Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Year: 2021

The death of the rolling tide

By: Karoline Wimmer A rolling tidecannot hide,in the worst of dreams,it lights the matchthat sets the fireto the darkest of desires. If seas had been sweeterthan the fairest of all ladies,they would have metwith great contemptthe most hunch-backed of all…

‘Awakening of Diversity’ and other poems

By: Amb. Maid Corbic AWAKENING OF DIVERSITY It’s spring; inanimate nature is suddenly astonishedTo his character who brings fresh air from a distanceWaking my eyes squinting from winter hibernationIn the stage of madness; I walk across my roomTo see the…

Bottling it

By: Anthony Ward             It was not a sun day like its namesake. Instead the sky was overburdened with cloud. The rain that was forthcoming remained so. Though today that suited Dan down to the ground. He had hoped for…

Nobody

By: Alan Berger Nobody is listeningSave your breathYou will only find out whyAfter your deathThink I’m kidding?Here comes the rest This is the hookAnd here is the stingNobody is listening But then again, it’s sure fun to trySing your private…

Oxygen

By: James Bates The summer when I was eight years old a new highway began being built about a mile from our farm. My older brother Lewis and I were fascinated by the huge, noisy machines: road graders, dump trucks…

‘Perhaps another queen’ and other poems

By: Linda M. Crate perhaps another queen you’re barking up the wrong treeif you only want a night of bliss looking for a lovedeeper than the roots of the oldesttree, and i’ve been told to bemore realisticbut miracles happen every…

Let’s, o dear!

By: Mayesha Islam Abanti Let’s, o dear!To heal, as a matter of fact ;To indulge in a mystical sphere of tranquil.To love, with the heft of savouring allure.To escape, like the valourity of a bird looming around with incessant flee.To…

Mustard Coloured Magazines

By: Harrison Linklater Abbott I was in the library at high school and was hovering over the aisles. I wasn’t much interested in novels. But when I got to the magazine section I came across these mustard coloured mags which…

‘Lost Sagacity’ and other poems

By: KJ Hannah Greenberg Lost Sagacity By sounding smooth or inviting, sagacity often vanishesAmong words, turns of phrase, weird little expressions. Consider; a surfeit of depression, weight gain, glandularTrouble, fatigue can be sourced to rhetorical brouhaha. When fighting “monsters,” one’s…

My Dad is a Doctor

By: Praniti Gulyani There’s a lot that goes into your dad being a doctor. When your dad is a doctor, you get to step into a white coat that almost blankets you; covering you from head to toe. You get…