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.


May 23

Handle With Care

People should come with signs,
'Loves very easily'
'Has trust issues'
Just so we know exactly what we're getting into.
'Will definitely fuck you over'
'Lies a lot'
Because if we try to blindly make friendships with people
it's only fair to understand each others flaws.
So we all have the ability to handle each other with care
if that is what is deserved.
May 22
poem 1 comment challenge: General
laylamorris's picture

Gender Inequality

What injustice is this?

Or is it all plain avarice?

What happened to desire for equality?

There is no sign of isopolity

In places where women draw the short straw

Where nothing against it is stated in the law

It’s funny that some people fail to see

The problems that arise with inequality

In places where all people’s rights are the same

The country itself is better sustained

Than places where women are put down and degraded

Lack of rights leaves them hopelessly segregated

We can help to change the tide

And educate people on issues worldwide

It’s time for inequity to subside

May 21


The Timekeeper's arms and legs
are covered with shiny elaborate watches
fused with his body like leeches
sucking away time
they can’t be removed
always ticking and tocking
all day and all night
the instruments beat their robotic rhythms
keeping him awake at night, never to fall asleep
for sleeping is the biggest waste of time there is
and he must stay exactly on schedule
falling behind would be a horrible disaster
with many brutal casualties.
But one day he notices something.
Every watch is slightly off, each one tells a different time.
Staring unbelievably, the Timekeeper tries to process
the disturbing number missiles bombarding reality.  
What time is it? How will he ever know
right from wrong?
He isn’t just of schedule, the schedule has broken beyond repair.
The Timebreaker tries to patch together the pieces of shattered time
but none of it makes any sense.
May 20
sophie.d's picture

Honey Coated Lips

Hope drips down from my lips
Viscous globs of honey lip gloss
A bee farms sponsorship
Sweet, sweet filter
On all my words and wars.

Hope curdles at my feet
A crescendo of mountainous honey
Air turns it bittersweet
How my legs have turned to turtles
Swimming through gold.

Hope spins me a cocoon
Honey strings envelop me
The eye of a monstrous typhoon
Glued to the ground and caged in
By the one thing I trusted.

Place a beehive on my grave
And let the honey soak through
It’s sickly sweetness I crave
Even under the blanket of death
It defines me.

Plant a beehive in my heart
And let it bloom
Nothing will do us part
I am bursting from the seams with honey
Hope drips down through my veins.
May 18

River Rain

She whispers the weather
to you in class
through clenched teeth.
Something about winter
and rain. 

You know how warm the sun
is and how summer rain
feels like a mild shower
but she doesn’t seem to notice
and pulls on extra jackets
and boots for outside.

You knew she was sensitive. 

You hug her to keep her warm
and proceed to get rained on  
in the process:
water droplets radiate
from her hood. 

You like the way
the water clings to her eyelashes
and dampens her cheeks.
“It’s just some rain” she concludes
quietly and so sure of herself.

You know before
she was just afraid
of too much water 
all at once. 
So much
she probably
couldn’t find her feet. 

You know you’re just afraid
of losing her
to the raging river
and the deep mud
that clouded your pond out back. 
May 18
earleyg's picture

Why I Write –– Quick Free Write

Because it's easier to write than to talk
Because my words on the page are louder than my vocal cords
Because words on a page last longer than words in the air
I write to express myself in more ways than one
I write to remember and forget things I have done
I write cause it's a freedom of speech
And a chance for me to teach
What awaits on the tip of my tongue
That I cannot speak for reasons unknown
Mind blown.
Because I get caught up in life
Because I got an unspeakable strife
Because I sometimes don't know which way is right
That is why I write.
May 17

A winter poem for spring

there's something wrong with
your internal heating system
because you whine about being freezing
when it's 60.
chills up and down your back
fingers tapping 
against jeans
yanking sleeves over
icy knuckles
a constant state of 
feverish frost.

something's wrong with
her external heating system 
a little 
sort of
not entirely

she comes as she is
she won't change herself
because she radiates winter and
it unnerves you.
she won't change herself
though you are spring
and she loves you.
she won't change herself
because she doesn't hate
the cold
she thinks snow is beautiful
the air in her lungs is frosty and full of life.

she is winter and it won't be warm until she wants it to be.

May 16
g_rob02's picture

who am I?

In a world of ignorance and uncertainties,
who am I, a mere man,
 to question divine intervention,
who am I, a mere man,
to believe to know my own future,
and who am I, a mere man,
 to believe to know what is wrong, and what is right?
A mere man of
lacking actions,
but a mere man the same...