Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Month: January 2018

Story: Wait

By: Murari Sharma He was shivering and alone, trekking on a trail in the Annapurna Range of the Himalayas. An unseasonable snowstorm caught him near Kangla Pass and dumped more than two feet snow in a couple of hours. He…

Poem: Dear Father, Who Never Loved Me

By: Joseph S. Pete Dear father who ostensibly never loved me, you valued your vast accumulation of neckties over me, your slighted son. You swaddled yourself in silks and solid colors, Jerry Garcia ties, World Wildlife Foundation benefit ties, bold ties,…

Poem: Brand New Dew

By: Kelly Miller Defending it Altering it Curing it Our Father uses his artwork to save the diurnal He uses his artwork to save the nocturnal Sprinkling his sparkling liquid generously over all the land A second pure gamble A…

Poem: Watching My Heroes Get Old

By: Robert Bermudez I stand and watch the sunset, Russet, then orange fading to pink, The cloud’s gilded edges reflecting, Like God saying good night. Slowly it dawns as it always does, With the inevitable ache of mythic echoes, The end…

Story: A friend indeed!!

By: Aruna Subramanian Nandhini was gazing at the glistening dewdrops on the grasses while waiting for her friend Sheela at the entrance of their college building. Nandhini and Sheela have completed their last semester exams and will be proud engineering graduates…

Poem: Dove and Man

By: Dr Neeraja M A dove is a dove with no colours can only fly till roof bars can only breed with the pre-scaned economy but still the world call it a piece of peace and the dove never knw! A…

Story: Everything Goes in Rows

By: Andrew Hubbard When I was little I laid my peas In a row on my plate And my mother cried. I don’t know why, I wasn’t making a mess.   I laid the green beans Two side-by-side And then two…

Poem: Living over the Store

  By: Andrew Hubbard Well, it’s convenient, no commuting And cheap, our living space Is storage as far as the taxman knows.   We sell everything. You want gloves? We got ‘em. Lipstick, hairspray, tampons? Yup. University sweatshirts? Shovels? Pencils? Flower…

Poem: Dancer

By: Andrew Hubbard The drinks came And I asked the predictable question. “I kind of like it,” she said “It keeps me fit And the money’s not bad.” She blew smoke thoughtfully And fidgeted with an ashtray. “My twin sister has…

Three Poems about Emily by

By: Darren C. Demaree 1.EMILY AS WAVES, WAVES I got these bruises just holding on to Emily as she opened herself up to the full moon   2. EMILY AS THE LAST PRAYER I got fizzy water out of a…