Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Year: 2022

Poetry shots on the war in Ukraine

By: Anna Cates *Odesan outskirtsfalling on disturbed soildry locust leaf*cold Aprilheavy on his shoulderair bomb*partisans fordthe swollen river—songbirds*red horizongiving sway to bluenight’s swathing peace*war orphanswhat their eyes absorbeach snowflake*the forest’s depththose who know the waygrow only more lost*one comrade winksanother…

‘The Kite’ and other poems

By: Michael C. Seeger  The Kite I carry you running across a field of grass nestledon a spectacular Sierra Nevada Mountain ridgeline in August below Heavenly ski resort high abovethe vast and noble hue of Lake Tahoe’s blueness, you are…

The Insurance Overheated

By: Todd Mercer Either nobody had information on what caused the restaurant blaze, or they’re all in on it. Each local station put out footage of smoldering char-wood that was previously the thriving Maguire’s Surf-n-Turf. Now it’s an issue of…

‘Sand Deep Sans Loss’ and other poems

By: Amrita Valan Sand Deep Sans Loss She pullsA stoical faceUpper lip pursedLower lip curled.Her grace is wooden. Hair bondingMedusa moments.Coffee cup PausesRelaxed reveries. The morning beachesshored up…Wet sand excessesCastle building halted. Sun lit waves recedeInto eavesCornices cobwebbedCreepy eerie crevices….

‘Virtual Weather’ and other poems

By: Thomas O’Connell Virtual Weather All my dataHas been storedIn a thunder cloudSomeday soon, it will start to rain As a downpourReleasingLapsed friend suggestionsRecently deleted emails All my bygonePhotographsEventuallyGathering in curbside puddlesSplashed onto the shoes of someone waiting for a…

The Little Things

By: Alan Berger You don’t have to look upI have the proofIt may be a thought, a bit too abruptBut we all are sleeping under the same roof And yet I am getting so used to making the same mistakesI…

Apple Cider Vinegar

By: Anna Louise Steig The overhead fan is buzzing like a mindless insect, and I am waiting for my boyfriend to twist on the water before I let my piss spray into the toilet bowl, hoping he won’t hear the…

‘Shell Collecting’ and other poems

By: John Grey SHELL COLLECTING Shells roll out of the ocean,former homes, having parted ways with their dead,tumble a little, then dig in as the wave recedes, for even the inanimate have instinctswhen there are strollers about, beachcombersready to stoop…