forgotten bagel. 

A man, about eighty,
Flirts with a younger woman
In her seventies.

Others read newspapers,
Circle want ads,
Read obits out loud,
Share comics.

We gather here
Before church and
After funerals,
During rain squalls
And snowstorms.

It’s open
24 hours a day,
7 days a week.

I once saw a groom
Snazzy in his tux
Stop for a double-double.

You can easily find one.
I counted four
In a five minute drive,
Some are within
Walking distance to 
Each other.

They are in hospitals.

A woman, empty-eyed
Faces a black 2 a.m. window.
That paper cup she’s holding
Is filled with tea and shock
Both grow cold 
In her even colder hand
While in the seat
Across from her
A new dad beams
As he gobbles
Tim Bits.

Canadian soldiers
In Kandahar cheered
When Tim Hortons
Set up shop on 
Their base.

For them,
For us,
It is the taste
Of home.


Details | Canadian Poem | |

Inukshuk- Symbol of the Canadian North

They stand tall like a monument, the wayfarer’s journey guide Rough stones shaped into human form, the meaning to unhide, Inuits first carefully piled these stones, the meaning becomes clear, Traditionally “you are on the right path” or “someone was here”. These unworked stones were used for survival and a method to communicate, Mountain passages or an open channel, the stone placement was your fate. A cache of food was near an Inukshuk without arms or one with anthers attached, For the lost hunter in the Arctic, their beckoning and comfort was unmatched. These rocks are used for navigation, the right direction to select, They can also signify a memorial, a quiet place of respect, Or mark where the spirits abide or where the fish can be found, Think- the amount of information provided, without uttering a sound. Winter 2010, in Vancouver, it became the official Olympic mascot, “In the likeness of a human” is the modern meaning, now it’s thought. I am no expert on these stones but driving northward, I keep a watchful look, And respect the stone monument there to welcome you, the Inuit Inukshuk Written July 30, 2011 For “Stoned Contest” Sponsor Catie Lindsey

Details | Canadian Poem | |

A Canadian Winter

A down day I'm having They are certainly rare No real reason Not very happy I declare Just one of those day The approach of the cold Could it be winter Could be I suppose Each year round this time I'm afflicted by this The on come of winter The warmth I will miss I'm aware of the seasons Three are okay The fourth old man winter Wish would just go away Sure must be speaking For most Canucks Maybe a mild winter We'll have with some luck Who am I kidding It's in Canada I reside Mild pertains to cheddar Not the temperature outside © Jack Ellison 2013 Got dumped on last night... about 4 or 5 inches!!!

Details | Canadian Poem | |


What joy to live in a land where cultures can blend,
I embrace every delight of diversity,
We respect the traditions of immigrant friends,
Kept alive by the citizens of our city –
This made possible through acceptability.
Holidays provide a storehouse of rich pleasures,
This is our bond, our strength and our identity,
We share our histories, our faiths and our treasures.

As the season stalls and the fall comes to its end,
Celebrations start across our community,
Messages of peace and love and hope we all send,
Through Christmas, Ashura and a Day of Bodhi,
Kwanza and Yuletide, Hanukah and Diwali—
Mirth born of pain, echoed in songs of commeasure,
United yet apart, simple complexity,
We share our histories, our faiths and our treasures.

A light in the darkness, we can all comprehend,
Each custom holds a truth for all humanity,
A brilliant pathway that each is welcome to wend,
How much we can learn from their generosity—
Precious are the gifts from the minority!
They do not ignore nor do they at all pressure,
Temple, church and synagogue, all open to see,
We share our histories, our faiths and our treasures.

A practice began with the birth of our baby,
For it’s our duty to first ensure her exposure
To world beliefs, then teach of commonalities…
We share our histories, our faiths and our treasures.

*For Paula Swanson’s “Traditions” contest
**Dedicated to Debbie Guzzi. Her poem on her blog inspired this.

Details | Canadian Poem | |

The Black Donnellys: A Canadian Mystery

1846, during the Irish Famine,
Brittle bones rattled,
Tenants were evicted like cattle,
And so was born the Irish stamina.

Canada opened its new doors,
And scores of the Irish sailed to a better life.
Across that sea, from the county of Tipperary, 
Came a man and his wife, 
James and Johannah Donnelly.

They settled in Ontario,
In the town of Lucan, 
Where many of those Irish,
Blackfeet and Orangemen,
Relit a feud that seemed without end.

James squatted on land,
Back then, not an unusual plan.
He sweated in his fields,
Oft his rage was revealed,
Then passed on to his children,
One daughter and eight sons.
Who were taught before they could walk,
How to both throw a punch and take one.

Patrick Farrell bought James’ plot,
But James wouldn’t leave,
So the courts ordered them to share the land,
Forced to grit teeth and firmly shake hands.

During a barn raising bee,
A drunken fight ensued,
A handspike pierced Farrell’s head.
Johannah worked feverishly,
A petition she began for her man,
Though James was sentenced to hang,
He served 7 years instead.

The Donnelly Stagecoach line,
Got its passengers there on time,
So the competition wanted them gone,
From that moment on barns were burned and
Those Flanagans wanted the Donnellys dead.

The law and the Donnellys continued to quarrel,
They became well known by Constable Carroll, 
Accused of everything from theft to trespassing,
And though they were mostly found not guilty,
They became known as the Black Donnellys.

Then was created the ‘Peace Society’,
a bunch of ruthless vigilantes.

February 4th, 1880, those Donnellys were killed and 
Their home was burned to the ground,
Five in total were brutally slain,
Shovels colliding with brains,
But their skulls were never found,
And so without that evidence,
Murder could not be proven.

There was a witness, a young boy,
Who survived the attack by hiding under a bed,
And he saw over a dozen hooded men,
Take those lives, gleefully.

There were two trials,
But the matter was dropped,
As one of the accused was a cop,
Another Father Connelly, 
So nobody was held responsible.
It’s rather incomprehensible
That the people of Lucan
Still keep the secret of who really
Massacred the Donnellys. 

People swear that horses rear,
Foam and snort in terror,
When ridden past that old homestead,
Where those Donnellys lay and bled. 

Details | Canadian Poem | |

Another Canadian Winter

My window is like a microcosm
Of the great big world out there
Always changing, always in flux
Autumn is in the air

A forerunner of that nasty season
With it's cold and icy winds
Must endure another cruel winter
Icicles dangling from my chin

Would I move to a warmer climate
Should the opportunity arise?
You can bet your sweet bippy I would
In a heartbeat, look into my eyes

Does it look like I'm trying to jazz you
Even reserving a great big kiss
For a P-Soup friend who'll take me in
But it's gotta be warmer than this

I will consider all generous offers
The decision of this judge will be final
Prefer a winner from the opposite sex
Otherwise my offer's unconditional

My window is like a microcosm
Of the great big world out there
Almost forgot to mention the bonus
I've got long flowing flaxen hair!

© Jack Ellison 2012

Details | Canadian Poem | |

Haiku Canadian Geese II

canadian geese gleaning plowed cotton field.. last meal before roost

Details | Canadian Poem | |

For the Canadian Police

How do I express my love for you all - a love that is stronger than tropical storm. A 
fury that will never stop feuding because of the depth of our love that is spoken 
between our hearts. A bond that will never be broken because we are bound by 
love that is deeper and stronger than a tornado storm. Faith has brought us 
together which is destine forever. A love that will never be interrupted by life's 
challenges because our love is bound by a never-ending phrase of our hearts.

Details | Canadian Poem | |

The Canadian Rubber Factory

I got told a joke this morning 
It really made me smile
So I thought I would share it on poetry soup
But in my own unique poetry style

A lady went to the dentist
She sat in the dentist’s chair
She was feeling really nervous
She wished she wasn’t there

The dentist thought he would put her at ease
As he put on his rubber gloves
He told her a little fictional story
Of a Canadian rubber glove factory

Into vats of latex the employees dip their hands
Big hands, medium hands and small, all the workers think its grand
They peel them off when they are dry
And into labelled boxes the rubber gloves lie

The dentist works on her teeth for a while
The lady doesn’t move or crack a smile
Finally the dentistry work is complete
The old lady arises from her seat

She gets on her coat and pays her bill
There is something on her mind still….. 
Do they use male staff to produce condoms in a similar way?
The dentist laughed and said have a nice day

Jan Allison
25th April 2014

Details | Canadian Poem | |

Lost Canadian Goose

Lost Canadian Goose
by Genevieve Stevens

The young Canadian goose was lost in flight,
Not knowing which way to turn-
Now he depended on instinct and sight,
And what he had already learned-

The clouds engulfed all his air space,
And for the skein his heart did yearn-
They were migrating north in springtime,
Towards their nesting grounds to return-

He was sure he could navigate the course,
But he really needed to see-
For now it was against time that he raced,
Hoping that soon with them he would be-

He flew at an altitude of 3,000 feet, 
a normal migration height geese fly-
’but then remembered on a few occasions,
they’d go up to 27,00  feet high!

He tried to get his bearings,  
by estimating their rate of speed-
Canadian Geese can cover 1,500 miles a day,
He’d have to fly faster to succeed- 

The little Canadian goose geared up,
and charged right through the clouds-
He spotted black feathered necks and feet,
and heard honking real loud-

His father was in the lead,
of the “V” formation that geese fly-
His mother was right behind,
Asking, “Where did he go and why?”

The little Canadian goose remained in back,
Until all of them touched the ground-
Mother emerged from the gaggle with glee,
Happy her son was found-

Mom and father were together for life-
In the geese world that’s how it goes-
Now it was this turn to find a mate,
He made it just in time to propose!