Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Poetry

By: Debasis Tripathy Woven together in thread of life we are, Our nest built in a village of dreams afar. Familiar with each other before birth, We fly along, our feet unoften on Earth, Together we sail, along an undivided…

Poetry

By: Milt Montague harken to this tale of a friend of a friend……. home from the terror of the war scarred from many wounds almost whole again facing life alone disgusted with civilization it’s wars and politics posturing and outright…

Books ReviewsFiction

By: Adam Kluger It was a snowy Saturday and I was headed to King Carol Record store on the Upper East Side to check out what new albums were in. Zig-Zag Records was nearby so I could swing by there as…

Poetry

By: Mendes Biondo I dreamed of us and we were two and we were many we called each other with the name of a people I dreamed of our steps the sand in the eyes the drinking finished into water bottles…

Poetry

By: Balu George If you look at social network profiles, People are happy and upbeat one day, Sad and downcast the next day. I guess that is how life is. Joy arises, grows and dies, To be replaced by sadness,…

Poetry

By: April Mae M. Berza There is a love for the mother of metaphors but is there a metaphor for a mother’s love? Kian’s mom is an OFW who cried all day and mourned all night when the premature news about…

Poetry

By: Ryan Quinn Flanagan juke into the end zone juke the music out of boxes I find it hard to believe the government toppled over without a little help, usually from other governments, your frenemies are most helpful that way (I…

Poetry

By: Ryan Quinn Flanagan Your eyes are cove familiar binoculars of a particular leering dilated sentiments from broken mason jars the centuries between us a simple jump rope nobody can seem to master and you are not dead because my mind…

Books ReviewsFiction

By: Nick Gallup Nigger Lover. I hated the words, and so did Constance, but she dismissed the hate mail that called her that and ignored the accompanying threats. “My God, Ford, I’ve been getting those letters for years. If they…

Poetry

By: Andrew Openshaw We’re in a decadent spiral He claims. How dare you threaten all we’ve made With your lousy, languishing, Liberal ways. Look around you man, There’s no experience here. Granted there is a lot of Fear But entertainment…