Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Fiction

By: William T. Hathaway When my wife and I were first married, not so very long ago, we slept in a queen-sized bed. It was our cocoon from the world, where we snuggled and dreamed together. After a while she…

Fiction

By: Emon NC. It meandered diagonally across the surface of the glass, from the top right corner, to the left corner below. Neharika thought it was a stain, caused by the water leakage on the roof above. But a closer…

News

Nigerian telecommunications company, Etisalat (http://www.etisalat.com.ng) has announced the call for entries for the 2015 Etisalat Prize for Literature (http://prize.etisalat.com.ng) which is in its third year. The prize is the first ever Pan African prize celebrating debut African writers of published…

Fiction

By: Raja Jaiswal I paced upstairs, the exhausted strokes of legs desperate to throw me to the third floor, where I reside. I wiped down my forehead a stream of sweat, so tired, I was like wanting to throw away…

Fiction

By: Natalia Suri  In the Dausa haveli of Thakur Umaid Singh, that morning in June was chaotic. The servants ran through the long passages, carrying rice bags, milk cans and flower baskets. Some were busy decorating the main hall. They hung…

Poetry

By: JD DeHart There is a flaming sword, for sure, still guarding the door. I am sure the tree still exists inside, just beyond the gate, producing fruit useful for tempting an absent audience.

Poetry

By: JD DeHart chewy is my first reaction upon taking a bite, small salad with pink bits I did not immediately register. deep fried, but then all tastes the same deep fried, but at least we have the slow river…

Poetry

By: Linda M Crate the truth is we haven’t spoken in many moons oceans have cut across us, and there is no whisper that could sew us back together; what we once had was gone enjoy the fact that it…

Poetry

By: Linda M Crate you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t force them to drink; similarly you can harass my mother, but you cannot force me to speak— we are not friends nor will we be again…

Poetry

By: Vasundhara Dudeja A gloomy star amidst the starry night. It twinkled upon the world; Overtaken by woes and plight. Shining on the surface, With quivering insides. It was a gloomy star amidst the starry night. It stretched itself, Beyond it\’s…