Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Poetry

By: MK Kuol imagine yourself god:a fiery-eyed wool-haired patriarchgarbed in a gold-sashed lightsitting on a sapphire-washed throneeyes stretched taut over this universestretching beyond the grasp of mortalimagination seven scarlet stars blaring songsin your hands a double-edged sworddangling low out of…

Fiction

By: Todd Mercer Yes, I do live in my helicopter. Let me address that right off. People sure enjoy being judgemental about that situation. Nobody understands how it happened, but they have plenty of thoughts to share about it anyway….

Essay

By: Eliza Mimski When I was a sophomore in high school, my English teacher returned an essay I wrote (don’t remember what it was about much less her name–crap!) with the word Majestic! written on top. At the time, I…

Books Reviews

By Nasima Rahaman  Some books are read; others are lived. Born of Clay: The Life and Art of Mala Pal belongs to the second category. I began reading the book without intending to finish it in a single stretch, but…

Essay

By Eugen Oniscu It was night. I was walking home, a little tired and sad, reflecting on the troubles in my family—my mother had remarried and was going through a very difficult time—on the film I had just seen, on…

Poetry

By: KJ Hannah Greenberg Rising Moving upward might mean the sort of stretching that transportsUntold growth, or a curious progression.That is, going up can portend, i.e., can herald, favorable bases, orCan signify spiraling, dreadful outcomes. Standing higher, akin to North…

Fiction

By: KJ Hannah Greenberg My home was littered with cats. There was Susan, Fluffy, Marigold, Tucker, Arwen, Denny, Nearly Spotted, Tito, Moonshadow, and Larry. Except, Tito had gone missing. I frowned as I scratched a mosquito bite on my right…

Poetry

By: Snigdha Agrawal Moving: Simple because they can I asked Mafor a TV of my own,to watchWimbledon reruns,Netflix movies for teens.anything…just anythingto prevent from joiningcommunal watchingin the living roomwith familysimply coz.our tastes collide too oftenbut I saw her face stiffenbefore…

Poetry

By: James Aitchison (pantoum) poverty is a form of worshipfrankly my dear I don’t give a damnnipped by a dog my old dancing bearthe furrows of disbelief (under a red rose tree) frankly my dear I don’t give a damnwe…

Poetry

By: James Aitchison (After Alfred Lord Tennyson) Half a leg, half a leg,Half a leg onward,Moaning and rattling their chainsLimped the six zombies.“Forward, the Fright Brigade!Let’s feed on some corpses!”Hungry for human remainsLimped the six zombies. “Forward, the Fright Brigade!”Look,…