Literary Yard

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Fiction

By: Ruth Z. Deming  more perfect day cannot be imagined for when the former President retired to Mar-a-Lago on the Palm Beach barrier island with the Atlantic Ocean to the east and Florida’s Intracoastal Waterway to the west. The sea was calm, shimmering as…

Books ReviewsPoetry

By: Josh Brown ‘Coconut’ is a term used to denigrate someone as brown on the outside and white on the inside. “The Cocont Girl” is the second collection of poems from British born Punjabi poet Sunita Thind.  BAME people born…

Poetry

By: Chris Durand Night  Sinking into now, Worries fall away, Soon to rest my head At the end of day.  Moments of release Ebb away in peace. My heart softly beats. Consciousness retreats.  Covers to my chin, Sleep is almost in. The world slips out of sight, Enveloped by…

Poetry

By: Joan E. Cashin Love on the Road, or What I Did Not Want to Overhear  A marriage proposal at the Hilton Hotelas I ate a salad at the next table in the restaurant: she said no.A screaming match at…

Poetry

By: Matthew Borczon My anger  Is for you not the horse you rode in on it’s for the lightning not the tree it dropped across the road and it’s not for the soldiers  who killed and died in the war who still kill and die in my dreams no my anger is for the men who start wars in the first place and at me for believing that any good would come from it it’s for the kid I was who enlisted without a clue about the man the war would make out  of me  ### Graveyard shift  Another sleepless night and I am on the internet looking at pictures of whales who appear to sleep standing up near the surface so they can get air they sleep only an hour or two a night as long as a ship doesn’t hit them and I wonder what their dreams are  about as I remember that the origin of the term graveyard shift is from the times when the dead would sometimes wake back up inside the coffin so they would tie a string from their wrist to a bell and if it rang the worker on the graveyard shift would have to dig them back up from the ground and I never wonder about his dreams because I have spent ten years on the graveyard shift shovel in hand digging soldiers and Marines women and children out of the ground as Afghanistan rang in my ears.  ### I was thinking this morning for Dana  About the bones of the sun and the blank stare of our kitchen clock I am listening to Bob Dylan wondering if you can ever really truly be one too many mornings and a thousand miles behind as I am wishing I could swim across the surface of your coffee cup into the light in your eyes as I reach for your hand across the table it’s weight is heavy with everything you bring to our…

Poetry

By: Mary Bone The Tangled Web The tangled web was woven with care,intricate secrets were stored inside.The spider knew how to entice wary visitorsinside for a cup of tea.His house was so cozy within.Entertainment was the key,For the likes of…

Poetry

By: Ute Carson My wife and I occupied this house for 55 years.My parents restored it following the Great Depression.We have shared the cooking, the cleaning,kept the yard trimmed and the roses flourishing.When the sun streams through our tall bay…

Fiction

By: Macy de Champlain We aren’t supposed to be here.   We walk into the darkness, leaving the last remnants of light behind us. My Michael strips down, everything but the socks and shoes. I do too, because I do whatever my Michael…

Poetry

By: Jordan Zuniga  The mustering of the forces, the gathering of strength,The call to arms upon the realm of France, increase the territories length!The kneeling for the honor, the placing of the crown,The swiping of the treasure and the mocking…

Fiction

By: Nina Adel At the end of the long stretch of dollar stores, blocks of restaurants offering licuados and tortas de asada and pan dulce, there is an inland sea. A half-neighborhood before this great quantity of open water, Belvidere…