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Georgia Miller Wiltz
Apr 11, 20232 min read
The Bloor Street
Home is where the heart is, Far from the bustling marts, ‘tis. Looking all those years ago, Moving to-and-fro, An opportunity smiled upon...
Annabelle Trobak
Apr 11, 20235 min read
Anonymous Messages
These messages were written as a goodbye to the beautiful people leaving the campus this year. Look out for your name here, there may be...
Siya Motwani
Apr 11, 20232 min read
Seven to Seventeen
I’m seven, I’m seven and it’s Sindhi new year and I'm sitting silently to the side in the solace of our pooja room’s stone floor tiles....
Kiera Fitzpatrick-Moran
Apr 11, 20231 min read
short poems about small moments
There is no ocean here, no salt water or waves. There is only tap water, flowing over broken glass. There is only you, pouring a glass of...
Marcel
Apr 11, 20236 min read
The House
Chapter 2 of “Sculpture of Our World”, a novel in the works. Chapter 1: https://www.pearson-impressions.ca/post/the-highway Synopsis: The...
Grace Goudie
Apr 11, 20231 min read
Mad Libs Poetry
This month, 8 of our poets competed in a Mad Libs competition. They were given a poem with a bunch of words removed and encouraged to...
Georgia Miller Wiltz
Apr 11, 20231 min read
3 Haikus called “for life”
By reading these haikus alone one might not denote them to mean goodbye. I don’t know if haikus can work this way but together they mean...
Anonymous
Apr 11, 20232 min read
Soldier. Poet. King.
Soldier As I march away from Pearson’s embrace, Through the woods where memories wander, I bid adieu to my best days, With a heavy heart,...
Georgia Miller Wiltz
Mar 21, 20235 min read
Auntie Esi: THE G
Technology has led to immense growth and existence, even to the extent of creating human beings to challenge the supremacy of God, at...
Marcel
Mar 7, 20233 min read
The Highway
Chapter 1 of "Sculpture of Our World", a novel in the works. Synopsis: The World goes silent. The parents stop telling you to go to bed...
Grace Goudie
Mar 7, 20231 min read
Elementary
i. In elementary school we used to wrap seeds in damp paper towels. Their shadows would blotch the white. We would leave them in a...
Patrick Angelo Sursano
Mar 7, 20232 min read
dear tienda
This piece is a letter addressed to the place where generations of my family have tirelessly worked to provide goods, services, and...
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