Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Poetry

By: Kristy Fusich The strangest lips always taste the sweetest Those ones that let words whisper without care Those ones that look like ripe and sweet berries Those ones that bring chills with a smile Those ones that you didn’t see…

Poetry

By: Kristy Fusich Smells Like Teen Spirit was a terrible song about deodorant, but we listened to it anyway and rocked out in our dirty flannels with the cigarette burn holes in them. You got high on meth in my bathroom…

Poetry

By: Kristy Fusich You never screamed no, but it’s what you were saying. This isn’t right. This doesn’t feel right. You go limp and play dead. When the scorpion stings its venom leaves you numb. Its tail is quick as a…

EssayGlobal Politics

By Gaither Stewart Bertold Brecht put into everyday practice Marxist collectivism and dialectical materialism in his art as few other Western writers have ever achieved. Despite accusations of avidness for money, the German poet and playwright belied any doubts about…

Poetry

By: Pijush Kanti Deb Five fingers- the fingering of inequality, consequently the clash is inevetable between sustainable happiness for a few and non-washable sorrow for others. Five fingers- the seed of argument and counter -argument, the cause timultaneous festival in…

Poetry

By: Zunayet Ahammed Happiness lost Melancholy approaches Lights fade Flowers far away Stopped have the songs of the birds Rivers not flowing Greenness of the green pummels me like a hawk Beauty of the dancers doesn’t mesmerise me Inner music…

Poetry

By: Jake Cosmos Aller The falling rain Of late October Fills me with essential dread As I rush about And end up here Wherever here is The rain outside Seems like the tears of god As I sit Crying over my…

Poetry

By: Jake Cosmos Aller January January arrives cold as death warmed over As I make my annual list of resolutions Of the great things I would do The lies I tell myself to keep me going While recovering from the hangover…

Fiction

By: Brian Burmeister “What am I looking at?” Cynthia asks. “Who is this? I’m confused.” A moment earlier, Tonya slid her phone in front of her friend, saying only, “I’ve got something to show you.” The two women sit in the…

Poetry

By: Alan Britt I hold a gecko, mottled tangerine, fat tail, black eyes glistening like papaya seeds as if to guess my next move. Wise gecko. Gary the gecko— ultra-sensitive tail supports 32% of his preserves as carry-on. Gary the gecko…