Anthology Released!

Support YWP! Order the Anthology! Great present! Great reading. Your purchase helps YWP do its work!
For a copy, send $17.50 (includes postage) and your address to:
Young Writers Project
69 Swift St., Suite 300
South Burlington, VT 05403
If you need an order form, CLICK HERE.
Call 860-0570 with questions. --gg

Upcoming prompts

12. Hunting. Share your favorite hunting stories, or tell how you feel about hunting. Alternate: The Big Loss. Describe a moment in which your team lost and what happened. Deadline: FRIDAY.

Deadline extended: Future of Vermont Challenge. Get published, win cash. Deadline: FRIDAY.

Greg Goedewaagen

The Day

The Day Greg Goedewaagen

The air is flavored with a gentle breeze,
that seems to relieve the shock and greatness of it all.
It’s the day when so many things pay off,
the day when the last few years all of a sudden reach
their boiling point.
And in the climax the sky is but a few sprinkles of blue that have managed
to find their way through the surge of tasseled hats,
that seem to remain suspended in the air for everyone to take in,
for everyone to remember. -- Greg Goedewaagen

WAR

WAR

It is a sadness, war.
Full of things an images,
no human should have to do- have to witness.
It’s a bloody machine, war.
Full of death, tears, that no one,
no human should have to see, feel, spill.

A machine that when used properly,
can destroy the lives, customs, values, and countries
that humans have strived to build for centuries past.

Someone

Someone

Someone to admire,
Someone who walks with my respect,
Someone who may not be here now,
Someone, always trying to show people how.

Someone who believes,
In who he is and what he’s striving for.
Someone who speaks about what he sees,
But someone who’s on another shore.

Someone who’s footsteps,
Someday I will try to follow,

This a Place

This is a Place

By Greg Goedewaagen
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

In the backyard there are many things,
things that are there now,
and things that once were.
Memories of blue and orange slides,
faded from the sun, memories of crawling
beneath a picnic table, or climbing a tree,
just to hide from everyone.

Whooops My Mistake

Whoooops My Mistake

I’ve got a math test tomorrow,
think I’ll blow it off this time.
Think I’d rather play some guitaro,
I know the stuff I’ll do fine.

Well now its three days later,
and I’m gettin my grade,
I’m sweaten with suspense,
my parents will be ashamed.
The teacher comes up to me,
“How’d I do?”
“You did fine.”

A Monster

11/11/07 A MONSTER

Many times, through many days,
their has been something there,
that wont go away.
An although its sometimes gone,
sometimes Im fine,
I know this something is there,
ready to jump from behind.

I do not know why its haunting me,
but it’s a ravenous monster
that seems to feed on loneliness.
I don’t know when it will arrive,

Another World

Greg Goedewaagen Another World
10/24/07

Swaying with the motion,
of the beat of rock n roll.
Gone in caverns of emotion,
from the music of which springs my heart and soul.

And while the sounds of the amplifiers
are echoing in my head,
faces watch, ears listen, minds hopefully think
about the things I am saying, and the things I that have said.

What Happened?

Greg Goedewaagen WHAT HAPPENED?
10/16/07

Who knows whats happening to my life?
It changes everyday.
Feel I’m growing up way to fast,
discovering what life has to say.

Who knows whats happening to our world?
No one really knows for sure.
But I will tell you, we are destroying the planet,
that we once loved before.

Power to Fly

Greg Goedewaagen Power To Fly
10/2/07

Gliding through mountainous clouds,
the cold air leaving rivers of tears flowing from my eyes.
I jump and shout out loud,
I have the power to fly.

Over bottomless oceans,
through snow capped sleeping giants,
save for the steady beat of my feathered wings,
everything is silent.
I jump and shout out loud a freedom cry,

Little Brass Box

Little Brass Box

By Greg Goedewaagen
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

Sun shines through the crudely spaced walls,
casting highlights of gold on a dust carpeted floor.
And while the wind weeps its weary call,
there’s a little brass box that hears no one, sees no one,
for one day and a few more, and back again.

LISTENING TO THE ACKNOWLEDGMENTS OF SEPTEMBER 11TH

Listening to the Acknowledgments of September 11th

By Greg Goedewaagen
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

As fog rises to the sky,
questioning faces rise with it,
while others are comforting others who cry.
And all are wondering the same thing,
all are asking the same question.
How? Why?

And while twisted metal, raging fires,
and falling mountains are remembered,

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