Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Year: 2018

Poem: The City of Gold

By Chinese Poet Yuan Hongri Translated by Manu Mangattu Ah! Into a pleasant hallway of gold Thou did the crystal of the sky mould. A shining City of Gold Chanting unto me from far afield.   Into the golden gate…

Poem: A Zombie Affair

By: Wendy Loh Frozen fountains in the street, My breath was weak and out of heat, Not enough of whiskey, perhaps – ah, indeed! One more round to drown my putrid grief. She loved those fountains down the street, It…

Poem: When androids become sentient

By: Wendy Loh Virtual flowers for lovers in a cybertronic century This is like drinking cheap instant coffee Overtly sweet, flat, quick, with a taste that dives into the bottom of sour bitterness A dead fish soaked in diluted perfume…

Poem: Stardust

By: Steve Deutsch What are we if not a mix of stardust and desire? A shell that screams I want across the wanton landscape Those of us not saintly or demonic may temper ache with kindness, a balm of sorts for…

Poem: Joy for the Timid?

By: Steve Deutsch I have never been one to dive in. At Brighton Beach I’d shuffle seaward, slow as silt, while other children screeched into the ocean at a gallop, more race horse than human— faces shocked from whoa to joy…

Poem: O Pale Galilean

By: Ian Fletcher They crucified Him but He rose again or so they claimed to vanquish death and worldly pain. Who would have thought people as meek as these could bring proud Rome to its knees and thus fall under His…

Poem: Traces

By: Aruna Subramanian Flying across the blue spread sky flapping my wings filled with thoughts, Swimming across the squirming stream wandering the mountains wrapped with trees, Splashing on the rocks Drowning in the falls Rising formless I roam in ruins on…

Poem: To ex-lovers and other passengers

By: Aekta Khubchandani Hold me like you hold words between paper pages of ink and type- that paperback place that once smelled of life. Hold me like slices of meat between your tongue and teeth that glaze through butter plated on…

Poem: I am, I am, I am

By: Aekta Khubchandani She may never have been happy but she was content, that night. An empty house, setting strawberry runners, a glass of cool sweet milk, a shallow dish of blueberries bathed in cream- there were moments of such stitched…