You are here
A perfect night Arts 

A perfect night

A soft breeze whispers over the wide lake, Smiling at the cloudless night sky.   It was a perfect night: Countless stars filled the air, Surrounding the trees and overflowing into the night.   A shooting star: symbol of false hope A satellite: the impostor among the cosmic objects A plane: pollution in the night sky A planet: seemingly brighter than the stars, they reflect what they have not.   The Universe is grander than the collectivity of every man’s dreams and realizations, Yet mankind tends to see itself as…

Read More
Another Ink Arts 

Another Ink

We cried over spilled ink That pooled into the ridges of parchment, Which held words we wished were made Of the same gold as the sun’s rays. We desired to melt it down, To pour it into an inkwell, That we’d nearly fill to-the-brim, To store it, So, like idiots, we could use it To write of the silver lining That remained.   Written by: Fin

Read More
Petals Arts 


With the colours, That my flowered words provide, I paint a picture, Upon your blank slate. Let it be so, That when your slate has been vandalized, With words of wilt, You lay your eyes to rest. Under your petalled eyelids, Will you then see, The botany of my speech.   Poem by: Valentina Tsilimidos

Read More
The Offer Vanier Alumni 

The Offer

What Does Introspection mean to you? What? For me, it means being aware of my own feelings towards my Self. Stars. It is those fleeting moments during which I view my Self as an Other. Alien. I sometimes catch my reflection. Sad. Our eyes connect like a constellation. Void. I offer my Self a quick smile. Anxious. The smile is the moment. Heat. I am the smiling moment. Cool. I gaze into the eyes of my Self and my Self, as an Other, gazes back into me. Love.   Written By:…

Read More
Her Gift to You Arts 

Her Gift to You

She used strands of her golden hair As thread, To sew the pieces of her heart Back together, Her flesh as a blanket, To keep him warm, And her bones As reinforcements, To keep the house From crumbling down. Yet, as he holds the remains Of her body, Dearly, Like an heirloom Her father passed down to him, He wonders, “Has she always been this small?”   Poem by: Fin

Read More
Innocens Arts 


Un cœur sombrant vers l’enfer a accès au paradis Un cerveau se perdant dans les plaines ensoleillées croira suivre un sentier droit Ils se meurent Seuls mes yeux survivent Ils te voient déambuler dans la neige Rouge sur blanc Toucher est interdit Vous êtes prié de seulement regarder Tes couleurs prennent mes sens décédés Elles raniment le paysage froid Cachée derrière les flocons qui se déposent silencieusement Je t’admire Je reste immobile Silencieuse Je deviens comme ces flocons qui finissent toujours par se dissiper sur le sol Comme si ne rien…

Read More
Stained Glass Arts 

Stained Glass

We are told as children, To keep away from sharp objects, In fear that we might rip a tear, In our freshly spun silk. But like all things, We are in constant flux. Somewhere along the line, Our silk turns to glass, Our tears turn to shatters. Now how exactly, Did they think we could steer clear, Of our own scattered shards? The answer, My dear, Is that we simply cannot. We must pick them up, With hands, however bloody, Tainting every piece. The light of dawn, Will then shine…

Read More
Red Wine Arts 

Red Wine

“Pick your poison” You said as you poured the crimson liquor. Warm breeze, Grassy knees, The sun was out that day. The grass grew long, untamed, Behind our picture-perfect house. Our white picket fence, Was meant to keep the monsters out. “That lawn needs a good mowing” You said as your belly swelled with juice. And I? Well, I complied. I comply with all your words, Yet you still rid my body of its crimson liquor. The sun broke through the clouds, Overhead our jungled yard. It reminded me of…

Read More
Amours Printanières Arts 

Amours Printanières

Il me semble que parfois le temps s’arrête, que rien n’importe Que la pollution, les guerres, les humains, l’histoire, les humains, la galaxie, la nature On s’en fout Rien n’importe On pourrait en finir maintenant et ça ne changerait rien de rien Nous ne regretterions rien après tout Mort et vie seraient synonymes Mais après, il y a toi Les soleils de ma tête s’éteignent, Seulement une étoile, primitive, honteuse, heureuse Reste là, à brûler seule dans l’obscurité Et tandis qu’elle brûle, je me fiche de sortir de l’épave qui…

Read More
Not Your Typical Love Poem Arts 

Not Your Typical Love Poem

We shared boxes of bittersweet chocolate And bottled wine, to lift your spirits. Now that you’ve had your fill, Empty bottles rest at our feet, Catching the tears that fall from your cheeks, So as to keep the grass from wilting, And unread love letters Litter the ground like kindling, Forming a hearth that warms us. So, we feed it with roses, To keep the home fires burning.   Poem by: Fin

Read More