Literary Yard

Search for meaning

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Winter rain in my muse-like homeland

By: Paweł Markiewicz Poland the eyesome fay at the crack of dawn in winteris weepingthe winter rain in the form of magnificent teardrops is dropping downit is to be mesmerized in glaciated dreams of musesthe shepherd boy hears the falling…

Suicide Bluff

By: Thomas Fitzgerald McCarthy A heavy fog cloaked most of Verdando Mountain in the winter. From a distance, it was thick and glassy, and the few houses in the valley below looked like little more than particles of residue trapped…

Freddie

By: Jim Bates Early in June that summer I took two weeks off work and my friend Bobby and I hitched-hiked to Denver to a concert at Mile High Stadium. We saw Jimi Hendrix and had an unforgettable time. It…

The Dance

By: Benjamin Ashton An aroma of brown sugar and ground beef lingered in the kitchen as it had every Meat Loaf Monday in recent memory. Jill, slightly up on her toes, was rinsing dishes to be placed in the dishwasher….

Bluebird

By: Mitchel Montagna O’Casey had Buffalo Springfield’s Retrospective on eight-track. The song “Bluebird” ran for fourteen and a half minutes, long enough so that it skipped from track to track. In the middle of an extensive guitar jam, the music…

Discovery

By: Steve Carr See the boy sitting in the pew across the aisle? He’s no older than six. Being dressed in a black suit that is two sizes too large for his small frame does nothing to quell his energy….

To the far land

By: Andrea Myinga We do an epic march to the far land, that’s us in me.Singing songs of warriors towards the unknown enemyThe pitch is high enough to reach the next generationAnd danced to by the dead, who lie down…

Poem: A temple in the clouds

By: Onkar Sharma Ever seen or imagined a temple in the clouds? Ever seen a shrine sans the unholy crowds? It was white as snow It was majestic as doe Its slender marble dome stood tall and went very high…

Awakening in Unraveling

By: Natasha Navarra Days forced to be forgotten flood back from the crevasse of my brain, peeking through like burning sunlight through the half-open shades of the window of memory. Some of the recollections of the past are merely silent…