YWP Newsletter -1/13/20
Happy Monday YWP! It's a new week...finally. What a crazy start to 2020 it's been! Well anyway, I hope it settles down a bit more and that everyone's lives become slightly less chaotic. The good news is fun things are always happening at YWP so when your life is feeling like a lot come and join us for some workshops and share more writing with us! Sometimes it can be very therapeutic to just write something even if it's just a rambling string of words. :) Sending good wishes to everyone and inspiration! Have a great week.
THE WEEKLY NEWSLETTER
Here's a description of the newsletter and those involved.
This newsletter highlights writing, audio, images and any happenings in the YWP Community. We are a small band of YWP Community Leaders who also help create Challenges, select Daily Reads, Recommended, and work for Publication. As the editors of the newsletter, our role is to bring you authors extra audience and shine and to bring you readers some special pieces of work. Please pass along this newsletter or the links to the stories to bring the authors even more viewers. Enjoy!
This week's newsletter features work by fire girl, Inkpaw, gaia_lenox, Ice Blink, LadyMidnight, Nightheart, Niña Estrella, Treblemaker, and Jazmine_Juniper.
YWP HAPPENINGS:
The book club continues into January! LadyMidnight's recommended book this month is Saint Anything by Sarah Dessen which she describes as a feel good read for these cold winter days. Check out the book club here!
Congratulations to Sam Aikman (Love to Write) who won the Academy of American Poets' 2020 National Poetry Month Poster Contest for Students! Sam will receive $500 and arts supplies, and she will be featured in the April issue of American Poets magazine. Way to go Sam! Read the news release here.
Come write creative non-fiction with YWP board member and prolific writer Mindy Wong! The workshop is at the Karma Bird House on January 18 from 10am - 11:30am. Sign up and learn more here!
Join in anytime to the YWP playwriting workshop! Lead by YWP creator and journalist Geoff Gevalt and assisted by a few former playwritings from this workshop and some professionals, it is truly a great opportunity to learn how to write a play and maybe have it presented on stage by the VT Young Playwrights! While you can join in whenever, it is advised that you sign up sooner then later as writing a play takes time and plays should be completed by March! Check it out and sign up here.
by gaia_lenox
there's this light
that sits on top of a hill
in a town you've never been to
that casts broken
shadows over houses
you will never call home
and there's a street
made of pavement
and time and
skinned knees
that sections off
lawns made of
grass that cannot
remember the day before
that's where I live
with the ants that
make your legs itch
while you sit
falling in love
with words on a page
and if you watch the light for
long enough
you will forget your own name
and instead tumble
down that same grass
and into a lake made
of each and every promise you
have broken
the general store
is filled with stale coffee
and a man in a worn gray cap
pumping gas
and filling himself up with existential dread
you know its him
by the way the yellow light
turns his face into the night sky
and swallows you whole
before he turns back to
the pavement under his feet
and wonders about
3 am phone calls and the green cast
around your arm
and then you will take the number 13 bus
filled with women covered
in cobwebs and lipstick stains
back to the street
lined with houses you will never
call home
back to light that
turns your name into
a foreign language
back to grass that forgets
and stars the always remember
this is a town called forgotten
and it is a place I will never let you go
(photo credit by Ice Blink)
by Nightheart
the story of my people
is a tragedy, will drip with sadness
like a poets pen,
how could a land of poetry
be anything but a tragedy, where the
sky opens up and pours like a wound
like tears from a mothers face
onto an unmarked grave.
Amrika, the three syllables of their
misfortunes, it tastes like the bitterness of
dark chocolate when the sweet has faded,
sticking to the back of teeth,
i did not know that a string of countries could hold
so much pain, pain that sits in the souls
of every one of us, a gaping hole where hope used to lay,
i watch the news and yet again,
our bleeding hearts are being help up to to the world
like prizes, and i want to tell you,
begone, amreekai, you were never wanted here,
if only white hands could keep to themselves,
but we still find your fingerprints inside the
bodies of our sons who died fighting for our land,
blood staining the ground, and your fingerprints smell like
oil & other peoples money, like
blood deals & broken homes, like
collateral damage & drones, like
'thou shalt not kill' but here we are, like
democracies you broke & land you stole, like
never your land but always your war,
like never your land, but always your war,
like those children who will never unremember the
shaking of the ground & the dark of the basements
& the sound of anti aircraft guns,
tell me, amreekai, did you know that war
spreads like a bruise through generations,
that you have tinged millions of people purple
with your need to be more than you are,
amreekai, you have not seen the soil of
you childhood home tinged red with the blood
of people you knew, amreekai,
give me my tears back, because lately i
have been crying about your almost-crimes,
because of your never-deaths,
because when you make a threat i
can see grandmother home as a pile of rubble,
tell me, amreekai, do you know what it is like
to be afraid, afraid of those dogs who have torn
through nation after nation, to be afraid of them
coming for you at last,
amreekai, you have never fled from a country
that had nothing for you but pain and then
loved it so much that you died from a broken heart,
do not tell me, amreekai, that toppling this government
is good for me when it is a monster that you created,
do you know, amreekai,
what it is like to lose yourself in a sky that
your ancestors split open with their
mustard-gas stained tears, split open
with all of their lives that could have been,
but never were,
tell me how you took away all those lives that we could
have had, all the people that would have been, all
the things that we could have made, with a single sweep of your hand,
amreekai, give us the country we could have had back,
and we will give you the peace you claim to so desperately want.
(photo credit by LadyMidnight)
by Niña Estrella
When you breathe, breathe in happiness
Thoughts of what you could be if there was peace.
Circle your hand in the water
It goes around forever, it breathes with you.
If you rest, let your whole body rest
Lie back into the waves and let them carry you.
This is life. It is yours and it is peaceful.
Blow bubbles into the water
And play with what the world has given you
Like a dolphin splashing through the waves
Nothing ends
At the horizon.
Come back to your roots
The childhood that you once played in
Enjoy that forever.
Feel your toes on the sandy, muddy earth.
Reach out and smile.
You can always come back
To where you once knew what happiness was.
Dive down under the water.
It is there to hold you when you need it.
Breathe always,
Balance carries the world on its shoulders.
Laugh into the wind
It whips your hair and laughs with you.
(photo credit by Inkpaw)
can there be middle case letters? cause like I feel lowercase doesn't emphasize my point enough but UPPER CASE IS TOO MUCH you feel me.
-Treblemaker
I can see the sun through the clouds even when they cover it up
The brilliantly colored birds fly the dark clouds away
And lift me up
So I can see the sun again.
-Jazmine_Juniper
sleep is a friend I have not seen in many years, she packed her bags and the only bags left are the ones under my eyes.
-firegirl
YWP Newsletter -1/1/20
Happy 2020 YWP! I still can't believe that 2020 is actually here. But we all did it! We made it to this new decade! Yay us! :)
2019 was filled with so many exciting things from personal accomplishments to site wide YWP happenings. From some of you joining this community to the CJP launch to the Anthology 10 celebration, I was reminded why I love YWP and enjoy its members (you!) and their writing (yours!) so much. January and February can be dreary months of cold but I hope that you still find inspiration in the world around you and share that here! Have a wonderful start to your New Year!
THE WEEKLY NEWSLETTER
Here's a description of the newsletter and those involved.
This newsletter highlights writing, audio, images and any happenings in the YWP Community. We are a small band of YWP Community Leaders who also help create Challenges, select Daily Reads, Recommended, and work for Publication. As the editors of the newsletter, our role is to bring you authors extra audience and shine and to bring you readers some special pieces of work. Please pass along this newsletter or the links to the stories to bring the authors even more viewers. Enjoy!
This week's newsletter features work by beautiful, Abriatis, Inkpaw, New Leaf, cedar, Marina2020, Ice Blink, Treblemaker and LadyMidnight
YWP HAPPENINGS:
- The book club continues into January! LadyMidnight's recommended book this month is Saint Anything by Sarah Dessen which she describes as a feel good read for these cold winter days. Check out the book club here!
- The playwriting workshop kicks off on January 9 in person at the Karma Bird House (47 Maple Street, Burlington VT) from 5:30 to 7. If you are not able to attend, don't worry! It is not mandatory to participate in the workshop. Check it out and sign up here!
- Come write creative non-fiction with YWP board member and prolific writer Mindy Wong! The workshop is at the Karma Bird House (see address above) on January 18 from 10am - 11:30am. Sign up and learn more here!
by Abriatis
look at me.
i made it.
12/30/19, and I'm still standing
still repairing myself, but still here nonetheless
my foundation is patched,
scaffolding still up
up with people, myself
working to repair cracks and smooth edges
my eyes are slowly opening, slowly opening to the new dawn
to the future, to the fact that i had one
the light is oh-so-dazzling
i am not alone
i can advance
i can redo; i can repeat
this life is mine for the taking
sometimes it gets confusing,
the water, murky, air heavy
but i must push on
cannot allow ice to trap me in inaction
I'm here to see the new dawn, here to witness
the sun coming up into 2020;
a year i cannot quite fathom exists
but
it does. and i do. so I'll be there to see it
alone or with family, I'll see it no matter what.
(photo credit by Inkpaw)
by New Leaf
Ten minutes after midnight,
and I'm sitting in the moonlight.
There's so much that needs changing,
and not enough time in a year.
Where do I begin?
With mending my heart,
or healing my head?
There's just so much.
It's clogging my airway,
closing my throat.
Hiding my eyes,
and shutting down my brain.
Deep, ragged breaths,
the first of a new year.
Ten minutes after midnight.
Only six hundred seconds.
What have I done?
What haven't I done?
I'll take it slow,
this time around.
I've been left behind,
then found and loved once more.
I've fallen to pieces,
and put the puzzle back together.
I've lost, and I've gained.
I haven't moved on,
haven't moved past.
I haven't said my words aloud.
I've yet to take off my camouflage.
Three hundred sixty four days
twenty three hours,
and fifty minutes.
That is all the time I have in a year.
Ten minutes after midnight.
Time's a wasting.
This year, I'll stop waiting.
Who needs permission anyway?
(photo credit by cedar)
by Marina2020
Here's to my second home.
Young Writers Project has helped me become who I am.
Here's to my English teacher who introduced me to YWP.
Here's to the interesting challenges that have sparked my creativity.
Here's to the positive feedback I received that kept me writing.
Here's to all the struggles that pushed me to keep fighting.
Here's to the tiny writes that sparked many conversations.
Here's to all the friends I’ve made through all our creations.
Here's to all my published writing that I never dreamed would be a thing.
Here’s to all the stories I’ve read that are so fascinating.
Here's to all the great photographers and artists that inspire.
Here’s to the people who work there that I admire.
Here's to the excitement I still get every time I write.
Here’s to the community I’d like to wish goodnight.
(photo credit by Ice Blink)
May 2020 be filled with friends family and love.
I am so so thankful for all of you and appreciate every one of your amazing talents and person ness that you bring to this world
May inspiration run through your veins
And may your heart be filled with happiness.
Happy New Year!
-LadyMidnight (12:02am)
Happy New Year everyone!
I'm so glad that I found YWP.
It has been an amazing community,
and I've really felt like me here.
Thank you all so much!
-New Leaf (12:05am)
this year, I ask every one who is reading this, to live, not just physically, but mentally as well, push your knowledge to it's limits, smile, dance, cry, shine in your own unique way! but never give up on yourself, and always have an open mind.
-Inkpaw (12:21am)
the beginning of the decade has official arrived. 2020. oh my goodness what a mile stone!
-Treblemaker (12:22am)
YWP NEWSLETTER - 12.17.19
THE WEEKLY NEWSLETTER
Hey, YWP! Welcome back to the Young Writers Project Newsletter! The very last one of 2019. Wow, this year has really flown by. It's been incredible watching everyone grow as writers and artists, welcoming new members, and grow this wonderful community. You all are such wonderful people.
Here's a description of the newsletter and those involved.
This newsletter highlights writing, audio, images and any happenings in the YWP Community. We are a small band of YWP Community Leaders who also help create Challenges, select Daily Reads, Recommended, and work for Publication. As the editors of the newsletter, our role is to bring you authors extra audience and shine and to bring you readers some special pieces of work. Please pass along this newsletter or the links to the stories to bring the authors even more viewers. Enjoy!
This week we feature the writing and images of knmarcot, beautiful, Inkpaw, flowersinherhair, Ice Blink, gaia_lenox, LadyMidnight, fire girl, k.daigle, and Graceful.
View all previous newsletters here.
(Cover photo credit: knmarcot)
By Inkpaw
colors faded
from the salty sea of my love
for you and only you
will that glass be clear again
green and blue
as the grass and sky
that frame our world
sharp edges smoothed
from the time spent together
spinning stories
of two kids we used to know
white and amber
like the flames of hope
that keep us warm
perfection made for me and you
glass bottles broken
and scattered across the world
this old sea glass to me is more precious
than any diamond or pearl
the broken shards
that turned into love
and hold us together
with their perfect cracks
they bridge the gap
with imperfect beauty
that never fails
to ever stun me.
(Photo credit: beautiful)
by flowersinherhair
We sit there, pulling faces
And groaning at the fact that we
”Don’t have enough gym class”
We seem unable to imagine life without it.
But somewhere out there
Are children to whom gym class is so rare
That it does not come up in their wildest daydreams
Because they can’t go to school.
I shudder at the idea
Of not having my own room
And not having a place to go away to.
But somewhere out there
Are people who have never even dreamed
Of having a house
Because they live on the streets.
I roll my eyes when my parents say
”We’re going for a family walk in our woods now”
I’d much rather just listen to music.
But somewhere out there
Are people who cannot comprehend the notion
Of having their own backyard forest
And who would do anything
ANYTHING
To see their families again.
When I was little
I didn’t understand how privileged I am.
Some people would do whatever it takes
To send their children to a private school
And to always have enough to eat.
When I meet people like this
I try to smile in sympathy
Try to say that I get it
But I can see the looks on their faces
We both know that really
I don’t understand at all.
(Art credit: Ice Blink)
By gaia_lenox
sometimes I breathe in
and forget to breathe out
again
do you remember the night
the sun never set
we caught it
and held it in our hands
and woke up tasting honey
we danced until
the strings in our shoes
turned to nothing
and then fell into
the open arms of
summer dreams
you told me I had hair of gold
and you of silver
before you wove flowers
made of hope into
my heart
and pushed me off
every cliff we found
over and over
trying to show me
that I don’t have to be
scared of falling
that I won’t always
fly
sometimes I still
dream of mint and chamomile
and falling out of hammocks
and laughing as
we turn sugar sweet and
dive head first into
lakes filled with sunsets and
brief goodbyes
we stood out on the beach
and buried our toes and our worries
in sand
and stood in ice cold waves until
we forgot our names
and we wondered about
love and pineapples and
if the crabs that
dug beneath our feet
got lonely
and now we write each other's
names in books we will never
see again
and wish
on suns that went dim
before time took its first breath
and hoped that
holding the sun in our
palms wouldn’t start to burn
so we shoved it into our chests
and held the pieces in our hearts
and now you’re 3,665 miles
away
speaking words I can’t pronounce
and I was supposed to be
there for you when you were falling through
rabbit holes
but instead i am falling too
but in the opposite direction
I have 5,110
strings tied from my heart to yours
and sometimes when you break down
they tug
and now I don't know what to say
because you're the one who is made
of concrete and titanium
the one who glues me back together
when I throw myself
at brick walls
and now the girl with
constalations on her cheeks
is making you crack
and we don't breathe as
easy because the sun in our chest burned away our wonder
and now we worry about every
peice of plastic clogging the ocean
and bullets jumping from guns
6,000 miles away
and I want to go back to the day
when you told me to stop crying
as you held my heart together
and blood poured from my arm
so I do
and fall back into what sunshine looked like
in 2009
(Photo credit: LadyMidnight)
You cannot breathe in space, so let's be sure there is no space between us.
-fire girl
I am waiting, waiting, waiting,
waiting for this life to begin.
This life is moving, moving, moving,
too fast my head is starting to spin.
-k.daigle
The hardest thing to pull away from is the way your mind thinks.
-Graceful
YWP Community Leader Newsletter - 11.4.2019
Motion By Love to Write
If I'm being honest, November is probably my least favorite month. The color is gone from the leaves, the flowers, the fruits...pretty much everything outside is brown. As one of many writers that absorb inspiration from nature, my creativity at this time of year can feel a bit...murky. In November, it can be easy to slip into an apathetic waiting; for the holidays, for snow, for the light to come back (please!), which is exactly why I'm excited to be doing the newsletter this month! This November, I'm going to challenge myself to keep the spark of creativity alight, and what better way than to read some of the incredible work which this community creates, sun or storm. November marks a time of transition - of longer evenings and a growing appreciation of sun and warmth; a time to keep moving forward, and find the beauty in a month so often taken for granted. Let's start this transiton with poems and art that capture an array of movement and change. Luminous, pensive, tempestuous - all are beautiful.
As usual, the following is an intro to the YWP newsletter. Feel free to skip ahead if you're a regular.
Welcome to the YWP newsletter: curated and created by a team of Community Leaders, who, along with many others, recommend work for publication, create challenges, give feedback, and do some writing of our own! This newsletter is a highlight of our favorite works from the past two weeks. We aim for variety to reflect and engage that of the many writers, artists, photographers, and musicians of YWP. We, as the editors, hope to give these creators a wider audience and provide our busy members a taste of recent pieces we loved. We hope you become a returning reader! Check out the other newsletters here and share the link with people you know who may enjoy it.
Contributors to this issue: annadauerman, cedar, Dramtic456, gaia_lenox, 15hensandarooster, Inkpaw, knmarcot, Love to Write, Marina2020
Stars
They are stars, glowing from afar on a dimly lit stage
Creating constellations, weaving a story of old
Rolling across the sky to reach for another
To hold each other
To lift each other
To become one with each other
If dance is the ink this story is written in
Then emotion is the pages it is written on
The underlying aspect that holds everything together
Arguments are held
Love confessions are made
Difficult times are powered through
And all without the use of a single word
With sharp turns
And dramatic gestures
And emphatic expressions
A language that transcends the rest
Every action is matched with another
Though not every action tells the same story
A lift of the arms can mean angry defiance
Or wholehearted acceptance
And every move is choreographed to synchronized perfection
By these experts in their craft
Who use every part of their bodies
Faces, arms, wheelchairs
To tell the story in a truly unique way
They are liquid puzzle pieces
Fitting and flowing together
Until you can barely see the edges
The music that guides them assists where words cannot
Swells for triumph and reconnection
Corrupted, jerky notes for panic
Thin, drawn-out pieces for tension
Placing a golden frame around an already beautiful painting
A painting of Venus and Andromeda
Arms tight around each other
In their descent
(Art credit: Inkpaw)
I can't wait for winter,
for the time when I wake up
and I hear my Mom tell me
that it's a snow day,
when I can charge down the hallway,
and practically slam down
my sister's door.
"Wanna cross-country ski?"
But, I'm just wondering
which winter will be our last
good year of skiing?
Which will be the year,
where by the time that we
wake up the snow will be slushy?
I'm just wondering
if I have a kid, whether or not
they will be able to learn
to cross-country ski in the same
backyard that I learned from.
The backyard that I grew up
watching my sisters sled down hills,
make paths to ski on,
and making forts in the snow.
I'm just wondering
how it'll feel when I have kids,
the moment when they
look me straight in my eyes
and ask me whatever happened
to the beautiful woods.
I'm just wondering
why isn't there a mandatory
class about what is happening
to our earth because
of human impact?
I'm just wondering
why there aren't rules and laws
to protect our earth from
the major destruction
we've caused.
My biggest question is,
what if there isn't an answer.
What if there is too much
carbon dioxide already
contained in our earth?
I'm just wondering what you think
I'm supposed to tell the generation
that comes after me?
That I didn't do anything to help?
I don't think so.
But, I'm just wondering.
(Photo credit: knmarcot)
Last night I fell asleep listening to the
rain hit my window
the wind blew so hard
that the house tipped over
and I slept on the walls
the heavy drops shattered the glass panes
and filled up my room
with their seeds of change
and new ideas
so I closed my eyes and
pretended the world
was not so backwards
once someone asked me
how I fell in love with lightning
why I sat at my window every night
wishing for the sky to break in half
I never told them the answer
instead I broke all the glass in my house
hoping without mirrors I wouldn’t have to worry
sometimes I dream of far away places
but with the storm beyond the glass
I dream of nothing at all
instead I wonder
if lightning ever gets self conscious
about how loud she is
I wonder if she wishes she was a sunflower
beautiful and quiet
she shatters the world in half
and opens up the sky
so I can see all the stars
I never told you how I feel like lightening
how I feel like sometimes I take up too much space
I never told you
how I love sunflowers
because I wish I could be them
I never told you
how I sing words to the stars
wishing I could sprout wings and fly
but I am the daughter of Icarus
I was not made to fly
I was made to break in half
and pour words into different colors vases
and then throw them at brick walls
just to see what happens
I tumble backwards through time
digging through the thousands of beautiful faces
to find myself
All my freckles have changed
so has my heart
I am no longer made of soft fabric and silk strings
I am made of crumpled paper
and pencil shavings and blue sky
I am made of the boy
with the square windowpanes
that keep his world from tipping over
and who smells like rain
I am made of sandboxes
and love for the ocean
I am made of a thousand different books and
nervous breaths and
carnivorous butterflies and
everything is going to be fine
Because I am the daughter of Icarus
and the walls are a good place to sleep
(Photo credit: Marina2020)
YWP Newsletter 10/21/19
Almost November... wow. There's snow on some of the mountains in Vermont already. I'm not sure I'm ready for winter yet!
Fall is a very poetic time, the natural world is so vivid this time of year and the cool temperatures are perfect for favorite sweaters and woodstoves and tea. It's a pain to have homework when all I want to do is write and explore the forest. Submit all of your fall (and otherwise inspired) work to YWP! We all love to read it.
As usual, the following is an intro to the YWP newsletter. Feel free to skip ahead if you're a regular.
Welcome to the YWP newsletter: curated and created by a team of Community Leaders, who, along with many others, recommend work for publication, create challenges, give feedback, and do some writing of our own! This newsletter is a highlight of our favorite works from the past two weeks. We aim for variety to reflect and engage that of the many writers, artists, photographers, and musicians of YWP. We, as the editors, hope to give these creators a wider audience and provide our busy members a taste of recent pieces we loved. Please become a returning reader! Check out the other newsletters here and share the link with people you know who may enjoy it.
Contributors to this week's newsletter are: shadowpaw, fire girl, cedar, LadyMidnight, Graceful, and Dramatic456.
by fire girl
Colors split ways and tumble among trees.
Spilling their poetry onto the frosty ground.
Their words dance on the wind,
twirling and finally coming to cover the bare ground.
Puddles of poetry, don't step in it.
It is the breath of time, passing clouds whisper of the trees'
scandalous stripping as they make their way across the day.
Light leaves us in a flurry of cold we savor this time of year.
I smell it just as rain smells, purifying, and quenching the
the parched tongue of sunshine, the trees are very generous
giving their coats and scarves to cover Earth instead,
she is thankful and gives them back in spring.
Sometimes I wonder who you are
and who I would be if you were not.
Photo by cedar
by LadyMidnight
cracked stone, boiling blood
water won't burn me from your hands
you never see me
I'm frozen in time
a world like a cold marble
sky is parched by clouds
somehow I'm still here
but the worlds clock is ticking
somewhere there's someone
Construction paper
rockets shatter the thick glass
a soundless indent
tell me your false lies
what's this thing that you call love?
blink and you'll miss it.
be lonely with me
I won't shrink into myself
outward expansion
don't laugh at silence
tears trickle down their stone mask
ink is a loud cry
Photo by Graceful
by Dramatic456
Your cheap red nail polish leaves streaks on the paper we pass back and forth
Two different styles of handwriting, fitting together perfectly
A type of poetry, though I misspell every other word
And your grammar is atrocious
We talk about anything and everything
Except, of course, for the classwork we’re supposed to be doing
We talk about sports, and how I hope you’ll come to my game next week
We talk about the school play, and what parts you’ll try out for
And how I know you’ll get the lead role
We talk about the school dance, and how
For a few hours
I let the weight of the world fall off my shoulders
And how you saw, and pulled me into the center of the circle
A smile on your face and a laugh on your lips
But you want to talk about the boys
Which ones noticed you, which ones danced with you
And which ones were dying to talk to you but too shy to approach
I was too busy staring at you to notice a single one of them
Photo by shadowpaw
YWP Newsletter 10/6/19
Hello YWP and welcome to the first of the October newsletters. First of all, congratulations to all of the YWPers who were published in this year's anthology! The celebration this past weekend was incredible and it was inspiring to hear people perform their work.
Secondly, fall. It always amazes me how extrodinary the fall foliage is and how graceful the change from hot summer to chilly fall comes about. In my house it's a celebrated milestone when we pull out the fall sweaters and socks.
As usual, the following is an intro to the YWP newsletter. Feel free to skip ahead if you're a regular.
Welcome to the YWP newsletter, curated and created by a team of Community Leaders, who, along with many others, recommend work for publication, create challenges, give feedback, and do some writing of our own! This newsletter is a highlight of our favorite works from the past two weeks. We aim for variety to reflect and engage that of the many writers, artists, photographers, and musiscians of YWP. We, as the editors, hope to give these creators a wider audience and provide our busy members a taste of recent pieces we loved. Please become a returning reader! Check out the other newsletters here and share the link with people you know who may enjoy it.
Contributers to this week's newsletter are: LadyMidnight, It's the cat, lemondaydreams, shadowpaw, haileychase, Graceful, and Dramatic456
by It's the cat
When I first met you,
You hid behind your dad.
I stood in front of my mom,
And we stared at eachother.
Flash forward a month or so,
And we're in my bedroom,
Playing with my dollhouse and kicking all the dolls out so the animals could live there instead.
For the next three years,
Making up different imaginary games,
All so complex we forgot half of it before we started actually playing.
We would drive your older brother crazy,
And pull pranks on his friends.
Do you remember our prank war?
I do.
We would dress up in dresses that were way to big,
Or take down all the curtains in the house (much to my mom's frustration)
Just so we could play goddes girls and wear chitons.
But we pronounced them shitons. (Mentally laughing at that)
We would make really random videos about nothing in particular.
And find them funny for no good reason.
We would get into huge fights about who got to be Anna and who got to be Elsa, Who got to be the big sister and who got to be the baby.
And it was everything to us.
We saw eachother literally everyday.
I'm not even kidding.
You would help me with my spelling and I would help you with your math.
And we both loved to dance and sing,
But were just as happy to sit on the couch and do nothing.
And our favorite snack was apples and cheese,
And our favorite meal was mac and cheese.
Why am I writing all this?
So I remember.
Because then I moved away.
And we saw eachother less and less.
And we grew up apart.
And now your a sporty girl who desprately tries to be popular,
But at the same time wants to be origanal and doesn't care about boys at all.
Who still tries to dress up your cat.
And I have become a semi gothic, theatre fanatic, who doesn't like to excersize,
Unless it's dancing.
Who is original and popular and has a boyfriend she talks about way to much.
And you don't like dance anymore.
And all we do when we hang out is watch youtube.
And I haven't seem you for months.
But looking through boxes of random stuff in my room recently,
I found all my animals that we used to play with.
A card you sent me when you went away for more than forty eight hours.
The dolls we used to have fashion shows with.
The pictures and videos we took.
And all the dresses that don't fit us anymore.
And now we're both teenagers.
And we met when we were eight.
So we're drifting apart,
And it's really sad.
But I have a new best friend,
And so do you.
And we don't invite eachother to our birthday parties anymore.
So I guess this is goodbye.
A goodbye you'll never see.
Goodbye my best friend for longer than I've ever had one,
My twin who's name also starts with a G,
Goodbye.
Photo credit: lemondaydreams
by shadowpaw
dark purple is the color of secrets
and stories whispered by candlelight
dark purple was the color of our friendship
before I left
dark purple is the color of forgotten dreams
and sleepless nights spent tossing around in bed
dark purple is the color of lost memories
and dark bruises you cant recall getting
dark purple is missing what you had
long after you lost it
dark purple is the color of the world before the sun rises
still shrouded in mystery and blanketed in stars
dark purple is a heart full of regret
and a mind full of dreams.
Photo credit: shadowpaw
by haileychase
I dangle my feet off the wood dock,
my body warm from the sun.
The sun forms stars on the top of the lake,
flat and untouched by anyone.
The sun feeds the trees,
and invites the birds to sing.
The air is still, perfect, silent,
no phone around to ring.
A dragonfly passes my side,
it says hello and resumes its day.
I smile at its presence,
then watch it fly away.
The sky is bright blue sapphire,
laced with frosted white clouds.
The world is transparent and simple,
unharmed by the crowds.
Photo credit: Graceful
Tiny Write:
Is there a word for the type of love you’re not sure if you ever felt?
-Dramatic456
(the comments on this one are great)
YWP Newsletter -9/9/19
Happy Monday everyone! I hope you haven't had too much homework over the weekend. Teachers always tend to get a little enthusiastic about giving out assignments right after summer break.
Recently I found a good quote from spiritual author turned political candidate Marianne Williamson that I thought you might like to keep in mind over the next week as school keeps coming.
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us."
YWP News:
- The Community Journalism Project is here! Thanks to the grant that YWP received, there will be a lot of new challenges and ideas to help get you out in your community. Check out this special issue of the Voice for more information!
- The Writing on the Roof series is continuing! The first one this school year is the Listen Up project. Bess O'Brien is traveling Vermont looking for young adults to help her write a musical about being a teenager! I would highly suggest attending. It is on September 14 from 10 to noon at the Karma Bird House in Burlington.
- As part of the Voices for Change program, Hazel Civalier and Sophie Dauerman will be hosting a Soundcheck about Climate Justice at Burlington City Arts on the 19th of September from 6-8 pm. This is in preparation for the September 20 Global Climate Strike.
- Check out the new weekly writing challenges from YWP!
- The 2019-2020 Community Leader list has been announced! Check it out here.
- Come to the Anthology 10 celebration on October 6! It is a great event full of wonderful writing and friends. If you plan on coming, please RSVP!
- On September 24, make sure to stop by American Flatbread in Burlington VT for a benefit bake for YWP!
As usual, regulars can feel free to skip the intro.
Welcome to the YWP Newsletter! These weekly newsletters are curated and created by a team of Community Leaders, who, along with many others, recommend work for publication, create challenges, give feedback, and do some writing of our own! This newsletter is a highlight of our favorite work from each week, creative, insightful, entertaining, sometimes focusing on a certain theme... we aim for variety in our collection each week to reflect and engage that of the many writers, artists, photographers and musicians of YWP. We, as the editors, hope to give the creators of YWP a wider audience, provide the busy members a taste of each week's pieces, and share some that we particularly loved with you. Please become a returning reader: check out the other newsletters, and share the link with many others who may enjoy it!
This week's featured authors and photographers are Abriatis, PeachesMalone, firegirl, Leah.W, irishjayne, Treblemaker, k.daigle, Emalie Rosamae and firegirl
By PeachesMalone
Young Writers Project is
Itself
A spell
Cast by people
With beautiful sentences
Shards of paragraphs
Revolving under a chandelier
Inside their heads
A spell
That lasts
As long as you want it to
Young Writers Project is
A night sky
Unblemished
Utterly perfected
Sculpted by words
And love
Love for human mistakes
And potential
Lovely ideas
And lovely people
Young Writers Project
Is a miracle
That we don't always appreciate
Young Writers Project is
Something
You wish you could hold
Like a pet you can cradle
In your arms
Keeping you warm
And listening
Whenever you have something to say
Young Writers Project is
Forever
Infinite
Perfect
By firegirl
Freedom has no color,
Rights own no gender,
Respect sees no age
and love knows no religion.
A perfect world.
a one we can work to,
the one that’s at the
back of everyone’s minds.
a Noticeable Fact:
all of a person’s heart
can win over hatred.
Love is a tangled garden
reaching for the stars.
The stars know no hate.
why not us?
Beauty.
The heat of a heart,
so hot sometimes it burns,
a passion deep inside you
from a holy place.
You are a feather.
A flimsy piece of cloth
blowing away on the wind.
Washing away in the current of life.
Gently warm the pieces of your heart,
no, put them in the coals.
Let them catch fire.
A flame possesses no fear of no or hate.
and what of Death?
Death has no color,
Death knows no sex or religion,
no age, wealth or ability.
I know what we are.
A rainbow.
a spectrum of color
spilling over the world.
There is no “bad” color,
no “wrong” sex or “hateful” faith.
But freedom...
Freedom is my religion.
(photo credit by Leah W.)
By Treblemaker
can you please hear more quietly
can you taste with no spice.
can you please hear my smell
can you lie down upright?
I don't ask for much,
just taste all around
breath in all the noise
and talk without sound.
can you smell all the colors
and see without sight
just hear when its quite
and touch the sunlight
please stand up while sitting
bend down while upright
can you switch right and left
and then shrink to new hight.
Of course you can! You know I am right...
now look without seeing, and lie down upright.
(photo credit by irishjayne)
It still blows my mind that the 2010's will be over in three months.
-k.daigle
I just got a puppy, her name is Maple, she says hello
-Emalie Rosamae
“When the whole world is silent, even one voice becomes powerful.”
- Malala Yousafzai
-firegirl
YWP Newsletter -9/2/19
Hello everyone! I hope that you have all had a great summer! Though school has started for many of us, keep in mind that there will be a lot of new and exciting things on YWP this fall! Enjoy the warmth while it lasts and have a great start to your school year!
YWP News:
- The Community Journalism Project is starting! Thanks to the grant that YWP received, there will be a lot of new challenges and ideas to help get you out in your community. Check out this special issue of the Voice for more information!
- The Writing on the Rooftop series is continuing! The first one this school year is the Listen Up project. Bess O'Brien is traveling Vermont looking for young adults to help her write a musical about being a teenager! I would highly suggest attending. It is on September 14 from 10 to noon at the Karma Bird House in Burlington.
- As part of the Voices for Change program, Hazel Civalier and Sophie Dauerman will be hosting a Soundcheck about Climate Justice at Burlington City Arts on the 19 of September from 6-8 pm. This is in preparation of the September 20 Global Climate Strike.
- Check out the new weekly writing challenges from YWP!
- The 2019-2020 Community Leader list has been announced! Check it out here.
As usual, regulars can feel free to skip the intro.
Welcome to the YWP Newsletter! These weekly newsletters are curated and created by a team of Community Leaders, who, along with many others, recommend work for publication, create challenges, give feedback, and do some writing of our own! This newsletter is a highlight of our favorite work from each week, creative, insightful, entertaining, sometimes focusing on a certain theme... we aim for variety in our collection each week to reflect and engage that of the many writers, artists, photographers and musicians of YWP. We, as the editors, hope to give the creators of YWP a wider audience, provide the busy members a taste of each week's pieces, and share some that we particularly loved with you. Please become a returning reader: check out the other newsletters, and share the link with many others who may enjoy it!
This week's featured authors and photographers are Dancer, dogpoet, Icarus Blackmore, firegirl, Graceful, Abriatis, Marina2020 and The-Unknown-Poet
By dogpoet
When you
Divide the mile you need to walk
By the number of times you’ll take breath
And move forward that one step
You’ll get a lot
A daunting number that is not
Encouraging you to walk.
But when you divide your mile by a lot
You’ll get that one step
That you need to take to walk.
(photo credit by Icarus Blackmore)
By firegirl
The sky is a painting our
eyes adjust to every morning.
Sometimes we fight all night.
but the stars turn theirs back and
watch spiteful and dead.
the rain can try and bring us back
together but it will last for only a moment.
our waters are slowly poisoned,
our trees burning,
our land spoiled.
the sky will try and please us,
in hopes that we will spare it.
but breathers are very hard to please.
still the sky does its best.
sometimes picnic in the meadow,
sometimes hide under blankets.
we fall, our bodies broken.
no stars to reignite our fire.
our bodies settle
yours upon mine,
mine upon the millions of
droplets.
each a poem made
and forgotten.
breathed once
and left out in the rain.
(photo credit by Graceful)
By Abriatis
lingering scent of chamomile
washing over everything, a gentle wave
goodbye
a sip of tea
warming the mouth,
the soul
rocking of the chair
back and forth, back and forth
again
shooting stars up above
a careful wish, a quiet
plea
to who-knows-what,
for who-knows-what, but
a wish nonetheless.
(photo credit by Marina2020)
Everything is new
New location
New faces
New air
I think I like it
-Marina2020
I want to write, I swear I do. But I can't. I think I'm facing down writer's block. Again...
-The-Unknown-Poet
YWP Newsletter -6/24/19
Happy Summer YWP! I am really excited that summer has arrived because it's my favorite season but also because it has been a crazy winter/spring! I'm happy that the world has waken up and the days are warm and sunny. Speaking of summer, this week has some of my favorite June national holidays! National Pralines Day, National Strawberry Parfait day and National Ice Cream Cake day are all coming up this week. Mmmm... Anyway, I hope you enjoy this week's newsletter and have a wonderful week full of love, laughter and joy!
YWP Happenings:
Read the June issue of the Voice!
Write using the prompts from the Summer of Stories contest!
Contribute to sophie d.'s Good Thoughts project!
Sign up to write with Jennifer Cohen at her Vermont Commons based writing workshop!
As usual, regulars can feel free to skip the intro.
Welcome to the YWP Newsletter! These weekly newsletters are curated and created by a team of Community Leaders, who, along with many others, recommend work for publication, create challenges, give feedback, and do some writing of our own! This newsletter is a highlight of our favorite work from each week, creative, insightful, entertaining, sometimes focusing on a certain theme... we aim for variety in our collection each week to reflect and engage that of the many writers, artists, photographers and musicians of YWP. We, as the editors, hope to give the creators of YWP a wider audience, provide the busy members a taste of each week's pieces, and share some that we particularly loved with you. Please become a returning reader: check out the other newsletters, and share the link with many others who may enjoy it!
This week's featured authors and photographers are lia.chien, Love to Write, LadyMidnight, fire girl, lila woodward, shenneljolly, Abriatis, futurefemalepitcher and k.diagle
(Photo credit by lia.chien)
By Love to Write
This morning the sun,
beyond the birch grove,
ripened like a summer peach.
The river rushed to the ocean.
My body was a core of closet dust.
This morning dark stones on a ledge
descended in handfuls:
slipping into each other,
tumbling like an uptight crowd.
His gaze drops like a feather
to the wilted corner of the vacant bedroom
where a pile of ruffled notebooks
sit slouched, untouched
in over a year.
You promise yourself
not to be static,
not to get stuck,
not to be a moon for someone
else's planet.
The boy behind the blue cash register
at the corner store accidentally
circles you in his sleep.
When you were younger
you revolved around a model
of Pluto, downsized
and jammed into a jar.
Usually, bookshelves
hold people adept to looping
the lip
of sink drains and kissing
Icarus goodbye before leaving
the house in a rainstorm.
This morning I found the boy
from the corner store
with his hand on the nape
of his neck,
holding words like dirt
under his nails,
searching for some kind of delicate love
I didn't know the name for.
(Photo credit by LadyMidnight)
By fire girl
the child closest to you
will change
the world.
life
as we know it
will turn into a dream we
once had and fade like history.
the rain clouds sing.
a pattering song about
the sky.
you watch them.
in this world, you lost.
purely by paying them notice.
decide whether you feel in your chest
the beat you hear through
the rain.
the subtext in your heart.
as if all is right and made of beauty.
the rain calls you
and if you could fly,
you would follow.
and you can't tell when I'm lying,
because you've believed me this far.
(Photo credit by lia.chien)
By lila woodward
my heart sunk
when she told me to
calm down
because
funny enough
freaking out used
to be our thing
over small things
big things
anything.
we were the good ones
the ones untouched by the outer world. the ones with
kind souls
and lawful lips
but now those lips are sealed tight
around a brown
glass bottle
and i am being told to
calm down.
everyone does it.
i’m a city girl now.
calm down, i am told.
funny enough
calming her down
to be my thing
i was the less-anxious-but-still-very-anxious-one.
i would calm her down
over small things.
big things
anything.
push and pull
used to be our thing
but now i think i pull and
she runs away.
(Photo credit by Abriatis)
hey! we’re all writers on here XD cool
-shenneljolly
The older I get, the more I wish for days
where nothing mattered except
watching Spongebob and
what color popsicle I wanted.
Now life is just....
boring adult stuff.
-k.diagle
What is a strawberry?
A fruit.
What is a fruit?
A food.
What is food?
Nourishment.
What is nourishment?
Something to keep us alive.
Everything is to keep us alive.
-futurefemalepitcher
YWP Newsletter -6/17/19
Hello everyone! I am so happy that summer is finally in full swing. Every day is warm and the sun is beautiful! For this week's newsletter, I chose a variety of pieces that made me stop in my tracks and read them over and over again. I hope you will enjoy them as much as I did. Also, congratulations to the administrators of YWP for receiving a national grant! We all thank you for what you have done for us and our work. On a final note, please keep writing and especially keep taking photos. It makes these newsletters and other featured publications all the better! Have a great day :)
YWP Happenings:
Read the June issue of the Voice!
Write using the prompts from the Summer of Stories contest!
Contribute to sophie d.'s Good Thoughts project!
Sign up to write with Jennifer Cohen at her Vermont Commons based writing workshop!
As usual, regulars can feel free to skip the intro.
Welcome to the YWP Newsletter! These weekly newsletters are curated and created by a team of Community Leaders, who, along with many others, recommend work for publication, create challenges, give feedback, and do some writing of our own! This newsletter is a highlight of our favorite work from each week, creative, insightful, entertaining, sometimes focusing on a certain theme... we aim for variety in our collection each week to reflect and engage that of the many writers, artists, photographers and musicians of YWP. We, as the editors, hope to give the creators of YWP a wider audience, provide the busy members a taste of each week's pieces, and share some that we particularly loved with you. Please become a returning reader: check out the other newsletters, and share the link with many others who may enjoy it!
This week's featured authors and photographers are Graceful, abrieart, Nightheart, Emily Van Dyke, Icestorm, Roses and Summer, little elephants, and Leah W.
(Photo credit above by Graceful)
by Emily Van Dyke
You're 15, scared at a family reunion,
mustering the courage to tell.
It's noon and your plan was to have already told
them what your lips have been dying to say.
Your grandmother and uncle question you on what you've
“learned” in school, but you zone out the moment you start to watch their lips.
Your grandmother steps closer to your white shirt,
jean pants, and pin.
She realigns her eyes to the picture, on the thin metal piece of jewelry
“...a rainbow...” you look into her eyes trying to pry out the words she's about to speak.
“Why a rainbow, does it mean anything?”
You look down as your chest concaves to pressure.
“No,”
you say as you feel your head plummet to what feels like past your knees.
Your heart - your lungs - your knees themselves, so weak.
You’re so mad, you want to tell them about your girlfriend
and how happy she makes you.
But how can you tell them,
when their eyes are so sharp?
Sharper than glass.
Sharper than blades.
(Photo credit by abrieart)
by Graceful
Look up little girl,
See those stars?
They are your future.
Even if the earth wobbles
They will always stand still and strong above you.
Look up little girl,
Don’t look down
That is our past,
We humans have not done our best,
But your generation will change the future.
Look up little girl,
The sky holds the possibilities
The ground is only your cracked base
You have nothing to worry about
So just believe you can save us.
Look up little girl,
Don’t look sad,
Remember those stars?
They will always be there lighting up the night sky.
(photo credit by Graceful)
by Nightheart
it was the most
beautiful shade of
blue,
the flag that
was imprinted on her skin,
right next to her eyes
that shone brown.
and then the
king that had thrown
a revolution of hate
decided that he didn't like the fact
that she wore it so beautifully.
This is the story of
a people's rebellion.
rebellion.
Once upon a time,
the king went throughout the kingdom
and ripped it off people,
one by one,
when he decided that they didn't fit
with what he thought was right.
he looked at the people
whose flags where still slowly
being drawn on,
who had chosen it out of love
or come here out of desperation
and decided that the way that they
clashed a little with the other colors
against their skin was
and abomination and he tore
the newly growing things off.
he looked at the people
whose flags melded with their
deep rich skin and decided
he didn't like how beautiful they looked
in spite of all the pain it had taken
for their flags to paint across their skin
and dumped bleach over
each and every one of them.
he looked at the people
that had the rainbow colors mixed in
with their stars and stripes
and decided that he like it better
when everything was black and white
and we couldn't see the rainbow,
when people were hidden
in secret instead of proud
and he tried to repaint them
and force them to let the rainbow
out of their skin.
he looked at the people
that wore their flags in all different
shapes and sizes and decided
he didn't like that they lived outside
of the stereotypes so he tried
to force their flags into tiny dresses
so he could reach down them easier.
but he didn't remember
that the people had a will
of their own.
that the flag had a will
of it's own, and it was tired
of being drawn on only
one type of person,
one type of body,
the flag was tired of being
wrapped and used as a means
to justify anything.
so when he tried to rip off
the still growing flags of the
immigrants and the refugees
they turned around
and looked him in the eye
and shouted him down in all the
different languages that they
had grown up with,
and their flags melded to their skin
a little tighter.
when he dumped bleach
all over their skin,
he watched in shock as
nothing happened,
because he forgot over the course
of their lives they had tried
so many times to wipe their skin off,
and it never worked,
because this skin was strong,
it was beautiful,
and their flags grew a little
brighter.
when he tried to make everything
black and white again,
it didn't work, because what he
didn't realize was that the rainbow
weaving through their veins was
never a choice,
it defied any that tried to force
it into their definition of normal,
and the rainbow and the flag
weaved a little tighter together.
when he tried to smooth his
hands over the dresses he'd made,
he found that the flag had reformed
itself and was whatever the
women wanted it to be so he fled
in terror as they chased after him
because after decades of smothering
and choking under expectations,
the women wanted to be free,
and the flag wrapped around them
in whatever they wanted it to be.
and the people crowded around him,
their flags brighter than ever,
and they told him that this flag never
belonged to him,
never his right to decide who it was worthy
of or not,
and the people
revolted.
(photo credit by Icestorm)
Below are a few of the beautiful and insightful responses to one of the Summer of Stories challenges, Haiku-form!
Apple tree blossoms,
Growing with each spring shower,
Will become sweet fruit.
-Leah W.
It dives out of the hole.
The bird will return with worms.
Intrigued, I watch.
-Roses and Summer
Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick
I think my clock is broken
Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock
-little elephants