Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Poetry

By: Arunima OP You had showered me with attention Took my hand and led me on From light to night, we walked Then you went missing in the dark Leaving me all alone In pursuit of your attention In torment, in…

Poetry

By: Mohammad Jashim Uddin Last night suddenly She wrote- ‘Certainly well? In order to keep well Once I had a firm intention. For that, I am walking though this way now. Once I couldn’t believe it but today everything is…

Poetry

By: Pijush Kanti Deb In my soft childhood my father, teachers and others- all were hard in saying to me, ‘’Man is mortal’’, I accepted looking at the kite flying in the sky. Now I am a confused adult made…

Literary criticism

By: William Scott Harkey  The death of Lord Tennyson’s beloved friend Arthur Hallam yielded perhaps one of the most profound works of poetry and the most sorrowful elegies of commemoration in Western literature.  Within a matter of weeks after receiving word…

Poetry

By: F. Stanton Blake Dear tick like the herpes of the woods you seek to infect my life and vacation I’m not your intended prey and I am not out looking for you you take advantage of my desire to frolic…

Poetry

By: F. Stanton Blake The bluefish is a noble mighty beast not kingly like a lion or tuna not deadly like shark or puma you are a handsome fish rugged lines of muscle and power big brawny bodies mimic the pumped…

Fiction

By: Gaither Stewart   1. I find it curious that with the passage of time many former places of worship of various religions—cathedrals and temples, synagogues and mosques, or the pyramids in the jungles and deserts—change their nature and morph…

Poetry

By: Sajan George suicide is not cowardice but a rare blinding act of pure will by a fearless mind insane though in its own lone ways it requires the agility alertness of a hunter the unwavering focus typical of those losing…

Non-Fiction

By: Tom Sheehan In time much of what we know fades away, moves away, continually moves around us, blinking and scattering, but with a breath of air touches back. It’s a face, a name, a childhood haunt in momentary dispose,…

Fiction

By: JP Miller The day after I arrived in the Nam, I was immediately choppered out to Camp Radcliffe in An Khe where we were tasked to run operations in the central highlands as support for infantry units. I was…