YWP Content Published in Newspapers

Young Writers Project is most grateful to its eight newspaper partners who publish your work on a regular basis. Weekly: Burlington Free Press and The Valley News. Monthly: St. Albans Messenger, Brattleboro Reformer, Rutland Herald (and Reader), Times Argus (and Extra), Bradford Journal Opinion and Charlotte News.

The papers have a combined circulation of nearly 75,000 and the papers are read by well over 150,000 people.

YWP staff, volunteers and Community Leaders from this site help select work.  If you'd like to help with this process, contact Susan Reid.


Apr 16

Light in the Darkness

A candle drips wax on an old book
Fireflies dance at the window
Eerie green light shines from a nearby fungus
Eyes glow from under a creaky bed

Apr 15
Larrylovscats's picture


Twirling colors
And engraved
Into each other
Like the water
brushing my toes
Like a blooming
Like a soft-setting sun
The color of the metal we won
The color
Of a evening sky
The silhouette of the birds
That fly by
Like the grass
Under my feet
the colors
Of the people we meet

Apr 13
Fading _Into_Darkness's picture

The Horizon

The Horizon where,
In It´s pinkish-blue,
Softly shaded hue,
The grass does lie.

The Horizon where,
Opposites do meet,
Hot and Cold
Dark and Light,
Meek and Bold,
Wrong and Right,
Joyous and Sad,
Peace and War,
Good and Bad,
Fact and Lore.

The Horizon where,
Everything collides,
Emotions, pain, and great divides.
The rumbling tumult of chaos,
Masked by still on the outside.

The Horizon where,
I long to be,
Chaos, confusion, yet right at home.
Fear, Pain, Love, and Joy,
Whispering thoughts to a lost young boy.

The Horizon,
Just beyond my grasp.

Apr 11
J. Scott's picture

An Ode to Haley Seymour

She was born for politics or press,
with her easy smile,
her endless arsenal
of neatly pressed skirts.
An approachable kind of beauty --
pretty, but not striking or distracting --
a face you instinctually trust,
her gentle, conversational manner
concealing a shrewd nature
and a mind full of steadfast opinions
so confident, yet never abrasive,
persistent without badgering,
never too forceful or too meak.
One finds it natural
to agree with her.

Apr 11
J. Scott's picture

How Ought We to Live?

Existentialism is my vice of choice
my bad habit,
for to theorise and ponder over how we ought to live
misses the point of living.
It squanders our time
assembling a puzzle 
we have but half the pieces to.
It is a game for cowards,
those who fear the deep, guttural 
truth of life,
those who waste their scarce years
asking questions
rather than seeking answers
I know this.
I understand the futility of philosophy
and yet I count myself among their ranks.

Apr 10

The Girl at the Window

There she is, in all her glory
Looking down into the street
Roses in her honey hair
Like honey, she is sweet
Stop and wonder, stand a while
'Til the sun leaves the day
Lift your head, and call her name
But she laughs and turns away
Wearing white, a silken gown
With lips as red as wine
You turn to go, she calls to you
"Come back and stay sometime!"
Apr 10
poem 3 comments challenge: Last

the sunset and night

This is your last chance,
before the day becomes the night,
up at the sky i glance,
the sky has colors so bright,

as soon as you see the color,
it all fades to darkness,
you are like no other,
for most others are heartless,

watch the sun set and the moon rise,
you start to feel a little blue,
as the darkness multiplies,
the days demons you thought were slew
In the night, yet again.They arise.
Apr 10


I may be tiny
but I shine bright
I illuminate the sky
in the dark of night

Many see me
and don’t think I matter
probably believing
I’m nothing but splatter

But the few who look
in hopes of finding me
know that I’m more
than I appear to be

Apr 09


Smile, wider.
Close my eyes.
Second guess my next words.
Think again.
Say something.
Bite tongue.
Watch reaction.
Laugh along.
Second guess.
Wonder why.
Bite tougue.
Speak anyways.
Watch varied reactions.
Play along.
Feel out of place.
Remain quiet.
Close my eyes.
Snappy one-liner.
Maybe it's fake.
"Does anyone else feel this?"
Apr 09

Garden Of False Memories

I must have been between the ages of five or six.

I remember skipping around through fairytale land,

gawking at all the little fairies and their friends.

I remember feeding the ducks in the water,

screaming in fright as they all came crowding around me,

hungry for a tasty morsel to eat.

We only stayed for a few minutes

but I can remember every single detail about the garden.

From the rich and unusual looking plants,

to the vibrant floral patterns embedded in the art pieces.

I remember it all.

The beautiful thing is that it never happened, but I treasure it nonetheless.