Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Month: October 2019

Another window story

By: Kusum Choppra Oftentimes waking up is accompanied by a sickening realisation: That some sleep time was devoted to a new painless suicide method. This morning the window net went up to peer down, checking for a clear fall down…

The Last Written Poem

By: Mark Ivan L. Sarin It’s midnight, still thinking about you, Can’t sleep, our memories killing me piece by piece, The continous shading of blue breaks my peace, Nothing to say, nothing to complain, A profane but humane, Slightly plain…

Melody and Brown Eyes

By: Stephanie Kezia F. Henson I wrote to a song and it’s all about you. It’s all about those brown eyes. Those brown eyes that made me fell in love. Eyes that made my world filled with colors. But those…

Three Jobs Should be Enough

By: Joel E. Turner Three jobs should be enough, I mean none of them is what you’d really call a job, not like when I was clocking in at the refractory plant, lifting heavy shit to make bricks, running a…

That Day I Kept My Silence

By: Erica Radam Walking by the sunset, hand in hand with A stranger’s calloused palms My chest is thumping Then erupted from his proprietorial behavior. I was procured by his eyes, Held captive by his venereal intentions Yet, I did…

Tree Dances

By: Maxine Flasher-Duzgune It was fall in Tompkins, the leaves of the Sweetgum and Gingko unveiling a 9 o’clock gold on their undersides. And my lens refocused on the beautiful dancers in the trees. What makes the wind blow down…