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 07
joseph.deffner's picture

The Alarm


The alarm goes off

And I am jumped to my senses

Much to my chagrin and dismay

It’s okay, today will be different

Today will be better

Only I know it won’t be

My bed had never held me harder

How much time had passed?

One minute, an hour?

I didn’t care

Let the world end

I was too tired

Get up I heard from all around me

Should I?

The painful fact that I had to wake up early

And go to school for a gruelingly long day,

Is it worth it for my education?

Yes, it is

I dragged myself out of bed telling myself today will be different,

Today will be better

Only it won’t be
Sep 07
joseph.deffner's picture

Wake


*Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep* The alarm clocked buzzed next to be as I began to flicker my eyes open. The windows were wide open and the light flooded into my room, or at least I think they are. Either that or someone was just blinding me with a giant flashlight, because to be honest, that wouldn’t be too far from reality in the life I live. If you're wondering about my messed up life, well that's whole ‘nother story. But this morning it still seemed different. Maybe it was just because it feels like I'm completely blind from the light and the alarm clock is annoying me half to death, or maybe it's just rainy and no birds are out chirping on my window sill. But either way, I have to find that alarm clock, and maybe just go back to sleep until someone comes and wakes me up for school.
Sep 06
poem 7 comments challenge: Rain
mythicalquill's picture

Change of Heart

I’ve always hated the rain,
Those wet droplets just aren’t for me.
Drying off after is a pain,
As I’m sure all sane people agree.

But now I found myself stuck here,
Outside in the foulest of weather.
Is this a raindrop or tear?
Down my face, they’re all running together.

I want to go home.
I want to be dry.
But I fear that this poem
Won’t clear up the sky.

But wait... what’s this?
A different emotion?
There’s something amiss
Amidst this falling ocean.

There’s a strange feeling
Running straight through my heart.
I feel it’s revealing
Some strange, secret part.

Inside me, something builds—
A peal of laughter, not thunder,
And suddenly I’m filled
With this feeling of wonder.

I gaze at the rain’s translucence,
And I slowly realize:
These drops aren’t really a nuisance,
They’re wonderful gifts from the skies!
Aug 26
AboutToSnap's picture

The beach

Aug 26
AboutToSnap's picture

The beach

Aug 26
AboutToSnap's picture

The beach

Aug 26
AboutToSnap's picture

The beach

Aug 02

RainDrops


Today while walking in the rain,
You flooded into my mind,
As the raindrops seeped through my hair.
Images of you clouded my vision as I climbed our old apple tree.
As the gentle cords of the violin I was listening to collided with the sound of raindrops on metal roofing caressed my ears,
I laid my head against the scratchy feeling of bark on a decades old tree.
Letting the rain drops filtered by leaves cascade down on me,
Seeping into my skin.
My eyes slipping closed as I got lost in the world of fantasy.
Where we ran through a graveyard as the rain began to fall,
We tumbled under an old oak tree.
The rain still falling through a canopy of leaves.
I leaned in and gave you a tender kiss dripping with love,
And you returned it.
But as the thunder rumbled in the distance,
Pulling me back to reality,
Somewhere where you weren't with me.
May 25
hannahschwarz's picture

Molly

You have been the best girl. I think of you constantly. At ten thirty on Tuesday night, I lay on the living room floor with the lights turned off, humming music until my voice broke up into small sobs. I was replaying that morning in my head.

9:34 a.m. Sitting on the top step, tucking my leggings into my socks. 9:36 a.m. Slowly walking down the stairs. 9:37 a.m. Waiting with you. talking to you, running my hand up and down your side. 10:17 a.m. Two veterinarian ladies coming into our home. 10:18 a.m. You, wagging your tail and trying to get off of your bed. You, not succeeding. 10:24 a.m. A green plastic syringe with blue liquid in it. 10:25 a.m. Two handfuls of treats. 10:28 a.m. Your twinkling eyes staring up at me. You, devouring your treats. You, putting your head down between my legs to reach a treat that you had dropped. And you, never lifting your head again.
May 12
AnabelR's picture

Babysitting

            “Bye! I’ll see you this afternoon!” he turned from the doorway, backpack on, lunchbox in hand. “You’ll pick me up at five, right? After your practice?”
            “Mmm,” I answered, distracted by the ringing phone. “Okay.” Private Caller, I thought. I don’t need to pick that up.
            He headed out the door, and shut it behind him. Something had been bothering me about him. He was fine–but something was off. Shoot, I thought as I turned from the door, his fly’s down. It shouldn’t have been a big deal–someone would tell him eventually–but man, third graders can be ruthless. I’ve seen those kids turn on each other for much more trivial matters. I can’t just go out there now and tell him; that could be humiliating–having your older sister walk out and start talking to you in front of all your friends? I guess it would be worse if your mom did it. Mom would do it though. Ugh, what day is she getting back?

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