Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Essay

By: Josh Adair As soon as she told me I had the job, I couldn’t stop hearing Shirley Bassey and dreaming of De Beers commercials. I felt certain selling jewelry would expose me to a distinctive, sophisticated clientele, sure to…

Poetry

By Chandra Shekhar Dubey There lived an old, lanky monkIn the city of WuhanHe had a staff and a piped gourd pitcher               Hanging down his hump.Once a man called Cring Pring            Walked down his esoteric denGreeting majestically he sat by…

Fiction

By Bill Wilkinson It had been a few days since my neighbor last messaged me to get stuff for him when the disturbance happened over at his place. A noise startled me awake. It was 2:22 in the morning according…

Poetry

By Cauvery Chauhan Breathing The vehicles walking,The clouds moving,The birds have disappeared. The red, yellow, white, and purple hueIs baking the dusk. The wind blowing,The victory preaching,The vision has become clear. The music, screams, and chatteringIs welcoming the glorious end…

Poetry

By: Dagen Kipling Moments of Choice Grey clouds summersault across the skywhite lines of whipped creamcrisscrossed alongthe backdrop of metallic paint blueelectric cobalt appliedto the side ofa 97 mustang the car you let me driveprom night the one that I…

Poetry

By: Holly Day Dying on a Monday I feel her growing quieter beneath the pressure of my handsflops and flutters like a butterfly drenched in oil, only a few moments moreand there will be no more cheerleader left to tell…

Fiction

By: Michal Reiben Anna climbs her dear friend, the Wellingtonia tree quickly and easily for she knows its every branch; it’s a giant of a tree, an evergreen with down swept branches, a rough, noduled bark, dense foliage, and little…

Poetry

By: Nyse Vicente I hadn’t seen it thenEric DelaviereThe glinting eye, Phoebus light hanging upon the curve of your cheek, or the soft smile, lifted eyes, brows rose as we played in the forestChild’s gameWhen our parents called out to…

Poetry

By: John Tustin THE CROW Some people have the bluebird in their heart,Some have the raven.Some the gentle sparrow,Some the brutal hawk.There is the crow in my heartAnd he eats my humanityAnd replaces it with sorrowIn the anonymous dark.  ###…

Poetry

By: Katrenia Busch The Image In the midst of the nightDeep within darkness foundLost to vision or sightWhere my soul was once bound Searching through confinementSearching without restSearching that was constantSearching that was obsessed In the midst of a visionThat…