Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Poetry

By: Shawn Berman OUR FAVORITE HALLOWEEN MOVIE IS THE ONE WHERE CASPER AND WENDY BECOME BEST FRIENDS BECAUSE NOBODY DIES AND THEY ALL LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER sitting in our underwear carving pumpkins on the floor you turn the volume…

Poetry

By: Alan Berger Once in a world of sorrowThrice in a world of painWhere memories I never hadWhere all laid to blameAt the age I am right nowReady for the gateI still don’t know how or whyI received a smile…

Poetry

By: Shannen Zitz KINTSUGI i have mended hundreds ofbroken things.i never questioned the necessity of it,just knew, this is probably howit would always be.never knew where the crackswere coming from,only that they were there. and i filled them.with whatever i…

Fiction

By: Paweł Markiewicz I am standing before a cute mirror, therethrough looking, and I see there Prometheus, his torches with fires, a weird-like ash, a poetical comet as well as the words >youthhood of studies< in a golden frame. I…

Fiction

By W. K. Rathburg Command, this is Palma Fesco. Of Search and Rescue? The same. I find myself in a pickle. I need help. What do you mean? I’m stuck under a ventilation shaft. What? It collapsed. In the Veldor Sector. …

Poetry

By: Aanika Eragam I didn’t notice she was missing till the world began withering,weeping willows sweeping banyan seeds down rabbit holes,coyotes howling for mercy as dandelion feathers chokedtheir newborns’ throats. I sat on a swing in an empty playgroundlistening for…

Fiction

By: Zach Murphy There it was. It was that faint tune. The tune of a song playing on a jukebox from the back room in a dingy bar within the ghost town of a dream. The mysterious sound meandered through…

Poetry

By: Rehanul Hoque A Piece of Wonder If men were to be compared with an ass and vice versa,Without much speculation on the respective role of eachanyone could assert ass is the best ass, man is perfect manand to acknowledge…

Poetry

By: Christiane Demack Butterfly!You came back!All my lifeI’d felt your bright blue wingsBeating against the inside ofMy rib cage, fanning the fire,Inside;Gifting me visions of flowers and honey,Dreaming mimosas and hyacinths,Into existence; lingering by fountainsOf joy in the silver light…

Fiction

By Ted R. Larsen He walks into the room, all white walls and cotton sheets, monitors and tubes. His friend is sleeping – at least he hopes that’s true. Ah. The chest moves up and down lightly. Sleeping it is….