Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Poetry

Poem: The Puzzle

By: Bejoy Balagopal In the rapidly vanishing sands of time, Where is it that I draw my line? Once the waves wash their sins on shore, How would I know which half is mine? In the lonely expanse of the blue,…

Poem: The lost drop

By: Debleena Majumdar She peeped from the Leaking tap, dazzled By the tapestry life spun. Seeking her life under the Sun. She dripped. One lost drop. Jostling with the million Other drops in the tanker, She heard with dread, The…

Poem: Woe-man

By: Basit Olatunji (For ill-fated husbands) could this be a woman or a monstrous monster? think she’s a woe-man worse than a human before her husband came to relieve her parents of their desperate daughter it’s a pity, he never knew…

Poem: Desert Flower

By: Raymond Greiner The desert appears lifeless, void of color. No cathedrals, only isolation, heat and blinding sun. One must hike the desert’s long trail to understand it. Hunker down on a cold desert night as scorpions may sleep in…

Poem: Golden Chapati

By: Ranjeet Singh While walking through a faceless crowd Looking at the golden temple And its golden reflections in the water, Measuring its pride in one quick glimpse The poor child, Adding curiosity to his hunger, Asked his mother Do…

Poem: Words

By: Neelam Singh Vows vows and vows Torturous words to my ears now I do , I do , I do Do we really mean I do? Two words- I do The world kept looking through Innocent words- I do…

Poem: Walk away

By: Neelam Singh Laughter stings my soul Hope shrunk If someone could eavesdrop my heart Bitter sweet memories remain Lost in the wilderness Where the wild thing are I often wonder What is this thing called life Darkness, blood and pain…

Poem: Past the Olive Trees in Aokigahara

By: Kate O’Neil I’m ready; hit me with that dark water; Soft peach-skin buttresses my shoes; my palanquin lies uncreased. In the muggy distance I can almost make you out, slumping closer a staring, windlestraw horror. Approach then. I’ll throw…

Poem: Support

By: Kate O’Neil The blue sky melts off into the short grasses, rustling green with the wind; that ocelot steps past quietly. The trees almost smell like cordite. I woke up in a tree. I threw this postcard down to a…