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.




 


 
Sep 19
joseph.deffner's picture

The After Life




I look around and see many ghosts-so many lost souls, like me. I died at birth, never getting a glimpse of what people call “mom.” I never got to giggle with my “dad” holding me above his head in pride. I never got to feel the wrinkly skin of a grandmother or grandfather against my face.
I grew up with the cold touch of a ghost, with the howling of lost souls. Never once did I feel the mother’s love for her daughter, just the sorrow of a mother who died and missed her child.
The new souls glide around me-their cold touch foreign, for they are newly dead.

A little  baby is crying, and I feel a ping in my heart. The girl looks so much like me- brown eyes, with soft golden tufts of hair, and a wide pink mouth with little teeth.
Sep 19
joseph.deffner's picture

The After Life

The after life is like a whole other world,-a world that you can do stuff that you wouldn't normally do. You could stay up all night and party and not feel tired in the morning. Or say you were doing something that would normally make you feel sore the next day. But here, that does not happen. That's why I’m here to tell you about it.
Sep 18

I Don't Understand

“I don't understand.”

Is what he said to me, as I let myself say everything I felt the need to say, everything that I had bottled up for so long.

That’s what everyone says.

And he didn't understand.

He couldn’t.

Was it the way I paused? The way I still couldn’t let myself give in to showing every emotion, every colorful thought that crossed my mind?

Was it because he didn’t want to believe it?

Did he know what I meant?

Did he know why I decided to open up to him in a time that had no need for such things?

“I don’t understand.”

Is what he said to me.

I tried and tried, again and again, after hardly healed from my past mistakes, I had to make myself explain. I had to give my reasons. Or else they’d think I didn’t care.

Was I speaking in a way that made my words seem unclear?
Sep 18
Woolg's picture

That's My Mom

Ms. School Board Chair. You must know her-oh, you do? Did you see her teaching kids tennis? No? Then wasn’t it at school, did she welcome you on your way in? Did she help you with your academics, get you on the soccer team? Watching your sports game? Saw her at graduation? Or did she come to your house just to say hi to your family and meet all your siblings? Maybe all of them? Oh, then I guess you just know her to be the best mom in the world. Speaking of which, did she tell you how amazing her kids are--wait, oops wrong one. Did her kids tell you how lucky they are to have her? She’s kind, she knows everyone. She cool. “ I love how dedicated she is to every kid in BUrlington, whether she knows them or not.” She has 5 million jobs yet she always has the time to come over and say hi. Well, more than hi, how was your day? Do you like your classes? How are sports going for ya? This is what kids think.
Sep 18

To The Best Sister in the World

You can spot her in a crowd
No matter how large.
Her shock blonde curly hair,
Bouncing and blowing in the wind.

She's an avid runner,
running nonstop,
Which makes her happy
all the time.

She rarely complains,
except when it's about homework.
She always has a helpful tip
or idea about something.

She has a big heart,
and always encourages you
to do what you want
not what others want.

She is grateful for everything,
getting excited over the smallest things,
and being extremely thankful
for whatever it is.

When she laughs,
her nose crinkles at the top,
and she laughs so hard,
that it's silent

My sister,
Emma,
is more
than I could ask for.
Sep 18

Just a Little Upstream

Oh, how I hate saying goodbye.
 
Maybe I should lie and say,

“See you soon.”

And with a sigh I send the rosebud down the river.

It floats downstream and disappears.

I remember you staring out the window,

summer, autumn, winter, spring, repeat.

You sat faithfully beside me, on the bank above the stream,

your ears perked,

your nose twitching,

your hazel brown eyes tracking the rustle of leaves.

Tonight I lie out under the stars like we used to.

Do you remember?

You always fell asleep as I told you stories of the constellations,

my fingers running through your long, soft fur.

Bliss and happiness. I thought it would last forever -

until the day you ran away, upstream from where we would stay.

I remember the pain,
Sep 17
Alaina.J_27's picture

I Have Lost My Way


I have lost my way.
I don't know how.
I don't know why.
I can't escape into the safety of light.
I run.
I hide.

I run, and run, and run,
Moving my legs as fast as they'll go.
Heart racing,
Lungs desperate for air,
Muscles burning,
Arms moving,
Eyes searching,
Hair blowing out behind me,
My feet flying across the ground.
Not fast enough.

My heart pumping blood through my veins.
Not fast enough.

My lungs pulling in air.
Not fast enough.

My brain trying to think of a place to hide,
My eye searching as I run,
Not fast enough.

It’s never fast enough.

I’m not fast enough.
 
Sep 17

Solace


their eyes are like almonds
their breath like release,
and their dreams a little messy
like an unmade bed
but beautiful like a sunrise. 
their fingers moving fast across the globe,
caressing every word in the dictionary.
giving new meaning. 
beautiful in their solace. 
Sep 17
poem 0 comments challenge: Almost
Emma Colby's picture

Moving Forward

The scene in front of her was perfect.  

Almost.

Early morning fog lingered

above the courtyard,

caressing the soccer field,

and tickling the glass windows

that belonged to the brick building.

A few small sets of feet

scrambled up the ramp to the gym,

and a pair of hands

waved to each other

while the other pair

clutched steaming cups of coffee.

The scene in front of her was perfect.  

Almost.

But the car kept moving forward,

past the little school,

and onto the next.



 
Sep 16
sophie.d's picture

The Sky's Utensils

The sky grabbed a knife and spread dirt over the ground like brownie batter in a pan. The sun baked it. The wind shook on green sprinkles. And so this sweet world was born.

Nestled under a wise old trunk, amethyst flowers float over a grass picket fence. Their pliable pea stems jut into ancient brownie crumbs; they stake their claim to this earth. Water, sunlight, wind (life), has granted them the pass of growth that has brought them to this day. Victorious and proud they stand with arms open to the sky. Delicately set petals flutter amongst a timeless breeze, rolling onward like a finger run along a thousand piano keys. Hammering rain has dissolved the nostalgic oval leaf. In lieu lies a crinkled heart on the precipice of its first love. The tenderness of the flowers wafts into the sky. Perhaps, if one opens their nose, their lungs will be renewed with undying endearment.

Pages