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.


Jun 19
sophie.d's picture

Flower crown

I have 17 flowers on my head
For each of the 16 years I've lived
and one for the year that is to be.

Some are shriveled up by now,
or may I say preserved 
In their barest, waterless state.
Rosy pigmentation wiped away
a quilt of black and white photographs.

Those middle years have retained
structure, color, and a bit of spring
One can dive in and still imagine
the fullness of the year.

As for the most recent
Bees still dip in and out collecting
sweet, dripping nectar
Tails brushing bright pollen memories. 

The tail end is adorned with a little button
of a peach pink bud
Which has only begun to peek
out of it's promising leathery shell.

All these flowers are
gently studded among a twisting vine
Woven into a graceful, but sturdy flower crown
Which can be found perched upon the tip of my head
at any time or place.

Jun 14
poem 3 comments challenge: General
LunaMoonBox's picture

O Lady of the Sea

It's dark and cold. Like the deepest emotion emitting from your lifeless body
The roaring waves crash on the forbidden horizon, with every beat and drum like the endless sound of thunder
Light can't reach the bottom as it pierces through watery graves.

The sun sinks down into the deep...and slowly slips into a dark slumber.
Out of all the things the sea finds floating in the water, 
She hears screams that echo through the blasting night.

They tried to hide her...
They tried to seduce her...
They tried to own her...
They wanted to drown her...

The boat was full of despair and lust for this girl.
But they knew she was everything they could never have.
The brick was tightly attached to her delicate ankle as the noose was pulling her down.
Her wrists swelled at the itchy rope digging in her pale skin.
Her blushed cheeks puffy with tears and abuse.

Nothing could save her now.
Jun 13
Mr. What a drag's picture


We must not give up 

Cause the world is not our home bus
and will lap us anytime. it will
not stop moving, no matter who 
you are

We must not give up

Cause we got dreams 
to feed, and they can 
not be fed by anybody else
except us the people who 
are going to accomplish them

We must not give up

Cause we must tell those
who dare to say that we can't
do it, that we can. 
and they must stop 
underestimating our will to fight,
or they are going to get it

We must not give up

Cause we are trapped in this game of life
and the only way out is to beat it.
But just so you know, we can't defeat this 
game with this low negative level of courage
we must keep moving, we must keep running
we must keep playing, we must keep getting up
we must not give up so we can rise as champions.
Audio download:
Jun 11

It Came

You were a pile of broken bones,
desperately crying for someone,
to put you back together.

You were a fly caught in a web,
trying to flee the black widow,
but she came one night.

You were a ghost in a window,
screaming for those inside to see,
but you were long gone.

You were a torn up photograph,
waiting for someone to repair you,
but you were beyond repair.

I was a farmer with the tools,
to revive your field of hopeless death,
I planted more and more.

No matter what I did to help,
it was never enough to save you.
I never thought you would do it,

but you threw away your bones,
let the black widow come,
broke through the window,
and set your image aflame.

Death is a calling,
and it came.
Jun 11

A Poem For The Girl Who Needs It

This poem is for the girl needs it.
To the girl who cries at night,
whispering her sorrows to the stars;
stitching a new smile for the next day.
Your bravery deserves a medal.

This poem is for the girl who feels numb.
To the girl who hurts to feel,
depression and hopelessness weighing her down;
making her think, "why even bother?"
You are strong, and I believe these moments pass
like each rippling wave.

for each girl who needs this,
you are important,
you are loved
you are not alone.
Jun 10

2:30am New York City

You like the way he wakes up.

Not at all 
and all at once.

bolt upright 
down the stairs 
out the door

Stars are like Suns 
when they fall to Earth.

He collides
and slips back to sleep.  

Jun 08
Lyra's picture

A lesson of the heart

A lesson that many miss out on, but are always hurt by, is the lesson that your heart is never your own.  From birth, your heart is taken by those who show you love and compassion, and you may never regain it. Hidden behind a glass wall, your heart sits awaiting a gentle hand accompanied by soft words. As you go through life, you allow others near your heart, and you can only sit and watch as they either care for your heart or hurt it in one way or another. The key of trust is given to those you care for, but when betrayed by that trust, your heart grows more and more callused. More and more scar tissue builds up with each stab and tear, causing the soft words and gentle hands of those who truly care to be unable to reach it. Soon enough, you give a key to some, but those few who enter and closely watched, and lashed out on when touching your heart.
Jun 08


My teacher thinks I'm strange
I love snow the way
some people love sun.

Snow feels good the way
icy lemonade in August
feels good.

Snow feels good the way
freshly brushed teeth
feel good.

Snow feels good the way
clean sheets just off the line
feel good.

Snow feels good the way
a never read before book
feels good.

Snow feels good the way
fun and happiness
feels good.
Jun 06

Again & Again

Jun 05

I Bought A Life

I bought a life online,
It shipped in two days,
I bought happiness from a doctor,
In the form of orange bottles,
I bought a friend from my mother,
I never see her anyway
And I sold it all to you,
In exchange for a beating.