YWP NEWSLETTER- 8.27.18

THE WEEKLY NEWSLETTER
This is the last newsletter of August, meaning school is right around the corner. Ugh. Those you who did their summer homework early instead writing, I applaud you. Congratulations also goes to the writers whose pieces were selected for the Anthology 9, YWP's collection of yearly highlights.

The next paragraph is just reminders about the newsletter and YWP news.

This newsletter highlights writing, audio, images and any happenings in the YWP Community. We are a small band of YWP Community Leaders who also help create Challenges, select Daily Reads, Recommended, and work for Publication. As the editors of the newsletter, our role is to bring you authors extra audience and shine and to bring you readers some special pieces of work. Please pass along this newsletter or the links to the stories to bring the authors even more viewers. Enjoy! 

This week we feature the writing and images of adalet, a.harkness02, CateBuley, lia.chien, k.daigle, Love to Write, and Abriatis.

View all previous newsletters here.

green silk and marigold hearts
by adalet

today the sky is red,
as red as life
red like resilience
rosy and animated,
filling me with hope.

today the sky is orange,
orange like healing,
orange like recovery,
sweet like cinnamon,
with victory on the horizon.

today the sky is yellow
like shining sunlight,
the gift of warmth
from the universe,
a reminder to breathe.

today the sky is green,
like the earth and nature below me,
softly shaking in the breeze
it makes you feel whole
with the intent of grounding you.

today the sky is blue,
and bittersweet peace
dances through the air
despite it all,
we come to terms with the truth.

today the sky is purple,
magical, spiritual,
and although we are apart,
the spirit, the heartbeat,
the connection lives within our souls.

and now the sky is pale,
neutral, unknown
the future is uncertain
but the message filling the air
is that we'll carry on.

(Photo credit, above: a.harkness02)
One of Those Days
by CateBuley

It was one of those days. 
Those days in late fall where the maple trees
are bursting with crimson and gold.
Where the light filtering through the trees,
seems to dance with the shadows.
Where the brookes all seem to be laughing,
and the birds always singing.
They might have been singing then too,
but he could not hear them over the echos
of his own heartbeat.
And that's when he saw her,
in the golden light her hair shined like honey.
Her green eyes seemed to be ablaze,
her soft lips stretched up into a playful smile.
He could have mapped out the freckles on her face,
as one might the stars.
The world seemed to stop,
even if only for a moment.
He had seen her before of course,
but never like this,
but never this way.


(Photo credit, above: lia.chien)
My Hummingbird Companion 
by k.daigle

With their rapid beating hearts and tiny wings,
they flutter around like stars in my own universe.
Swirling tones of a green and yellow storm they sing
their sweet, silent songs of melodical verse.

“What is it like to be a human being?”
the birds ask with their unvoiced inquiry.
“To have a body like yours must be freeing,
instead of our bones, so fragile and wiry.”

Should I tell them the truth to their question,
or let them live on in their peaceful naiveté?
My lips part to give them the hurtful confession,
although something inside me kept it at bay.

“You wish for a human body like mine,
but blessings don’t come without a price.
While I long to fly above the clouds and the pines,
being earthbound is my yielded sacrifice.”

I continue on with sustained vigor,
"Everyone wishes for what they don’t have,
yet they don’t see the crucial figures.
We are made whole, not in two halves.”

“You were made with wings for you were meant to,
just as I was meant to have the bones in my body.
We are all perfect the way we are----it’s true!
We are who we are supposed to embody.”

The birds cease their cyclone as they ponder
the words that have come from my heart----
not the ones they expected, but the candor,
so from my company they quickly depart.

I watch as they swarm away, an emerald river
flying from me, flying from my truth.
One tiny bird stays behind, he quivers
and I can tell he is only a youth.

Somehow I can hear his soft voice
as he studies me as I do him and tells me,
“They left because they didn’t like your choice,
but I understand the words you told us, I see.”

“My friends wanted to know it was better,
for you to pity us for what we are,
to know what it was like to write a letter,
read a book, kick a ball, drive a car.”

“Your words, they were the right thing to tell them,
because although they don’t get it, I do.
Like a flower grows beautifully from a stem,
so will I continue on your enlightened view.”

My hummingbird companion, so quiet and small,
he understands me, deep down and so thoroughly,
that he will convey it everyone and to all,
and with that he takes off hurriedly.

After this encounter, I realize something;
it doesn’t matter if they all accept you,
but if one does, it means everything.
Hopefully one day you’ll know that, too.

With warmth in my heart and smile on my face,
I will remember that hummingbird everyday.
Whenever I feel down or angry, I allow myself to embrace
the fact that one friend will make it all okay.


(Photo credit: Love to Write)

TINY WRITE

My want to do everything is destroying my will to do anything.
--Abriatis

 

YWP NEWSLETTER- 8.20.18

THE WEEKLY NEWSLETTER
Welcome back to the Young Writers Project Newsletter!! Hope you all have had a great end of summer reading, writing, getting inspired, maybe doing some long put-off homework, trying to hold on to what little heat Vermont has left us. Enjoy this weather while it lasts! Remeber to post your own writing and photography to get recognition for your art.

Skip this next paragraph; just reminders about the newsletter and YWP happenings.

This newsletter highlights writing, audio, images and any happenings in the YWP Community. We are a small band of YWP Community Leaders who also help create Challenges, select Daily Reads, Recommended, and work for Publication. As the editors of the newsletter, our role is to bring you authors extra audience and shine and to bring you readers some special pieces of work. Please pass along this newsletter or the links to the stories to bring the authors even more viewers. Enjoy! 

This week we feature the writing and images of LukeTheDuke, Abriatis, Drift, mythicalquill, lila woodard, and Rubber Soul

View all previous newsletters here.

All the ideas are taken
by LukeTheDuke

All the ideas are taken
and I don’t know what I should write.
Being one inch tall and a giant awakens?
Or maybe the power of flight?

No, it’s been done; I’ve seen it before!
To steal their ideas would be theft.
I’m sitting here with an empty page,
but there are simply no ideas left!

You see, Hollywood knows what it’s doing –
rebooting an old film or just making a sequel.
And if that doesn’t work
‘cause they need some green,
who’s to stop them from making a prequel?

But I don’t want to do that.
I want to be new! To make something fresh and exciting.
If I had been born
a hundred years in the past,
I’d have so many ideas for my writing!

Then my 6-year-old bro says,
“Wouldn’t it be cool – the story of an outer space hen?”
And I look at my page, start writing things down,
realizing what a big fool I have been.

(Photo credit: Abriatis)
Moving Out
by Drift

I thought I was good at this.
The whole
"Say goodbye and move on"
ordeal.
I told myself it was routine
and it was exhilarating every time.
I used to hail change as my savior,
because it felt like despite
my stable home
I was still wrapped in a blanket
of turmoil.

I love adventuring.
I love the unfamiliarity.
I crave chaos like it craves me.
There was nothing I loved more
than my muscles twitching with anticipation
just waiting for my next move,
the spontaneity
and the unexpected
that was vast enough to swallow me whole.
I loved that.

Or so I thought.

I was raised in this world
to move like a sprint,
to pounce as if it was my vice.
I was fine with that,
I accepted that and believed it.

Why am I hesitating?
Why are there clothes scattered on my floor,
littered like the bodies of old versions of myself?
Why are the boxes and the bags and the labels downstairs
haunting my nights?

All of a sudden,
I'm frozen to the spot.
I'm paralyzed with fear,
and it's struck me straight through
to my core.
I'm reminded I'm still a child,
lost
and in love with my family.
I love my friends
and my safety,
and it's getting harder to tear myself away from that.
The blisters on my hands from scissors
are expanding
and they're ready to burst
as I snip at every last tie.
Goodbye is the last thing I wish to say.

I thought I was good at this.


(Photo credit: mythicalquill)
Purple
by lila woodard

the hand i held was his now,
no longer painted in my subtle purple hues. 
 

TINY WRITE

Art is what happens when people put their insanity to good use.
-- Rubber Soul

YWP NEWSLETTER- 8.13.18

THE WEEKLY NEWSLETTER
It's mid-August already!! Who's ready for school? Yeah. . .me neither. Hope everyone has had plenty of time to write and enjoy the work of fellow young writers even though the summer has gone by so fast! Rememeber to post and share your creations to get feedback and publication!

This next paragraph is a YWP Newsletter info update, skip it if you're a regular/

This newsletter highlights writing, audio, images and any happenings in the YWP Community. We are a small band of YWP Community Leaders who also help create Challenges, select Daily Reads, Recommended, and work for Publication. As the editors of the newsletter, our role is to bring you authors extra audience and shine and to bring you readers some special pieces of work. Please pass along this newsletter or the links to the stories to bring the authors even more viewers. Enjoy! 

This week we feature the writing and images of EmilyAnne, chloen, Rovva, Abriatis, dogpoet, Hazel.C., and BloodMoon825

View all previous newsletters here.
 

17-year-old Thoughts on a Thursday Morning
by EmilyAnne

I'm making jam at 8:30 in the morning,
a humid, rainy morning. 

I wonder if this isn't Vermont,
and instead, everyone's been fooling me;
I must be in Florida. 

I look over my shoulder and
see a hummingbird drinking from that fake red flower we put up
and worry if the fox is near the chickens,
who cluck blissfully in their pen. 

I wonder if next year I'll be New York City,
grabbing coffee in a crowded bakery with steamy windows. 

Or taking a stroll around the quiet streets of Santa Barbara, 
my hair getting lighter the longer I stay in the sun.

Or watching the leaves slowly turn gold,
as I take a bus into Boston for an escape of theater and gardens.

Or maybe I'll be in Colorado,
skiing...which I haven't done in years. 

I could be anywhere.

It's an exciting time to be alive, isn't it?


(Photo credit, above: chloen)
Voices of the Shadows
by Rovva

I can hear the choir,
crying in the night,
shouting inaudibly,
barely kept in harmony.
And though their voices ring,
like chiming bells,
and their shrieks,
shatter my heart,
I cover my ears,
and duck my head,
for the raven squawks,
high in the forked tree.
I mustn't listen.
I mustn't see.
I mustn't hear,
the song of Thana,
for I am afraid.
The shadows which,
beseech me to follow,
are but a trick of the light.
I have lost my mind,
yet my soul is intact,
and they have come,
to rip it from me.

O, I have fathomed my grave!
My mind is buried,
and my bones ache.

Come sweet,
come bitter.
Come warm,
come cold.
Come cheery,
come weary.

Come!
Take me away!
 
(Photo credit, left: Abriatis)
Small Girl's Journey
by dogpoet

Small girl walks
forward,
to take her turn at last,
to quench her thirst.

Small girl wears
a dusty white rag, dirty and ripped from it's journy.

Small girl looks
like a dust moat fairy,
hair in a featherlight knot of dust, feet in a layer of dirty dust, face and arms and legs covered 
in
dust.

Small girl feels
tired
thirsty
dry 
sore
craving water
dusty.

                  Dust
                                      
                              
                                              settles



                                                                               down.


(Photo redit, right: Hazel.C.)
 

Tiny Write
you like to test the waters,
i like to dive right in.

you tread softly,
and i am heard from a mile away.

you are earth,
and i am fire.

but we need each other.

that's why i love you.

--BloodMoon825

YWP NEWSLETTER- 8.6.18

THE WEEKLY NEWSLETTER
This is the first newletter of August!! This is MY first time making it, and I'm looking forward to selecting all the great pieces you guys create. Hope you all will enjoy viewing some great writing and photography. Remember to upload your poetry, stories, and pictures to get featured!!

You know the drill. . .skip this next part if you regularly check the YWP Newsletter.

This newsletter highlights writing, audio, images and any happenings in the YWP Community. We are a small band of YWP Community Leaders who also help create Challenges, select Daily Reads, Recommended, and work for Publication. As the editors of the newsletter, our role is to bring you authors extra audience and shine and to bring you readers some special pieces of work. Please pass along this newsletter or the links to the stories to bring the authors even more viewers. Enjoy! 

This week we feature the writing and images of nean_bean, Love to Write, Abriatis, mythicalquill, Driftlwoodand Icestorm

View all previous newsletters here.
 

Origami Wolf
by nean_bean

I saw your eyes first.
You had a little bit of grey behind them.
Your eyebrows strung together,
And your forehead knit itself into a scarf.
I think it would be orange.

You said
“This is for me?”
As if you were surprised
That someone would take the
Time to make something for you.

...

I said “yes it’s for you (silly)”
Your scarf unraveled quite quickly.
You kinda bit your lip
Before you smiled.
It was a small smile.
It was only a tiny bit of light let
In
Through the blinds.
 

(Photo credit, above: mythicalquill)
When Everything Left
by Love to Write 

It was sunny the morning everything left. 
The birds in the trees,
ripples on the water,
and you in your shaft of light,
eyes closed,
dust in your short, dark hair. 

We were happy,
I would have it forever. 

And then, you left. 
Quiet steps down the walk 
and a train ticket in a worn-out
overall pocket. 

And you wrote me 
but me but I never did the same.

Because who leaves without saying goodbye
(except the sun, maybe)?
And who forgets to close the door
on the way out
(except when you’re in such a big hurry

you forget who you’re leaving)? 

Don't you remember who
we were together? 


(Photo credit, left: Drift)
I Am Tired of Not Feeling Safe
by Abriatis

I am tired of not feeling safe.

Is it because I am a girl?
Is it because I go to high school?
Is it because I've been pressured to drink by my own family?

I do not know.

I am just tired of it.

I am tired of thirty-year-old men staring at me after a bike race once I changed into the well-fitting shirt I received.
I am tired of hearing my classmates speculate on who was most likely to bring a gun to school.
I am tired of getting messages on Facebook from my twenty-three-year-old cousin, asking me if I want to 'get shitfaced'.

I just want to feel safe in my own skin.

I don't want to stand with my arms over my chest.
I don't want to think about what would happen if someone brought a gun to school.
I don't want to block my own family online, when I know I won't see them for months.

Is it bad to want out? Out of this..torment?

My problems are just laughed at. They're not worth the anxiety they cause.

It's because I'm a kid, isn't it? 
A dumb, naive, fifteen-year-old girl.

It's just my hormones, isn't it?

It's just my imagination, isn't it?

It always is.


(Photo credit, right: Drift)

Tiny Writes
There's so many words in us that we just let loose to drift
Floating in the still air, they make up the space between us
Most of them go unnoticed and uncommented on
Maybe we wanted it that way, but most likely we didn't
--lwood

ART GALLERY

Photo credit: Icestorm
Photo credit: mythicalquill
Photo credit: nean_bean

YWP Newsletter- 7.30.18

THE WEEKLY NEWSLETTER
This is the last newsletter for July... I hope you enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed making them! Next month- for August we'll have a new primary editor for some variation and new weekly favorites. Have a great August and end of summer! 

If you already know what the YWP Weekly Newsletter is feel free to skip the next paragraph. 

This newsletter highlights writing, audio, images and any happenings in the YWP Community. We are a small band of YWP Community Leaders who also help create Challenges, select Daily Reads, Recommended, and work for Publication. As the editors of the newsletter, our role is to bring you authors extra audience and shine and to bring you readers some special pieces of work. Please pass along this newsletter or the links to the stories to bring the authors even more viewers. Enjoy! 

This week we feature the writing and images of Nightheart, Aidster21, angelaweasley, Hazel.C., Drift, and Maddi Clair

View all previous newsletters here.
 

Cancer 
by Nightheart 

“ your aunt has cancer.”

No.

takeafastbreathinclose
youreyes,trynottoletitall
comepouringout.

how
could 
this
happen?

thisdoesnthappen,nottous
maybetootherpeoplebut
nottouspleasegodwhere
areyou?

”how bad is it?”

please.

icantlethergo,
howcananyoneletanyone
go,it’sunthinkablethata
fewcellsgrowinginsidehermight
takeheraway.

only
in
the
middle
stages.

thetearscomerippingout
andicantcontrolthemanymore,
thereisnostoptothesadness
anditfeelslikeaholeis
beingtorninsideofme,
fabricteraingapartwithaharshpull.

”are you ok?” 

howcouldanyonebeokay,
iamnotokaybutilookaroundand

i’ve
got
to
be
strong.

”yes”
 

(photo credit, above: Aidster21
I Chose Money Over My Father and I Don't Regret It 
by angelaweasley

because of what I bought.

love is a currancy i hesitate to spend.

i have $483 dollars of non-refundable
deposits of memories.
deflation is inevitable.

my love was only worth
5 calls
and 
an email.

they taught me macro-econmics in school
but i think he only learned
micro.

he was expensive.

love was the only payment i knew before
he started asking for another.

dirty money

that's what he threw at me.
resentment,
guilt,
anger,

anything to keep me buying.

my debit cards have a limit
and i think he found mine.

i chose money over my father and i don't regret it
because i spent it on my
mother
my
sister
my
friend
my
self.

i chose money over my father

and i am 

all the richer now.

(photo credit, left: Hazel.C.)
Anything But a Homebody 
by Drift 

I.
Transition comes to me.
It seeks me out
and urges me forward.
Buildings blur and warp
as I wander
from street to street.
My feet wear down soles
without hesitation.

II.
It started with a gate.
From a mother’s arms
to the gates of an orphanage
to a standard issue bed
to a foster home.
I am exchanged from embrace to embrace
and loaded onto a plane.

III.
I lingered,
feet planted in loose soil
and reached for the sun
with open palms
and slender fingers.
It was bright and warm,
perfect and comfortable.

IV.
I changed schools.
Willingly of course.
Change had latched on like a leech,
buried in my bones.
I couldn’t stay still even if I wanted to.

V.
I am tearing my hair out,
it comes in clumps
and washes down the drain.
I want to leave,
to stretch out
and feel new air.

VI.
I am gone,
a distant memory.
Maybe in another life
I’ll see that smile.

(photo credit, right: Maddi Clair)

Tiny Writes 
If I’m “only 13” 
Maybe the world 
Should start 
Acting like it.
--Nightheart 

 

Newsletter- 7.23.18

THE WEEKLY NEWSLETTER
More newslettering! I hope you enjoy it! And as always, if you already know what the newsletter is, feel free to skip the next paragraph. 

This newsletter highlights writing, audio, images and any happenings in the YWP Community. We are a small band of YWP Community Leaders who also help create Challenges, select Daily Reads, Recommended, and work for Publication. As the editors of the newsletter, our role is to bring you authors extra audience and shine and to bring you readers some special pieces of work. Please pass along this newsletter or the links to the stories to bring the authors even more viewers. Enjoy! 

This week we feature the writing and images of GabriellaF, nishah101, serenamae2020, Aidster21, glu.gun, and Abriatis

YWP HAPPENINGS

YWP has moved to a new office at the Karma Birdhouse in Burlington!

Summer of Stories is happening! Read more here

View all previous newsletters here.

Make sure you're reading all the great summer work here

The Quiet 
by GabriellaF

The quiet comes
like a cat stalking prey

It sits hanging in the air
reminding of loneliness and pain.
Trapping, suffocating, killing
with its emptiness

(photo credit, above: nishah101)
 
Fifty Words to Freedom 
by serenamae2020

Flickering bulbs
shadows light my prison

The silence is deafening

He's here for me

​I'm out again
how? 

In a car
wheels rumble
​going where? 

​Thump, 
​thump, 
thump, 
goes my heart

​Door opens
​forced out 

Fought

​Dumped, 
like nothing happened

​Seeing stars

​Highway traffic

Sirens

They're here

​I am free

(photo credit, left: Aidster21
Perspectives 
by glu.gun

Sometimes I forget
That my vases,
Porcelain and decorated with intricate cerulean details,
The result of years of hard work and sweat,
The ones that are now shattered, jagged, and ruined,
Scattered on the marble floor in shards,
Appear merely as wooden blocks to the passersby.

To them, it was once a sturdy tower
And it will be again, as if time had waited.

To them, my problems appear small and ordinary,
Easily fixable.

I wish I had known this earlier.


(photo credit, right: nishah101)
 

Tiny Writes
The truth is not something to be forced.
--Abriatis

The Art Gallery

A collection of frogs 
by Aidster21

YWP Newsletter- 7.16.18

THE WEEKLY NEWSLETTER
Welcome to another weekly newsletter. Mid-July is always a lot of fun, ice cream, swimming, outside play, reading, writing (Post it all on YWP!) this week we have some new amazing photos and a lot of incredible writing, keep it up! 

If you already know what the newsletter is, feel free to skip the next paragraph. 

This newsletter highlights writing, audio, images and any happenings in the YWP Community. We are a small band of YWP Community Leaders who also help create Challenges, select Daily Reads, Recommended, and work for Publication. As the editors of the newsletter, our role is to bring you authors extra audience and shine and to bring you readers some special pieces of work. Please pass along this newsletter or the links to the stories to bring the authors even more viewers. Enjoy! 

This week we feature the writing and images of a.harkness02, JuliaR, maxwellzlila woodard, angelaweasley, and hills1.

YWP HAPPENINGS

Summer of Stories is happening! Read more here

Join in on the short story workshop here!

Did you miss any of the previous newsletters? Click here.


How to Be Empty 
by JuliaR

The branches project a shadow 
onto my paper thin skin.

I can see the sun sipping the clouds
sweet water as they float by.

Everything is soft around me
and even my eyes are quiet
against the wind.

Birds fly ahead
whispering secrets
this is what peacefulness 
feels like.

The sensation of being fully 
willingly 
taken.

(photo credit, above: a.harkness02)

Pretty Girls with Pretty Lies 
by lila woodard 

Her face
illuminates
mine
Stunning in
her sin and
disease
pulchritudinous even to a
king
an ineffable
deity
Breathing
my light blue
perfume in
ounce by ounce
and breathing
out pretty
lies
they warned
me about the
ones like
her,
pretty girls
with pretty
lies.

(photo credit, left: maxwellz
They/Them: The Way They Speak 
by hills1

they speak in poetry.
their first word was "revolution";
can you believe it?
each sentence they speak—
passionate sonnets,
each word has to be soaked
in intellectual meaning
(they're also very smart too).
they also speak in couplets
two line of a verse that rhyme;
sarcasm, maybe.
haikus are a whole other language,
five
seven
five
every time they open their mouth
they make unintentionally beautiful patterns.
each ballad,
cinquain,
and epitaph they utter,
could make a book,
a novel
of poetry.

(photo credit, right: angelaweasley )

Tiny Writes 
You will always be you;
Forever. 
And, Love...
That’s a long time to hate yourself.
--lila woodard 

YWP Newsletter- 7.9.18

THE WEEKLY NEWSLETTER
Hello again, this is the second newsletter of July! For me, summer is a great time for writing because there is so much free time and open inspiration. I hope you are getting lots of quiet, summer downtime to write and relax! 

If you already know what the newsletter is, feel free to skip the next paragraph. 

This newsletter highlights writing, audio, images and any happenings in the YWP Community. We are a small band of YWP Community Leaders who also help create Challenges, select Daily Reads, Recommended, and work for Publication. As the editors of the newsletter, our role is to bring you authors extra audience and shine and to bring you readers some special pieces of work. Please pass along this newsletter or the links to the stories to bring the authors even more viewers. Enjoy! 

This week we feature the writing and images of a.harkness02Abriatis, H20.hollym, Sarajaney, Firegirl03, lila woodard, and Kitkat

YWP HAPPENINGS

Summer of Stories is happening! Read more on the homepage (scroll down). 

Good Citizen Challenge sounds fun! Read more here

Did you miss any of the previous newsletters? Click here.


A Robin 
by Abriatis

I catch birds
with fishing nets
and ski poles.

(photo credit, above: a.harkness02)

A Goodbye 
by Sarajaney

There is a certain melancholy
In a bare wall.
One that you can't find
In a bare floor.

A wall stripped naked
Marked by stray push pins
Leaving millions of pinholes
That once held up the world.

Little reminders
Marks that connect sisters
Each one passing through just the same
Leaving traces for the next to discover.

This room will transform
Rooms are magic like that.
But no matter how it changes
I've left my mark too.

(photo credit, left: H20.hollym
Footnote
by lila woodard

To her
I was nothing more than a 
conquest
a new muse 
to paint 
and then remove along
with the spring cleaning. 

To her
I was nothing but a breathing flaw,
her calloused hands the answer 
to fix me

My tears were the footnotes no
one ever
cared to read. 

(photo credit, right: Firegirl03

Tiny Writes 
maybe from
the 
moon
(where 
they 
danced 
each night).
--Kitkat

YWP Newsletter - 7.2.18

THE WEEKLY NEWSLETTER
Welcome to the first July newsletter! It's very hot and I hope you all are staying cool and getting lots of swim time! This month a new community leader is editing the newsletters -- and I'm very excited to take my turn at creating them for you all. As a side note-- thank you to June's primary editor for the many great newsletters that were created! I looked foward to reading them each week and the introduction paragraphs were very amusing. 

To community leaders: please, if you find work and pictures that you love tag it as "curated" it helps a lot with creating the newsletter and gives others a chance at getting published in it! 

To everyone: selecting photos for the week is a lot of fun and hard when there aren't many... if you have photos you love, submit them! It's amazing to see the beautiful images on here and submitting them gives you a chance at be published in the newsletter too.  

Anyway, I'm super excited to be newslettering this month! Thanks for reading them. 

If you already know what the newsletter is, feel free to skip the next paragraph. 

Welcome to the YWP Weekly Newsletter! This newsletter highlights writing, audio and images and any happenings in the YWP Community. We are a small band of YWP Community Leaders who also help create Challenges, select Daily Reads, Recommended, and work for Publication. As the editors of the newsletter, our role is to bring you authors extra audience and shine and to bring you readers some special pieces of work. Please pass along this newsletter or the links to the stories to bring the authors even more viewers. Enjoy! 

This week we feature the writing of adalet, jbird18, pbellomo2021, a.harkness02, Drift, Flowerdragon, AboutToSnap, sophie.d, and Icestorm

YWP HAPPENINGS
Summer of Stories has begun! Read more here.

Castleton University is launching an academy for high school seniors! Read more here

Read GG's "Lights Out" post about his break from YWP's executive director after 12 years here! We'll miss you GG! 

Did you miss any of the previous newsletters? Click here.
 

Coffee with Honey 
by adalet

she was surprised to find that
sometimes home can look like
a mother with eyes like
the mediterranean and a smile
soaked in honey

a feeling found in twisted
hair, as soft as moss and bitter
as black coffee, written
in tongues foreign yet familiar, in
dust that tickles your nose and in
laughter that shakes you to the core

sometimes home is a fleeting sense
of recognition, of familiarity
found in the corners of a smile or
the edges of softening eye
contact- that moment of "our
souls have known each other since
the beginning of time and
i would recognize you 
anywhere," perhaps you
truly see me

(photo credit, above: jbird18)
Words 
by pbellomo2021

You saw her,
Sitting there.
You didn't say a thing.
Teary eyed,
Dust filled lungs. 
Her silent cry for help.
"Don't look back,"
Said your mind.
But you hoped someone would. 

Words, 
How little they seem until it's too late. 

 
(photo credit, left: a.harkness02)
Tough Pill to Swallow 
by Drift

I.
I remember swallowing a lump in my throat
you fiddling with your hands in the chair next to me.
We were nervous energy, unrefined
and just waiting to crash and burn.
Caffeine capillaries
and bloodshot eyes,
we knew our late night and early morning
with fingertips tapping at keyboards numbly.
That lump melted away as the sun shone down
from behind us, warm and inviting.
I knew it was fine.

II.
I remember clearing my throat in your car.
I swallowed hard to forget.
You laughed,
spindly fingers turning the knob on the car radio
to full blast
as you whipped down the straight away,
windows down,
and me yelling.
You screamed along,
lyrics visceral and raw.
I could feel your form
breathe in the sunbeams
and you lit up
with the light and fire
of a thousand stars in broad daylight.

III.
I loved you.

IV.
I remember driving in the rain,
my eyelids heavy.
Iced tea bellies
and thrifted wares,
our wallets were lighter
but our memories bigger.
I had my hand in yours
and it was warm and comforting.
I was shivering and you told me
to grab your jacket from the back
and I curled into that worn denim
and cherished it.
We got home too fast.

V.
I loved you.

VI.
It’s hard to swallow
and my head is reeling.
It’s fuzzy and fleeting,
drifting from my field of vision
like your dainty dandelion wishes.
Fleeting.
That’s how I’d describe it.
It was raining again as we drove.
I remember us arguing.

VII.
The end is hard to swallow.
I loved you.
But we gave up.

(photo credit, right: a.harkness02

Tiny Writes
Dreams are realities that are yet to be found.
--Flowerdragon


 

The Photo Gallery

Island Getaway Night 1 by AboutToSnap
Tiny Writes Lettering by sophie.d
quote by Icestorm

YWP Newsletter - 6.25.18

THE WEEKLY NEWSLETTER
Every month, the position of primary editor of the newsletter rotates to a different community leader. The goal of that--besides splitting the work--is to give you diversity each month in the kind of writing you see featured here. Each editor has unique tastes in poetry and photographs, and the newsletter can reflect that by being created by a new person each month. Because this is the newsletter's fourth week, this is my final week as editor, for now. Another editor will be taking over for the month of July, and another for August, and so on. TO COMMUNITY LEADERS READING THIS: You can recommend work for the newsletter by putting the tag "curated" on it, and the editor will look through those tagged pieces. Anyways, thanks to everyone who puts their work on YWP. I really enjoy looking through it every week, please keep sharing your writing and photos!  

If you already know what the newsletter is, feel free to skip the next paragraph. 

Welcome to the YWP Weekly Newsletter! This newsletter highlights writing, audio and images and any happenings in the YWP Community. We are a small band of YWP Community Leaders who also help create Challenges and select Daily Reads, Recommended and work for Publication. As the editors of the newsletter, our role is to bring you authors extra audience and shine and to bring you readers some special pieces of work. Please pass along this newsletter or the links to the stories to bring the authors even more viewers. Enjoy! 

This week we feature the writing of fran.cesca, michmich, and sidney b., and photos by Hazel.C., Love to writeSilverGooseDancer, and aesythe.

YWP HAPPENINGS
Summer of Stories has begun! Read more here.

Read the Seven Days article about the GG to SR switch here

Did you miss any of the previous newsletters? Click here.

(Photo, above, credit: nean_bean)


For Summer

by fran.cesca

it’s the heavy air
the parched grass’s thirst 
quenched 
the dog napping sprawled on a weathered deck

it’s dirt collecting on calloused bare feet
it’s slivers on your palm and pollen in your nose 

the whine of insects and the distant chuckle of farm equipment

senses melded together because,
which one is which?

i’m stuck in the lull of it. 
and i wouldn’t change a thing


(photo credit:SilverGoose)
Rain Dance
by Sidney B.

The heartbeat I hear booms like thunder.
The thunder I hear precedes the brilliant flash of your electric words.
The flash signals to hundreds of bullets of water that it's time to plummet from the eye of the sky, to explode all over me.

You're soaked from head to toe in those raindrops your lightning brought down.
Now I'm alone with these thoughts of blinding lights and frozen teardrops.
And you'll be alone too, y'know.

You'll be as alone as me,
With that thunderous heart,
And your lightning lies,
And the truth they impart.

Since you, pal, you don't know how to quit or stay quiet,
To take a cue and go by it,
To make an oath to die by it.

Instead, you jitterbug and prance and waltz your way through life.
Your lightning lies and thunder heart, just a part of the chorus in your rain dance.
The sky's eyes water with every step and lyric, but you couldn't care if you tried.
"C'est la vie," you laugh.

But that ain't fair, you know it's not,
'Cause I hate what you're doing,
And we share the same feet.
I've let you have the rain.

Now I'll take the lead.

( photo credit:Hazel. C.)
A Hiding Place for the Mind
by Michmich

Afraid of the light...
Afraid of the dark...
where else can I go
but the grey?

Where time trips over emotions
and the soul dissipates
into air.

Where fire is nonexistent
and the only warmth
you can find,
is rain...

I can hide in my
newspaper cave.
And chew slowly on
my solidifying hopes.

Watching my dreams fly
and taunt me from the
harsh light, and mysterious dark

I refuse to try.
I sit and regret.
‘Why did I give up?’

(Photo credit: Dancer)

Tiny Writes
playgrounds are more fun when they're empty
--Rovva

The Photo Gallery

Seeker by aesythe
Poppies by Love to write

Pages