Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Poetry

By: Karlo Sevilla Ephemeral Blessings Dusk, and on the sand we stand quite far apart.Beyond, the sea unfurls towards us, wave after wave. I’m a hundred steps behind youas you likewise face the drowning sun.You, ankle-deep in saline water, wind-blown…

Fiction

By: Erik Priedkalns             James brought home the Little Red Popcorn Maker years ago. It looks like one of those carnival fortune teller booths. It has big, round, wood spoke wheels, and golden tow arms. I could see why he…

Poetry

By: Richard LeDue Written While Vivaldi Reminds Me I’m Tone Deaf Most would rather complainthan realize a strengthdoesn’t make you strongand a weakness isn’twhat makes you weak,but what matters the mostis how you use themto create your own music. Rejoice…

Non-Fiction

By David Sapp Catechism We were Catholic simply because Dad grew up Catholic and remained so because President Kennedy was Catholic. We rarely missed Sunday mass at Saint Vincent de Paul, the limestone Neo-Romanesque church surrounded by a black wrought-iron…

Poetry

By: Benjamin Thorne Parliament of Rooks —for Oscar Wilde A brooding black tempest hovers, then descends.The meeting field swells with rooks, the air groanswith raucous caws that circle the guilty one.Gathered from all realms, the hang-man court,juried by birds of…

Essay

By: Ramlal Agarwal In its early stages, Indian writing in English met disapproval and disbelief. It was argued that no alien language could express the Indian ethos. As such, Madhusudan Datta and Bankimchandra Chatterjee, the earliest practitioners of Indian writing…

Fiction

By: Rehanul Hoque (1) “Mom, look at that beautiful house with the stunning white dome over there!” Hicky cried out in excitement. “See how the arches and those tall, grand pillars hold up the huge roof with its sleek glass…

Poetry

By: Stephen Joffe ASK ME ANYTHING before it was intractable how swiftly did it move, & move me? i cage the sparrow softly in my hand – to what god rise the prayers of prey when their stomach swells with…

Poetry

By: Jim Bates Hungry woodpeckerTap-taping around the treePrelude to a meal. Frosty morning dawnChipmunk burrows under leavesWarmth fleetingly felt. Geese flying honkingSwallows amass on taut wiresSense of change coming. Hot September dayDry grass crinkling underfootThirtsy squirrel pants.

Fiction

By: Priya Anand The invite read – “Come visit my Bommai Golu on 3rd September between 530 and 730 pm”. It was created on CANVA and featured a picture of Vishnu reclining on the coils of a serpent, with Lakshmi…