Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Fiction

By: Mehreen Ahmed Late afternoon drizzles blighted the lights. Layered clouds, hung over in translucent folds. Dusky shadows fell upon a gully’s end. Next to this, a cinnamon farm lay stretched to the horizon. Tia Magnolia stood on this farm,…

Poetry

By: Kevin O’Keeffe Streetlamp I’ve long admired him, This steely Atlas, Denying the dark its nightly ambition. He is like a footman, stiff With some serious duty. Trusted, and attentive. Are we so different, he and I? He eyes the…

Poetry

By : Amirah Al Wassif   they said your voice shouldn’t be heardwe need a woman without soundthen I asked my godo lord, do I count?and he answered me in shortraise your voice and shoutthey said we need a perfect…

Global Politics

By Gaither Stewart Get out your atlas. You will likely need it when you read farther here about the intriguing but little known story in a lesser known part of Alpine Europe: Italy’s northern territory of Alto Adige, better known…

Poetry

By: Steven Jakobi for Wally A bright blue morning, clean and fresh after the rain. An ordinary day of ordinary lives and ordinary tasks. Except that you left us today. A Wednesday in August. Like any other Wednesday during your…

Poetry

By: Steven Jakobi Deep snow stills the woods, ice sparkles in the morning sun, but the longer days are brighter and the wind is a bit kinder. The February sky is filled with the nasal chords of geese, the sonorous…

Poetry

By: Pawel Markiewicz The Angels are flying in pairs through dreamy eternity the legendary fairies dreaming overnight the dwarfish primal world with a dreamed imagination the Leprechauns on the open sea Dream gull escapes with high tide Apollo’s wings in…

Poetry

By: Peter Magliocco black caviar with leftovers trudge into the nightfall of hungry consciousness & taste fallen fruit left rotting from a long-ago banquet. your daughter is nearly eleven, her bare feet pad softly across the mausoleum floor where leftovers…

Poetry

By: Aila Doyle Ignore the sound and fury. Read my lines. A desire to have a life, one combined. A sophic man, seeing into my soul. A woman afraid of losing control. Foolish girl, frightened and pulling away. Grasping to…

Poetry

By: Pawel Markiewicz I Moment (1998) The moment flies like wind. It always ends. You can only remember it in thoughts, dreams and tears. The moment does not die, but it stays in its heart. In the bird and in…