Literary Yard

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Poem: Something Did Happen

By: JD DeHart It could be guessed that two cars passed by, two persons, shade by shade, a wave Blue lights tell passersby that the passage was not so discrete, and the man carrying bags of broken auto indicates a smashing…

Poem: Top Right-Hand Drawer

By: JD DeHart All you need exists in the top right-hand drawer, including the bits of tape, the old pictures of yourself, the business card, a reminder about your ego, the birthday candle you told yourself you would keep, the folded…

Poem: Americans All, Under the Shell

By: Ruth Z. Deming We are all of one family here under the aluminum shell of this popular filler-up join If attacked we would cling together like wagon trains rolling across the virgin plains Bucky, the manager, would protect us, so…

Poem: A Short LIfe

By: Ruth Z. Deming I came out of the water one day and became a dragonfly. I didn’t know what to do. Under water they called me a nymph. Like the fish that surrounded me I flashed my gills and thought…

Poem: The Blue Glass

By: Ruth Z. Deming One morning I woke up with that feeling of “ugh”: I haven’t written a good poem in nearly a month. Only yesterday I called and invited myself over. Slipped on my black clogs and walked out the…

Poem: A Mother’s Tale by James Agee

By: Ruth Z. Deming This story was originally published in Harper’s Bazaar, 1952 “A Mother’s Tale” is open to interpretation by the critics and professors Let me fill you in. We’re talking cows here the slow comely soft-eyed darlings the English…

Story: To Have And To Hold

By: Phil Temples “Harry, we’ve been dating now for—what? Four months? I don’t mean to sound pushy, but don’t you think it’s time that we take it to the next level?” “Huh?” “You know, don’t you want a soul mate?…

Story: Cowboy Loves Lily Sue

By: Cathy S. Ulrich Cowboy’s got murder on his mind. It swims round in there like a little fish. He’s been like that since birth, says his momma. Born that way. Looked up at me with those mean little eyes, and…

Poem: Competition

By: Malcolm Carvalho  Yesterday, I picked up a stone, tore it into two, and gave you one half. You nurtured it, gave it wings, I taught mine to sing, somehow it also learnt to sting. Your stone sprouted a beak and…