YWP Newsletter - 4/19/20
THE YWP COMMUNITY NEWSLETTER
Sometimes it's hard to write a unifying summary of events that have taken place since the last Newsletter. Not today. There's one thing on our minds, and I bet you can guess what it is. In some ways, it's depressing. It's repetitive and got old really quickly. Some of the featured writing reflects that. But the writing also reflects postive outcomes of quarantine: new hobbies, undiscovered talents. Everyone's experiencing the pandemic differently. YWP is a great outlet for your thoughts and feelings regarding COVID-19. But it's here to support you, too. Bored? Check Tiny Writes to answer some fun this or that questions posted. Write a post. Comment support for another artist. Most importantly, stay safe, healthy, and happy, YWP. :)
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 and artists 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: Crescent_Moon, nean_bean, laurenm, amaryllis, Treblemaker, beautiful, Inkpaw, and charvermont.
YWP HAPPENINGS:
Enter the "Fair Housing Month" writing contest by Friday, April 24 to win publication and prizes! Here for more info.
Check out eyesofIris's new podcast Line Break here!
Pick up a book for the YWP Book Club! Suggestions here!
And help Document the Pandemic here!
by nean_bean
Six feet is only space, but
I'm tired of holding the people that I love at an arm's length.
I’m giving them the oxygen that they need.
It’s so scarce right now in our crowded homes.
At least I have a home.
They're slipping away.
I've taken up running.
Today I wished that I was flying.
That I would go, and never stop.
My breathing was ragged, as I fought for air.
It reminded me of the people who have it
so much worse than I do.
I pushed myself harder.
I keep looking for somewhere.
Anywhere to sink underwater and
scream.
But, this is running.
The pounding is not soothing, nor steady.
My ankles have been hurting.
I miss the pool.
I never thought of caged birds as safe before.
Airplanes are still flying, though nobody cares.
I find my fingers poised above the keys of my computer,
looking for tickets to glass half full half empty
planes.
Far away places feel closer than ever,
ever-present in my mind.
They have never been farther.
And of course
I know this.
But, what if?
Our government is a joke.
I write because words spill better
than tears down cheeks.
I am one of the lucky ones.
I am one of the lucky ones.
I am not losing my mind.
I am not the red that I’m painting with.
Spilling angry ink across the page,
staining something so clean,
is the way that I fight
from six feet apart.
I will adapt.
We will overcome.
(Art credit: Crescent_Moon)
by amaryllis
i keep on
typing things
and pushing backspace
erasing them
from existence
my words these days
don't seem to come
to life
it's not even
that i don't have the ideas
taking pictures
but not developing them
piling up
pressure on myself
it's just that my brain's
pooped
i might even erase this
i never really know
all it takes is a
simple
ctrl a, backspace
moving backwards
languishing in a
motivation drought
once a leaky faucet
the well has long gone dry
maybe washed my hands
too much
too fast
now sahara dry
no water to spare
not even to cry
in pure despair
feeling empty
yawning up at the sky
as if howling
screaming
but not having
the voice
i'm tired
and
i don't understand
what's changed
pressing my hands against
my forehead
runnning a hand
over my face
trying to wipe this
debilitating exsiccation
off my eyes and mouth
let me feel something
again
ashamed of myself
i feel so lazy
frustrated with myself
why can't i just do
something
be
productive
my hands clench on my forehead
and i think about what i've done
all accumulating
to about
nothing
(Photo credit: laurenm)
by Treblemaker
I had no idea.
None.
Who would?
But quarantine made things different.
Bizarre.
And in at least one way - amazing.
Did you know my dad can cook?
I did not.
My sister did not.
I don't think he knew either.
How could he have known his talent for cooking?
He used to work nonstop.
My father would leave early,
Come home late,
And never, ever have time to cook dinner.
And then in an instant he was back in our arms,
Constantly,
Working from home for only a few hours.
Then, he would put on the daisy-covered apron,
Stare intently at the YoutTube cooking video
And he would be in the kitchen for hours,
Chating with coworkers, with us,
And somehow produce wonderful chicken, rice and vegetable dishes
Which we never knew could come from our small kitchen.
How did you do that?!
We would ask in amazement, savoring every bite,
And he'd excitedly talk about his newest discovery
In barbeque, fried or sauted techniques.
So - in a small way
I am thankful for this time we had,
For my family to discover another amazing part of themselves
And share these wonderful moments.
Otherwise, we never would have wittnessed my dad's cooking skills
And I will always treasure my hard-working father
In a daisy apron,
Spoon in hand,
Smiling from ear to ear as we taste his newest discovery
And rave about its amazingness.
(Photo credit: beautiful)
During times like this, all I need is that feeling of diving down deep, head-first; going under the water & into the infinite depths of a book which tears your heart open and leaves it strewn about on the ocean floor.
-charvermont
breathe. in. out. smile. breathe. repeat. tell them your fine. breathe. repeat. breathe.
-Inkpaw
YWP Newsletter - 03/29/2020
Hello again YWP! Ugh, we're all stuck in quarantine with nowhere to go and no one to see. Yay. Anyway, for most of us, there are still a few solid months of this to go, so I wish you all find some happiness in your day today. Call some friends, write some poetry, go outside, anything that makes you happy. We'll get through this. Have a wonderful week <3
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 and artists, 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 laurenm, Crescent_Moon, Oliver_Cohen, cedar, 2madsmads, Love to write, Treblemaker and fire girl.
YWP HAPPENINGS
-A new episode of eyesofiris' Line Break featuring LadyMidnight! Listen here!
-New Challenges! Check them out and respond!
- Join YWP's Pop up Online Workshops! See them here!
-YWP's LadyMidnight's monthly book club reads! Check out the book club for the new April Read, coming soon!
-April issue of The Voice published Wednesday, April 1!
Stay Safe!
by Crescent_Moon
Trapped inside my house
Trapped inside my mind
hoping that I'll find a way
to escape
Suddenly I remember
the things that we still have
things that we are thankful for
things that make us laugh
We still have music
We still have poetry
We still have art
We still have dancing
We still have imagination
We are still alive
and that in itself
is something to be grateful for
So look on the bright side
look on the light side
and then you will be
a light to all you see
and you will spread the glow
Not everything is lost
so try to look at
what we've found
(photo credit by Oliver_Cohen)
by 2madsmads
If I were a writer, my words would flow right from my thoughts.
My reader wouldn't be confused, the meaning wouldn't be lost.
If I were a writer, I'd have a clear goal in my head.
I'd say just what I meant from the beginning to the end.
If I were a writer my words would shift into a song.
And when my reader read them, he would want to sing along.
If I were a writer, my words wouldn't stay stuck on a page.
They'd leap and bound and spread throughout the world; they'd make change.
If I were a writer, would it be so awfully hard
To make the people listen and to get my point across?
I know that it's too often my thoughts get trapped inside my brain,
And I'm sure they'd make a difference if I could get them out some way.
The world needs these words. People need to be spoken to.)
And if I were a writer, I'd bring these words to you.
(photo credit by cedar)
by Love to write
concept: the highway gurgles and the horizon looks like a city
that’s been flipped on its back and tattooed on someone’s empty hand.
we roll down the car windows and let our hair fly out.
the storm fills our heads and we
open and open our mouths, like dying fish, trying to get a taste of the
sky.
concept: we are becoming misplaced in our fabricated freedom.
i tell you how the street corner glows when the sun rises and you tell me
we are too stubborn to forget the dark in our eyes.
i ask, is it me or the leaving that makes you hurt?
you pull clouds over your eyes and look the other way.
later, i find a torn notebook by your bed.
me, it says. me.
I wonder how much sleep you got last night,
how many years it took for you to spit that up.
concept: the sky has never been your home.
and you’ve never even looked up. truth is a word you refuse to
defend.
(photo credit by Love to write)
Social Distancing Journal - 03/28/2020
- Went on a short hike with my family
- My brother had a spectacular fall in the mud
- Whenever we passed other people it was like to magnets with the same poles repelling each other
- I am officially obsessed with photography
-Crescent_Moon
SDJ 3/27/20
Went on a walk with my fam
sat and wallowed over a really sad book
listened to Lizzo
typed... A LOT
sort of kind of felt ok
realized i had coffee this morning and that's why i felt better
decides to have coffee every morning
relief comes with tiny writes
-fire girl
SDJ 3.26
-schlepped through online school. Its just sad I want to meet everyone in person again
- Made pizza to stay busy
-Ate pizza to stay busy
-Tried not to think about the world and its issue by binge watching tv shows
-Realized I actually have homework about ten minuets ago. Then came to YWP.
-Treblemaker
YWP Newsletter - 03/15/2020
Hello YWP! While it is starting to feel like spring outside, many of us are stuck at home with "online" school or huge packets from our teachers. The quarantine can certainly be rather boring, but lucky for us, YWP isn't going anywhere! Poetry and creativity can not be stopped. That being said, stay safe and wash your hands. Hopefully, this pandemic will settle down soon enough and everyone will be healthy and able to get back to community gatherings and seeing people they love. Have a great week and good luck with your schooling, whatever that may look like. :)
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 and artists, 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 laurenm, fire girl, eyesofiris, Treblemaker, Dancer, IsabelleRose, knmarcot, New Leaf and Fiona Ella.
YWP EVENTS!
.The first Line Break Episode is out with eyesofiris and irishjayne! Check it out here!
.Check out the March Issue of the Voice!
.New challenges to write from including one about how COVID-19 is affecting you! More here and on the front page of YWP.
.Need something to read? The Book Club has you covered. Plus, read LadyMidnight's March book, This is Where it Ends by Marieke Nijkamp.
.College Essay Workshop on April 11, 10-11:30 with Denise Shekerjian for YWP juniors and seniors! Learn more here.
by fire girl
Feet are bright grounders
to earth.
Starry points keeping you down.
Gravity?
No, only choices,
fear and your own will
keep you here.
Where would you go?
Somewhere where no one has breathed
Somewhere completely your own.
a place undone in high aching
My child, are you a poet?
why ask a question you already know the answer to?
Sometimes people change...
everything changes, it is out of our control.
You are wise for a youngling.
Whoever said younglings weren't wise?
An oldling?
you are growing, my child
I am no child.
everyone is a child on the inside just as everyone is a poet on the inside.
Who are you?
wish on me, I am a star,
I am a dandelion,
I am a candle,
I am temptation,
I am dreams,
I am what you want me to be.
What can you promise me?
I promise nothing but hope
photo credit by Dancer
by eyesofiris
this box of darkness, mine
i am running from you, father time
catch me if you can at the
turn of a dime,
sleight of hand,
a quarter from my ear.
these hands of restlessness, ours
we sit silent in uncomfortable cars
more than anything we wish to stare at the stars
i’ve been told about this feeling of not having
enough hours, not having enough time,
putting your emotions behind bars and
locking the cell with twine.
this mind of ambition, mine
my plans are as straightforward as a traffic sign
you wish that you were half as smart as i,
yet when our GPAs are revealed senior year,
you won’t be the only one wishing you had spent fewer
days dreaming about apartments in the east village.
these crazy years, ours
someday we’ll look back at these poems,
surrounded by dust in a musty attic or basement,
hidden in a box marked “CHILDHOOD”
and tucked into the farthest corner next to a my little pony
hairbrush.
someday we’ll be brave enough to read these poems again
and someday we may wish we had spoken the truth instead
of just writing lines that seemed poetic in the moment.
someday i’ll hold your hand and you will hold mine and
it will all make sense, and i will be wendy and you will be peter pan
and even though i never got around to finishing the book,
i am almost completely certain
that they live
happily ever after.
photo credit by IsabelleRose
by Treblemaker
A/N: Recently my school has switched to online learning due to the virus, which was the inspiration for this piece.
Hello I say
I touch the screen
My fingers leave a trace
I didn’t think I’d ever be
so glad to see your face.
It’s nice that kid with bright pink hair
Is on the screen with me
Who knows I’d be excited to say hi to Christian T?
I gave a smile to the girl who’s quiet during class
To my surprise and through the screen she makes a face and laughs
Peace sign to that kid who throws the ball around the hall,
And finger hearts to Sarah, I don’t talk to her at all.
That dimwit that sits next to me, through the screen I smile,
He’s chilling on his bed and eating popcorn for awhile.
I’m glad to hear that gamers voice, and I answered it with care,
Thumbs up from the soccer girl- she compliments my hair.
Checking in which Mandy B,
Frankie K says ‘sup
Someone made a fart of course laughter does erupt.
Hello I say
I touch the screen
Please stay safe I pray
I'd like to get to know you all,
Please don’t go away.
photo credit by knmarcot
I guess you could say I made a difference this week- but to what and for who- I'm not sure
-Treblemaker
Each big world event is honestly big enough to be its own crisis. But no. We're having all of them... at once.
-New Leaf
dream of travel--
crossing through a foreign airport in the wee hours of the morning,
driving into the unknown,
public transportation taking me someplace I've never been.
the smell of the air of someplace-else
the voices and faces of that place.
rain on my skin and the thrill of the future.
except my world is now,
suddenly,
so small.
-Fiona Ella
YWP Newsletter -03/02/2020
Happy March YWP! It's funny how we have all this snow when in December, it was rather... brown outside. Coming up soon is Vermont's special fifth season, mud season, when you drag out your rain boots and the entire earth turns into a mud puddle. On the bright side, that means it's close to spring! I hope you all had a great February and here's to hoping March is even better! Also, if you live in Vermont or Massachusetts, remember to vote today (March 3)! Have a great day!
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 and artists, 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 laurenm, QueenofDawn, LadyMidnight, Andrew Knight, EverlastingWaves, Abriatis, cedar, Fiona Ella, Niña Estrella, and Crescent_Moon.
YWP ANNOUNCEMENTS!
1) First of all, thank you so much to everyone who contributed to the VT Writes! Writing Contest. Your participation means everything to YWP! And a big congratulations to our first place winner, Lilak1, our second-place winner, fire girl, our third-place winner, Rovva, and our twelve honorable mentions, (AvaClaire, Hazel.C., Brooke.agricola, Marina2020, LadyMidnight, Inkpaw, johnstonj, Treblemaker, DarkTruths, Riordan Adams [submitted by teacher adowning], Iodestoa and EverlastingWaves)! Read their work (and see some wonderful photos!) in the March Voice!
2) New challenges are always available to get your creative juices flowing! Check them out here.
3) Read the March book, This is Where it Ends, by Marieke Nijkamp as part of LadyMidnight's monthly recommendations! The Book Club and reading the monthly read are a great way to engage in YWP and support the community!
4) Eyesofiris is starting a YWP Podcast! It is a great way to talk more about where you get your inspirations from and listen to others speak about their writing process. If you are interested, contact her!
5) Come write in Winooski! Acclaimed writer and YWP board member Mindy Wong will continue her creative-nonfiction writing series and invites you all to join. It is on March 16, from 4:30 to 5:30. Check here for more details!
6) YWP junior and seniors! Come learn how to write a killer college essay with Denise Shekerjian! It is Saturday, April 11, 10-11:30 at the Karma Bird House. Learn more here!
7) All high school students are encouraged to apply for the Vermont Young Writer's Project Conference! There are three different intensives to choose from and be sure to apply soon as they fill up! More info here.
by QueenofDawn
If they won’t love her, they will revere her.
If they won’t revere her, they will fear her.
Oil slick blood splatters rainbows across her chest,
an empty cavity, a metal cage.
You strain to hear a heartbeat rattling inside,
a little pulse of human, but there are only grinding gears.
Her crown is built from the bones you give her,
hung and strung with teardrops squeezed from your desperate eyes,
shining like the jewels of a queen.
She nurses you on smoke-choked air,
swaddles you in smothering darkness,
and you drape her in admiration.
She sings you songs of isolation,
binds you in frozen chains,
and you embrace her,
and you call it mercy.
(photo credit by LadyMidnight)
by EverlastingWaves
I lay awake
expecting you
to float in
with your bubbly grin
but nothing comes
you are gone
or so they say
the idea
makes me want
to crumble to pieces
I fall into sadness
a deep eternity
of darkness and hurt
nothing can pull me out
then suddenly
snowflakes touch
my hands
(clenched in fists)
and I smile
you would have loved
the feeling
of snowflakes touching bare skin
and then disappearing
to make you shiver
another falls down
and another
and another
until it seems
the whole world
is sending snow
to show that you
are still here
(photo credit by Andrew Knight)
by Abriatis
this music isn't to be danced to, either
but still, you do
still, everyone does,
this slow melody, remorseful and sad
letting those flats take you,
the pretty chords
interludes from the brass
and shimmery notes from the harp
it's no love song
no, it's of adventure and
unlikely friendship
and heroism and, maybe, losing
it's melancholy. but somehow
there's something keeping you there
writhing with every pizzicato
and solo.
it's memories locked in, the sleeves
of your dress soft echoes of a happier time.
there's no fear in the white puffs,
no tears soaking in.
it's done.
but you aren't.
(photo credit by cedar)
I put my phone on to charge last night and woke up to find it at 18% and I feel like that's a good metaphor for my life at the moment.
-Fiona Ella
I’ve learned the secret to life...
Chocolate ice cream makes everything better.
-Niña Estrella
I hate it when adults tell me "you're too young to feel nostalgia." I mean c'mon, I've lived, I have memories, therefore I can feel nostalgia.
-Crescent_Moon
YWP Newsletter - 2/10/20
THE YWP COMMUNITY NEWSLETTER
Happy February, YWP! Here we are, second month into the year, and holding on dearly to those memories of summer, but on the up side of things, all of your writing and art, and photography is amazing and fantastic, and when you're feeling down and like everything is just "Blah," I want you to know, you are amazing too!! No matter the weather, you guys are talented, and bright, and wonderful people, so keep those creative juices flowing, and never be afraid to try new things!
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 and artists 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: Brooke.agricola, Andrew Knight, gaia_lenox, Crescent_Moon, LadyMidnight, laurenm, NiñaEstrella, and PeachesMalone.
YWP HAPPENINGS:
- Join the YWP Book Club! LadyMidnight's recommended book this month is the F- it List by Julie Halpern, and you can check out the book club here!
- YWP's Community Journalism Project is holding a nonfiction writing contest! Cash prizes and publication in The Voice and with YWP's media partners! The deadline is Friday, Feb. 21, 2020. You can read more details, and respond to one or more of the three different prompts here.
- Interested in food ... and climate change? Come to the Opening Reception of "Apocalypse Diet: What Will We Eat?". Join YWP's Susan Reid and poet Lizzy Fox to talk and write about the exhibit. Friday, Feb. 21, 5 - 8 PM, Burlington City Arts, 135 Church St., Burlington. It's free. More details and signup here.
- Learn how to write a "killer college essay" with Denise Shekerjian at YWP's Writing on the Roof series at the Karma Bird House, 47 Maple St., Burlington, rooftop conference room, Saturday, March 14, 2020, 10 - 11:30 AM (geared for high school juniors and sophomores. Parents are welcome too). It's free. Find out more and sign up here.
By, Brooke.agricola
I am from blankets.
From Kleenex and NyQuil
I am from the warm and cozy room
(small, yellow, it smells of vanilla)
I am from pomegranate,
big, red, juicy, messy and staining everything
I’m from LA trips and blue eyes
From Jenna and Helen
I’m from the argumentative and stubborn,
From “Don’t go in those woods” and
“Be nice to your siblings”
I’m from Hanukkah, burning candles, sharing bread
I’m from Massachusetts and Ohio and California,
Skyline chili, honey bunches of oats,
From the sleeping at great grandma's place,
eating breakfast the next morning,
the playing dress up with sisters
I am from pictures on various shelves,
now in separate households
But still once my family
(photo credit by Andrew Knight )
By, gaia_lenox
I open my eyes
to light
that bursts through glass
shattering
window panes and
waterfalls
of blonde hair
sewn into my
eyelashes
I open my eyes
to fabric suffocating
last nights dreams
and memories made of
silk and fethers
last night I turned to water
and sunk into the corners
of my bedframe
where the dust bunnies meet
to discuss
the secrets shoved under
my dresser
I open my eyes
made of paper
prone to tearing
up and
drip dropping
on the cicadas
that so carefully
sit on the underside
of my fan blades
dreaming of upside down coffee tables
singing
radio static
into my quiet ears
twisting me into
simple chaos
awake
(photo creidit by Crescent_Moon)
By, LadyMidnight
I wrote a song on the back
of my hand
but managed to forget all the words.
I read you a story
that no one enjoyed
except for the paper birds.
I exist in silence
like a quiet flood
threatening to overflow.
Uniqueness is futile
humans fall as one
just take a glance at the snow.
I stand on scaffolding
built from my dreams
which waver in the sky.
I think I'm a believer
but somedays
I just want to sit down and cry.
In my blood,
runs poetry and somewhere, hope
because eventually, I get a voice.
Be thankful
because by being alive
someone gave you a choice.
(Photo Credit by laurenm)
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