As part of the 25th anniversary celebrations of the Niagara Falls Poetry Project on April 9, 2026, Shannon Mitchell on behalf of MPP Wayne Gates presented this congratulatory certificate.
At the celebration, each speaker was introduced with a limerick, and each of the speakers was invited to write and perform a poem of their own.
MPP Wayne Gates speaking in the Ontario Legislature
The introduction to MPP Wayne Gates, written and recited by Andrew Porteus, read:
Our dear MPP is Wayne Gates
And havoc at Queen’s Park he creates
He’s got quite the ‘stache
That makes such a flash
When a cabinet minister he berates
Shannon Mitchell wrote and recited a haiku at the event:
Ontario budget Deep cuts across the board Community rises
Welcome to the Niagara Falls Poetry Project 25th Anniversary Poetry Competition, a juried competition with poems in any form, on the theme of Niagara Falls, (the waterfalls and/or the two cities), with a special award for the poem that best exemplifies the “Spirit of Niagara Falls.” Poems will be added to the website, and published in an anthology of Niagara poetry.
There will be a first place prize of $200, a second place prize of $100, and a third place prize of $50. In addition there will be a $200 prize for the the poem that best exemplifies the “Spirit of Niagara Falls.”
Niagara Falls Poetry Contest Rules
Theme:
Niagara Falls (waterfalls & 2 cities) & Niagara River
Poems can be descriptive, philosophical, spiritual, historical, personal, or anything else as long as there is some connection to Niagara Falls, and not just a casual mention (see the NFPP website at https://niagarapoetry.ca to see the range of poetry accepted).
There will be a first prize winner of $200, a second prize winner of $100, and a third prize winner of $50
In addition, there will be a $200 prize for the poem that best captures the Spirit of Niagara Falls
Format:
No AI generated poems
Any poetical form accepted
Maximum 100 lines
English language or translation – judging will be on the English language translation, not the original language
May be previously published or already on the NFPP site
$5 entry fee, covers a maximum of 3 poems
No gratuitous sex, violence, racism, or hate speech
Judges may not submit a poem to the contest, but will get a free entry on the website & in the anthology, and a free copy of the anthology
How to submit:
Submit in both a standard editing format and as a .pdf
Include a cover page with name, contact information, title, and biography, with an optional head shot (300 dpi minimum)
No identifying information on poem page
Optional Include an image illustrating the poem (min 300 dpi, 600 preferred, jpg), your copyright, copyright free, or from a place copyright can easily be obtained.
Submit payment through etransfer (preferred) or PayPal to poetrycontest@niagarapoetry.ca with message “Contest entry for [Your Name]”
Once submitted the poem cannot be changed
Contest closes at 11:59 pm August 15, 2026 (Eastern Daylight Time)
By entering the contest you:
Agree to have your poem published on the NFPP website & in the 25th anniversary anthology, at the NFPP curator’s discretion (Not all entries will necessarily be published online or in the print anthology)
Receive a 15% discount when ordering the print anthology
Falls Street, Niagara Falls, NY, 1948 Image courtesy of the Library of Congress.
Here is where the railroad tore
Through the edge of our town.
Black earth, black air and the perfect
Angel, steam, sung by whistle
Toots and a language of flags,
Brakemen’s lanterns and the booming
Freight cars tearing dark holes
Through all the seasons.
We were Town of Niagara boys.
The city boys knew it because
We walked in the streets when
We crossed Hyde Park bridge
To go into the city together.
We didn’t have sidewalks.
Our barber shop in a drear
Apartment building called
The Ten Commandments.
Mr. Brunettit’s grocery store,
Where he reigned, cigar mashed
In his face, his wife, small,
Watching from the shadows.
Brownie’s gas station “If you can’t
Come in smile as you go by”, the sign
Facing cobblestones of Hyde Park
Blvd. There was a war in Europe,
Japan. It seemed exotic until
The dead came home and we
Knew their names and faces,
Their mothers and fathers.
The flag-draped boxes and crisp
Ceremony. Taps at Riverdale.
It was good to be from there.
Where the air always smelled.
Chemicals and hot slag in the night
Poured into open fields from
Midnight trams, glowing as our
Lives glowed, brighter than radio
Dials tuned to the news and spoken
Fictions churning it all together.
The town, the trains, the Ten
Commandments, the cigar, the dull
Gas station and nights filled
With the crazy wonder of it all.
Source: The Real “Old Falls Street” People Facebook Group, April 6, 2017. Originally published in D. R. Wagner, Private Archaeology, Bottle of Smoke Press, 2013.
GOD, in His ages past the dawn of days,
Writ one white line of praise,
Which now, in this great stress and hour of need,
I bend my soul to read.
I break the sullen bonds of wearying time,
And with one leap sublime,
Force my astounded soul go back and stand
In the primaeval land !
The tresses of the ancient flood are kissed
With virginal, white mist.
The same soft, thunderous sound
Thrills the wild woods around,
But oh the vast and mighty peace that broods
On these green solitudes,
Where the great land, with one tremendous tone,
Litanies to God, alone !
Tongue of the continent! Thou whose hymning shakes
The bosom of the lakes !
O sacrificial torrent, keen and bright,
Hurled from thy glorious height !
Thou sacerdotal presence, clothed in power,
At once the victim and the white-robed priest,
Whose praise throughout these ages hath not ceased,
Whose altar steams with incense every hour !
Lo, in all days, from thy white waters, rise
The savors of perpetual sacrifice !
I see pale prophecy of Christ’s dear blood !—
The transubstantiation of thy flood !
Oh the wild wonder of the vast emotion
Of the perturbed wave,
That cries and wanders like the fearful ocean,
Seeking, with none to save !
In their wide agony the rapids roam,
A world of waves, an universe of pain !
The vexed, tumultous clamor of their foam
Crying to God with agonized refrain,
Where the sad rocks their quivering summits hide
In the loud anguish of the refluent tide.
Yet, with a willingness that leaps to sorrow
Swift run the ragged surges to the height,
And from their pain is born a pure delight—
The fear to-day, the snowy peace to-morrow !—
Cleaving like darts their swift and silvery way
With sudden gleams, and barbs of glittering spray,
They hurry to the brink, and swift are lost
In that stupendous leap, that infinite holocaust !
Oh Christ-like glory of the praying water
That leaps forever to its mystic death !
And from the anguish of that sobbing slaughter
Lifts the clear glory of the torrent’s breath,
Where like a paean of rapturous victory calls
The solemn jubilation of the falls !
O alabastrine priest—thy splendor spraying
More lasting than the immemorial hills !
O monument of waves, O undecaying
While God’s right hand thy flowing chalice fills !
Under the transient world’s astonished eyes
Thou offerest abiding sacrifice !
In the pale morning, when the rising sun
Flatters thy pouring flood with slanting beams,
Most reverent thy duteous waters run,
And hymn to God with all their thousand streams.
And in the blazing majesty of noon,
Still lifts thy wave its sacrificial tune,
And spills, like jewels of some eastern story,
Its bright, impetuous avalanche of glory !
And in the stilly spaces of the night,
While heaven wonders with its wakeful stars,
Thou prayest still, beneath the solemn light,
In booming tones that reach to heaven’s bars,
Keeping thy vigils, while the angelic moon
Walks on thy perilous verge with glorious shoon,
Chanting from foam and spray without encease
Thy yearning immemorial prayer for peace !
Source: Kilmer, Joyce (ed.) Dreams and Images: An Anthology of Catholic Poets. New York: Boni and Liveright, 1926c1917.
