Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Poetry

By: Alex Lobera He was never born, yet I held him in my hands. Too early to be dead, much too early to be alive. I can’t remember all his features yet they are etched by Life’s stern chisel in the…

Poetry

By: Tiffany Lee If a flower could feel, Then it would know only love. But the rose does not know the pain it gives to others, Its thorns wear the blood of others. With a touch of the rose, The whole…

EssayNon-Fiction

By: Raymond Greiner How is progress clearly gauged? Is progress a machine or device invented to create less physical or mental challenge to daily routines? When does comfort become a negative and hard work a positive? In reality both offer favorable…

Poetry

By: Cattail Jester there were more flowers here one time once upon a once upon she was a beauty queen before the pregnancy the shattered dreams the beating now it’s a burned up place where salt is sewn but I…

Poetry

By: Cattail Jester he’s a loud noise in the back pulling fur of winter over his back to keep warm she’s a quiet sound wandering in the middle of winter melting snow with her bare feet it’s that kind of thawing…

EssayNon-Fiction

By: Jolo Motus When Gerardo started sleeping under the stop sign in the corner of my neighborhood, everything changed. Two summers ago, Gerardo ended up in Academy Way, the street I lived in. He told me that he was normally from…

Poetry

By: Stacy Chi The world that you live in will never last Welcome to your mysterious life And say good-bye to the past You will be worried and scared Always holding the feeling of fear But don’t worry you will be…

EssayNon-FictionTravel

By: Lauren Waites I was 2,600 miles away from my friends, my pets, and my bed, and I wanted nothing more than tangible evidence that I existed in those moments in El Paso, Texas, or Albuquerque, New Mexico, or Fort Smith,…

EssayNon-Fiction

By: Abigail Dizon I was told that cardboard boxes are better than tents because they don’t trap heat. This is what Marlene, a homeless woman living on Skid Row, told us when my cousins and I gave her an extra box…

Poetry

By:  Brianna Katsuda He shoots the gun She is about to impress everyone The wind blows through her hair as she glides through the air She doesn’t hear the crowds cheering or her competition sneering She can only think: be…