Literary Yard

Search for meaning

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Poem: menopause

By: Sajan George suicide is not cowardice but a rare blinding act of pure will by a fearless mind insane though in its own lone ways it requires the agility alertness of a hunter the unwavering focus typical of those losing…

A Book for the Century Past

By: Tom Sheehan In time much of what we know fades away, moves away, continually moves around us, blinking and scattering, but with a breath of air touches back. It’s a face, a name, a childhood haunt in momentary dispose,…

Story: The Long Walk Home

By: JP Miller The day after I arrived in the Nam, I was immediately choppered out to Camp Radcliffe in An Khe where we were tasked to run operations in the central highlands as support for infantry units. I was…

Poem: Catharsis

By: Paulo Lorenzo L. Garcia Silence Falls from your lips In little quantities Dripped with a distant hum Of disconcordant whispers The staccato of your voice Winds around my neck Stifling me From my desire for rhythm The words have…

Poem: Wanderlust

By: Paulo Lorenzo L. Garcia By the cliff overlooking the sea Where the waters lick the sand My shadow is cast Stretching out its invisible hand The weather is fair But my fickle friends are leaving Coaxed by wanton winds, ever…

Poem: Ode To The Midnight Meanderer

By: Paulo Lorenzo L. Garcia Her mind meanders Through fair and starless clime And may no other thought keep hither Than the taste of love sublime This moment’s preoccupation A Feat no man’s control But to savor sorrow and passion At…

Poem: Maiden of the river

By: Linda M. Crate perhaps i am but a mad poet but they say crows lurk where faeries are and crows always follow me, i wonder how many faeries have watched my step or danced in my gradens; sometimes i…

Poem: Child of the dragons

By: Linda M. Crate i’ve seen the dragons they come out at night when everyone is sleeping drift through the clouds with their eyes large as the moon, and they watch me underneath an audience of stars but they never…

Story: The Absence

By: Adreyo Sen When she was five, she was a brave little boy, addicted to Gi Joe, who dreamt of earning his father’s gratitude by saving him from terrorists.  She was in love with her pretty English teacher.             When…

Poem: I invited her to hang out

By: Donald Buhl-Brown I invited her over tonight, to hang out I said. The trash is overflowing in my bins, my clothes are littered across my floor. More dirty than clean, the same for the clothes on my body. I shouldn’t…