Spring: Writing Contest


Pile of books painting

Spring: Writing Contest


In poetry, prose, fiction or nonfiction, submit one or several of your best creations! What inspires you? What stories do you want to tell? You choose the theme and the genre. Scroll down to enter the contest!

[Art credit: "Growing Knowledge" by Ruth Petit, YWP]


  • Awards: Gold ($100), Silver ($75), and Bronze ($50) in each of two categories – Writing and Visual Art
  • For ages 12-18. You must have a YWP account. (It’s free to join, and the contest is free!)
  • Scroll to the bottom of this post to respond to the contest challenge in the genre of your choice
  • Must be your original work, not published elsewhere – and not AI!
  • No limit to number of submissions in both categories
  • Deadline: April 15, 2024
  • Prize winners and honorable mentions will be published in the May issue of our digital magazine, The Voice.

Return to Contest Announcement

Respond to Visual Art Contest


  • Before


    we wake,

    we are huddled under


    and dreaming.



    we wake

    there are others







  • Tarnished Silver

    Intricately designed silverware sat at a long table

    Carefully placed next to ornate porcelain china 

    Silver goblets so shiny you could use them as a silvery mirror

  • stop. drop. roll.


    stop running.

    stop worrying.

    stop everything.


    drop to the ground.

    drop your possessions.

    drop everything.


    roll anyway from the fire.

    roll away from your fears.

  • Red Clover

    I dream of him less than I used to - 

    But our story always starts the same.

    I am small, and his oil stained hands hold me like the Red Clover;

    So tightly that I think he’ll never let me go.


    Shouldn't I be enough,

    just myself,

    nothing more,

    nothing less.

    All I want them to understand.

    Shouldn't you be enough,

    just yourself,

    nothing more,

    nothing less.

    Just two girls,

  • run away

    your love was too much for me

    all i saw was a blazing fire

    a heart so completely mine

    a mind so deeply in awe of my own

    i ran away

    i'm not used to being called beautiful

  • Break-Out.

    There’s no escaping. I'm alone..yet again. No one's here it's pure silence the room is cold, my fingertips are too. There's no escaping this state of mind, it comes around every month creeping on me and I can't break free.

  • Speed

    Whooshing wind, I can hear it.

    Butterflies from the inside, I can feel them.

    The brink of death, I can taste it.

    Pushing faster, Will it be enough?


  • Time


    Opening your eyes,

    Seeing the world.


    Feeling your feet,

    On the cold wooden floor


    The big building hold information,

    Books, Math and intelligent adults.