Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Year: 2022

I Am in a Poetry Slump

By: Cailey Tarriane which means my words can’t come off odd because I can’t right thewrong with a blank sheet of paper,my mind is in the dark for the first time in a galaxy’s orbit-see, that pun is incorrect-every idea…

The Old Bard’s Tale

By: Henry Felerski Years ago, at this time of day he would have been found carousing, chasing women, or loudly playing music for all to hear. But now, the bard’s dark hair had faded to white and his pristine skin…

Everything Lasts Forever

By: Alan Berger Everything lasts foreverNothing goes awayPain and pleasureAre permanent residentsIn your movementsAnd your stay I tried a courseIn memory lossFor the mud in me to tossIt said get use to meThe only thing to decideIs who will be…

Peace

By: James Aitchison Evil is inevitable.So is goodness.I know the course ofCivilizations.The wheel spins,Guiding your pure inner selfTo peace.I speak of inner safety,Release from mental torment.All men have been assignedTheir series of lives.The wheel spins their destinies,And they do not…

‘A matter of priorities’ and other poems

By: George Freek A MATTER OF PRIORITIES (After Mei Yao Chen) Things that once matteredNow matter to meless than a bowl of rice.Stars like insectsspin across the sky,but do they even exist?Sparrows hop from branchto branch with a purpose.They don’t…

Coffee, Please, in a Lovely Cup

By: Ruth Deming After my final sip of awful generic coffee, I donned my cowboy hat with latch at bottom so it wouldn’t topple off, and set out to walk the hilly block. Assiduously I avoided Bob, “the quiet man,”…

Pond Food

By: Raymond Greiner Walking the aisles of the local farm and feed store I read the various labels on the multiple feed bags; sweet stuff for horses, scratch grain for chickens, meat bird, layer crumbles, chick starter and at the…

Myrna’s Story

By: Raymond Greiner Myrna Davis was born in 1950 into a middle class family and raised in a mid-sized, mid-western town.  Myrna was an exceptionally beautiful child a direct genetic influence of her mother, who was stunningly beautiful.  Myrna’s beauty…

‘This Fall’ and other poems

By: J.K. Durick This Fall After reaching its peak the trees unleaf, filllawns and baskets, whole afternoons givenover to clean up. The boys next door makepiles, stacked just right for jumping, the joyof loud voices greets this world of wanwoodleafmeal…