Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Richard D. Hartwell

Even Writers Need A Fix

By: Richard D. Hartwell   My Morning Journal opening entry seems to capture an element of my fixation as a writer. Is there really a compulsion to write? For some there must be, but I think my own compulsion is now…

Story: What a Trip!

By: Richard D. Hartwell You could say that the trip decided itself. In the car, on the way to Adalanto, neither of them can agree who had brought up the idea first, let alone how it was finalized. But by six-thirty…

Non-fiction: Semper Fidelis

By: Richard D. Hartwell   She’d been plying him with gifts for a month or so. He started to stay over about halfway through the month. A few of his uniform things hung in her closet, but mostly the new things…

Poem: Discord

By: Richard D. Hartwell  Not for the first time, Perhaps for the last, I note this is no monologue, Rather a continuing, one-sided dialogue. You, Sitting there embalmed On your judgmental stool. You, Calling yourself a person of discourse Are…

Poem: Suffer the Children

By: Richard D. Hartwell Suffer anguish of memory, family close as sticky-rice, grain to grain, gene to gene, coagulated and congealed. Cannot un-remember psychological molestation, brutality of hidden scars, rage of emotional rape. Dark memories filled with white lies, spoiled…