Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Poetry

Poem: Edee

By: Robert A. Davies She blessed us when we came a lady in her 80s bent over, face wrinkled a voice sweet and thin. We had come for strawberries. She directed us to the farthest field. Again she blessed us….

Poem: I Hear the Music

By: Neil Creighton When these limbs were strong, when ears were young and clear, when each day was unblinkingly bright, much grand music I could not hear. Now they hear a vast symphony from stars traversing the night, and these declining…

Poem: the demise

By: Kimberly Potter Kendrick this is the beginning this is the end the blueprint initiates the transition why am i here no purpose do i serve void of contentment restless from the urge the answer has been apparent distinct for…

Poem: The Walls

By: Kimberly Potter Kendrick she shuddered upon entering the room it was just like any other room not memorable at all not the color of the walls if there were pictures or knick-knacks what the furniture looked like which pieces…

Poem: For Pythia

By: Satish Verma In suddenness, I will write a poem for you. You had stopped at the outset, like a black moon opening up perfervidly. Remote from the oneness of life, a flame leapt up to ignite the process of…

Poem: The Walls

By: Satish Verma Something to leave for you. Don’t pull the other end of the string. Dedicated to the invincible, I raise a toast for a theorist, for not calling me back. Shall I move away from the road overflowing with…

Poem: Untitled

By: Satish Verma The triangle― right-angled. Pythagorean I would never find the center. An absence gnaws at me. Standing in dark I start a talkathon with walls. Strically, I reverse the numbers. Fires start. I am still reading the page,…

Poem: My City

By: Sandeep Kumar Mishra My city has dazzling appearance Its days are sweating labours The nights are stiffly precarious Malls, palaces, shops, skyscrapers All things are but only a granite museum People came from unknown places Growing day by day like…

Poem: This Bud’s For You

By: Catherine McGuire Inside the Green Cross boutique, white walls, clean lines of an optometrist’s glass and steel you can’t afford us counters; soft, sleek lamps spotlight glass cylinders, discrete labels: Headband, Girl Scout Cookies, Blueberry Haze. Young budistas cheerfully advise….