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 15



there's a storm in my head

it's made
of worries

everything worries me
my work
it worries me
my responsibilities 
they worry me
my future
it worries me

between classes
up stairs, down ramps
passing through crowds
avoiding those who judge 
trying just to make it through the day

and yet, even when I make it...

i close my eyes and i see lightning


after every heartbeat

pounding, flashing

in sync

i hear the high pitched ringing in my ears

when will it go away?

the storm
my fears
my worries
my aches

there's a storm in my head.

May 14
mccaffre1's picture

The book of myths

 I sat on the soft fabrics of my sheets and blankets on my bed. The faint smells of tonight’s dinner of lasagna and garlic breadsticks baking wafted up to my second floor room. After a long day I finally had time to lay back and relax. In my calloused hands I held a cracked and worn down thick hardcover book. Bindings have been un-sewn and pages were falling out of the story. Words covered every surface as I began to read.
May 11


May 10

Loving You

It's like laying down 
fruit and pebbles 
in a basket;
like running on eggs;
curtained shadows 
in a lost stream 
of thought. 

It's like falling up. 
Like dancing
in swolen circles.

Like rubbing off 
a purple tone 
from shriveled flowers.

It's tinder waiting 
for fire. 

I love you for the stars
and never the tide. 

May 09
fiction 0 comments challenge: Sure
CateBuley's picture

One Thing I know For Sure

One thing I know for sure is that I'm leaving.
I want to see more than these old dirt roads,
More than beat up pick up trucks.
I want to see the sky,
In a blinding pink and hues of orange.
I want to see the beach,
Milky white sand and brilliantly blue water.
I want to see the mountains,
Standing tall and watching over small valleys.
I want to see the world,
Full of more colors and places then I could catalog.
Full of so many people I have yet to meet.
Full of so many things I have yet to see.

May 08

How Long

How long do you think I can hold my breath for,
Without cowering away at the first sign of your distress,
And running away without you seeing me?
5 seconds.
I just get scared.

How long do you think I can wait for the light to turn on,
Without wishing I was under the covers of my bed,
Where I know nothing can hurt me but me?
4 seconds.
I'm weak.

How long do you think I can cradle my sorrows,
Until my heart feels too numb to continue,
And my hands can no longer feel?
3 seconds.
I wish it were less.

How long do you think I can dream of things,
Without them being too surreal,
To the point where I know they won't come true?
2 seconds.
It's harder than it sounds.

How long do you think I can rest my head upon my hands,
Before I feel threatened from my toes up,
And my brain starts to think I'm giving in?
1 second.
Trust me.
May 07
Steph_B's picture

One Thing Better Than Poison

I prefer few things,
To the way that poison fills my veins.

But I think that the way you smile is one of them.

Which is strange, because
When you’re smiling I don’t feel any of the kind of pain that I’ve come to call home.

And I like the way that poison burns like acid,
And wears me away,
And leaves stinging marks on the inside of my cheeks,
From where I bite down hard
To weather the feeling of fire.

But somehow the way that your lips curl,
And a single dimple forms, even when you're fighting the grin,
And the way your eyes crinkle at the corners,
And something in my stomach wavers and drops,

And I couldn't tell you why,
But its so much better than poison.  

May 04

You Will Be Found

Here in the desert bloom,
The windows are down,
The wind blows on the faces of travellers,
The sand rides on the waves of warm air,
You will be free.
Here in the Spanish Sahara,
The grains will collect on the heels of your boots,
The dirt will grind and stain like light soot,
The mid-day greetings are worn favorably,
Lines of hard work drawn on faces like rough sketches,
You will be found.
Here in the mountainous plains,
The clouds clutter towards the horizon,
The trees whisper a song unsung in a choir,
The rocks await your footing on their edges,
The cliffs tower above the treelines,
The jagged pine cascading every inch of the mountain,
The sighs of wind and chirps of birds,
You will be home.
Here in the bleak winter,
Where the storms rage on their everlasting rampage,
The birds have escaped their wraths,

May 02

Spring in New York

Spring in New York

Taken in the Central Park Conservatory Garden, New York City.
May 02
poem 0 comments challenge: Last
Stranger-Person's picture

We are us

This is your last chance
Your time to take a stance
To push the bounds of every box or mold
Create your own ways and grow bold

For we are the ones who you look over
The ones you wordlessly pass
Who won’t subject to the views of society
Who won't bend their way to be given friends

We are the one who broke the box
who are completely unorthodox
Who look completely out of place
Ignoring sideways glances in awkward circumstances
We the ones the one you look at but don't typically see
Who do not live to be accepted
(and) doesn’t care to be rejected
who won't change or be rearranged
the ones who punch conventional thinking in the face

Who started a riot and refused to be quiet
We are the ones who dream of peace
Who won't change their ways
Doesn't care about praise

The ones who won't accept false truths or little lies