By: J.K. Durick Desert I’ve never been on a desert, you know the kind,But I can picture me out in it. The sand as far asAs I can see, the intense sun, […]
‘Desert’ and other poems
Author
Author is an umbrella name given to the contributors of the Literary Yard
Ted Bundy, Serial Killer, in my Class
By Russell Eisenman, Ph.D. Ted Bundy, the famous serial killer, was once in an abnormal psychology class that I taught, years ago at Temple University. I did not know it was him […]
Mr. Macaroon
By: Jim Bates “Sorry to have to tell you this,” Doctor Jensen said, not looking all that sorry, “but you’ve got celiac sprue.” Celiac what? It sounded serious. “Am I going to […]
Rosary & Rites
By: Sterling Warner I: First Dysfunctional Confession “Bless me Father for I have sinned; this is my first confession,” I began, knowing I’d correctly uttered my lines. During the past few days, […]
And the Bird Sang Again
By Hayden Sidun For the seventh time that day, the wooden cuckoo bird came out of its birdhouse and sang its typical song. Terrence often thought about what an appropriate title would […]
Rain
By: Chandra Shekhar Dubey Rain, rain bringcoolness of your showersto scorched plantssilent and sultry.Rain, rain bringyour torrents to earthparched and thirstyin restless summerto sprout the grass,ferns and dry leaves.Rain, rain bringrelief to […]
Visions of Love
By: Bill Kamen Killin’ time, sippin’ a beerAt a boardwalk bar by the seaThe jukebox playin’ visions of loveMy mind drifts away to a girl on the beachSwayin’ to the sound of […]
‘At Least the Dead Don’t Need To be Shushed’ and other poems
By: Richard LeDue At Least the Dead Don’t Need To be Shushed My second job interview was easysince I had found a grantthat paid over half my wages,so I spent a summer […]
‘The Puppet Master’ and other poems
By: Blessy George THE PUPPET MASTER The puppet master held his fingers tightAnd I fight, a hopeless fightAgainst my dreams, against my burning desireFor freedom, I stayAlas! The way money can control […]
‘ What of Ravi, Sunil?’ and other poems
By: Stephen Kingsnorth What of Ravi, Sunil? Pencil moustache, bike perched as frame,common boyhood smiles about,and bright, bright eyes hiding nilsave haunting heads that never willmeet again as growing lads. Here, Ahallabad, […]
