Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Poetry

By: Akash Rumade Phoenix may rise from its flame, but I am not good at this game, for you have been a distressed dame, who can’t even remember my NAME!

News

Sometimes your child – the most familiar person of all – is radically different from you. The saying goes that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. But what happens when it does? Drawing on interviews with over three…

Poetry

By: Natana Vasuki The harsh exigency of survival Deprives them of subtle felicities of childhood In dim-lit, lime washed rooms Lo! The hopeless little souls… The dream of education has long been erased In their shades of mind They are…

Fiction

By: Reese Scott   He was surprised by the people that came to his funeral. It didn’t make sense to him. He hadn’t spoken to anyone in some time and here they were. Since he had been dead, Jimmy had…

Fiction

By Reese Scott At night the sermons would begin. As I lay in bed and listened, I was unable to locate where the sermons were coming from. I did know they were close. One night I went outside to see…

Poetry

By: Sushmita R Kaneri All day and night, Man seems indulged in greedy fight. Mother Earth was so clean, But no more it is seen. After that dark night, Garbage, junk, pollutants are heaped at great height. All sorts of…

Poetry

By: Kakali Biswas Sengupta Translated by:  Soma Roy Stealing the fragrance of youth Breaking waters, grasshoppers fly away to the eternity Like the girl who appears sans make-up Tracing the flight-marks I walk along Become light, become breeze or spellbound…

Poetry

By: Binoy Mazumdar Translated by: Kousik Adhikari Mind’s remote part, greedy, Eternal receiver, I watch only the blanks, bringing Different warmth, Various winds create the cloudy wave In the remote sky, I think and feel so greedy, After the love….

Poetry

By: Kousik Adhikari After the October rain fades out The sky begins blushing like a newly-wed damsel Yet to be rotten in the game of water, the clouds sail out To some nowhere land, I set aside my nets, angling…

Poetry

By: Christopher Wong Timed writings, analyses, poems, And so much more in store. I really should be excited, But I’m not completely. Choice in class? Ha, never heard of it. “You do as I say,” As my teacher always says….