Literary Yard

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Poetry

By: Debleena Majumdar Right behind the corner, Right below the neon lights, Springs up everyday, The pop-up marketplace. What will you buy today? Designations decked up In priceless crystals, Buzzwords weighed by A kg of likes and shares, What will…

Poetry

By: Debleena Majumdar It’s morning; I feel it. From behind the choke Of the closed curtains From below the shroud Of the bedcovers I reach out my hand To my trusted friend “Get out of bed” app. Black screen stares back….

Literary criticismNews

Literary Yard has received the following press note about ‘Rhapsodies and Musings’ to be formally launched on 25 July, 2015. It is a literary criticism book that is expected to give more and relevant insights into the works of Sharmila…

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…