Literary Yard

Search for meaning

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Story: There’s Someone for Everyone

By: Steve Slavin 1 Helene knew for sure that there was not someone for everyone. She could even prove it. Helene does not remember much about her parents. An automobile accident left her orphaned when she was just four year old….

Poem: El Chapo’s revenge

At West Wing desk, Reince Priebus takes a collect call and summons President Trump to answer. By: Chuck Orloski “It’s Joaquin,” said El Chapo. “Remember me?” (an untypical pensive silent delay) “Oh, you mean the guy who played Johnny Cash in…

Poem: Where I Fit

By: Allison Grayhurst In the hourglass I see a cloud that greys the city. I see people at their art shows, theatre shows and antique shops blowing on their blankets in hopes of holding off winter, in hopes of never looking…

Poem: Field

By: Allison Grayhurst It doesn’t matter what field you run on, or who has your shoes. All that matters is that you keep moving over the hardly visited terrain where garden snakes and mosquitoes thrive. None of them will kill you,…

Poem: Missing Them

By: Kimberly Potter Kendrick 83 degrees, sunny Beloved spot Golden rays shine Beaming upon bronzed skin Pool enticing Gnawing in her stomach Ambiguous uneasiness Disconcerted Distinct days No laughter No smiles No traditions Sparkling lights fill the space Emptiness permeates…

Poem: The Yellow Robot Messiah

By: Chuck Orloski Activate him by flip-of-a-switch, and so many packages move from conveyor to pallet… and shrink wrapped! Born in Shenzhen Silicon Valley, he is ageless, never slothful, he’s come to save mankind from its unproductive sins. He requires no…

Poem: Thursday, June 2, 1988

By: Robert S. King Tonight I’ve come to watch my mother die or someone they say is her, who matches no photograph now, who gropes like a child for her mother’s arms, for the mercy of a God who, like a…

Poem: Coming of the Age of Man

By: Robert S. King In his worn-thin army fatigues, Daddy is drunk on moonshine. He’s lost many jobs but never a battle. His eyes aim their barrels at me. A tattoo on his right arm says The baby is dead. Mama…

Poem: The Flashbacks of Lightning

By: Robert S. King The beard who sucks his thumb moves every day to a different cardboard foxhole, never sleeps in the Shelter, that orphanage for grown-ups. The few who’ve known him long say his younger mouth was always open, a…

Bio: Shailendra Chauhan, A poet

By: Chandramauli Chandrakant, NIT Warangal AP Shailendra Chauhan was born and brought up in Uttar Pradesh/ Madhya Pradesh. His father was a primary school teacher in Vidisha. shailendra completed his education from Vidisha. He did Bachelor of Engineering in Electrical branch…