Literary Yard

Search for meaning

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Prose Poem

By: Maria Schiza Orange peels on the heater, their smell spilled into the room. The sofas worn in. Photographs on the walls, proud, taking up space. Photographs on the shelves, in front of books or tugged in between pages, sentimental…

Babe Without You Life Is So Blue

By: H.L. Dowless Tears are rolling down my face,I simply don’t know what to do,My mind grasps not time nor space,Since I have no choice but to live without you. I well remember our walks through the park,I savor our…

King Of Cat

By: H.L. Dowless In the month of April, when the leaves begin to spring from their wooden sepulchers, and the rains fall from the loft of high heaven above, so geared the mighty warrior, Sebastian Oswald for mortal combat. It…

Too Many Masks

By James Bates Bam! Bam!! Bam!!! “Open up, it’s the police.”             Oh, shit, thought, Bryan, what have I done now? He got out of bed, stumbled over a shoe and fell to the floor. Shit. He got up cursing…

Alia

By: Aruna Subramanian “Wake up Sweety! You don’t want to be late for school, do you?” her mother called out from downstairs. Alia was awake but didn’t get up from the bed. She was looking at the ceiling and wondering…

I Love You

By: Malik Nasla “You were in a crash. Can you tell me your name?” “What’s happening? Who are you?” “Calm down you are fine I just need to know your name” “Emma” “You were riding your bike and lost control…

Claudia, Berlin

By Harrison Abbott Ron still thinks about her often in dreams. If indeed thought can be pure within the magical arena of dreamland. It is only when asleep then that a full grief for her can be felt. She plagues…

‘Ilkley Crags’ and other poems by Stephen Kingsnorth

By: Stephen Kingsnorth  Ilkley Crags Far from south western sibling torsthese stubby crags emerge from peat,amongst scrag season’s heather, gorse;but mother loved these Yorkshire moorsso different from her Exmoor stags.Yarn Dunster lass, strode tussocks, tufts,the billowed gale, church choir let…

When the Hurly-Burly’s Done: a prose poetry series

By: Cynthia Pitman “When shall we three meet again?  In thunder, lightning, or in rain?”“When the hurly-burly’s done,When the battle’s lost and won.”                                                                        – Witches, Macbeth, by William Shakespeare i. Conflict             “Conflict: Two forces working against one another.” But that’s…