Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Fiction

By: Alexander Kemp Disclaimer: This is mostly a true story, but not really, but this actually did happen, but not really, but yeah, its non-fiction, except all the parts that are fiction. New Year’s Eve (December 30, 2016) “Takes an…

Poetry

By: David If I was An inanimate object, I would be A single drop of water Falling from the sky Faster than the blink of an eye. “Bloop” landing amongst, Millions of other droplets No different than the others. No…

EssayTravel

By: Jim Alexander Dave and I stood dumbfounded when we gazed across the Tiber Valley at the ancient city of Civita. The abandoned medieval buildings that clustered atop steep cliff looked surreal and the distant plateau might have been an apparition….

Poetry

By: Chuck Orloski Hemophiliac Damascus, those eyes, those eyes, Rasputin’s eyes, like Russian S-300’s activated at abyss. Seducer, Gregory can’t get close to Czar Putin’s Alexandra, she doesn’t like beards & hooligans. Those eyes, scary eyes! What the hell is…

Poetry

By: Zunayet Ahammed I’ve seen you in silence Your presence, love and tenderness Quiver at my heart with splendid touch And I feel comfortable. I’ve seen you in the first rays of sunlight Beauty streaming from your clothes and hair…

Poetry

By: Zunayet Ahammed I beheld you here last evening In an autumn dress full of juice Like white clouds of the sky To chuckle at me quietly Like a girl of 17 who feels woozy Looking inside and outside Not…

Fiction

By: Ramprasath Maha alias Mahalakshmi was very determined to not entertain dowry in her marriage. “Maha, we may have to be flexible when good profiles approach us ma” her father Natarajan tried to convince her. “Dowry is a sin papa. This…

Poetry

By: Neeraja Mani (for Madhu who was killed for “a loaf of bread”) Muddy skin of yours said that you are untouchable. Tarry-Torn dress of yours showed that You are lunatic Sparse hairs showed you are no where to richness…

Poetry

By: Prathap Kamath Everyday my window opens into a little patch of paddy laid to waste. Some later owner had grown coconut trees there. All of them turned out to be barren with mournful, drooping, long, yellowish green leaves. They all…

Poetry

By: Prathap Kamath As the fourth one I always smelt victory, mouth watering standing close to the third, but never had it. The victory stand had room only for three. I lived in the middle land between the wanted and…