YWP Content Published in Newspapers

Young Writers Project is most grateful to its eight newspaper partners who publish your work on a regular basis. Weekly: Burlington Free Press and The Valley News. Monthly: St. Albans Messenger, Brattleboro Reformer, Rutland Herald (and Reader), Times Argus (and Extra), Bradford Journal Opinion and Charlotte News.

The papers have a combined circulation of nearly 75,000 and the papers are read by well over 150,000 people.

YWP staff, volunteers and Community Leaders from this site help select work.  If you'd like to help with this process, contact Susan Reid.


Dec 05
fiction 0 comments challenge: Trees
m.fredella's picture

Dancing Trees

Limb to limb

Arm to arm

The secret whispering of leaves between two old friends

The whistle of wind blowing through splayed branches

Branches that sway in time to inaudible music

Clawed wooden hands reaching up to the ever changing sky

Roaming roots ripping from the damp soil

A strange rhythm of the woods

Oh, what a strange sight

Dancing trees, moving to a silent beat

Oh, what a strange sound

Singing trees, chanting a silent melody

Oh, what a strange experience

A tree party

Dec 05
poem 2 comments challenge: Trees
laurenwwright's picture

The caregiver

The oak tree stands tall in the distance,
while children use it as a barrier in their nerf 
gun war. The branches lift, like the smiles
on the young boys faces. 

Between the swaying vines of leaves 
hanging from the weeping tree; her knees 
sit hugged to her chest. The vines descend
closing around her, like a shield. 

Fir trees stand tall as the snow illuminates 
the ground. Trying to attract the young couple
in search of the perfect tree to bring home for
their daughter's first Christmas. 

The maple tree stands isolated in a field.
The leaves fall like tears, and pile below. 
Blue tubes wrap around the base, drawing 
sap from inside. 

The oak, weeping, fir, and maple trees
line the towns. Looking over the little girls 
grasping their mother's hand. The dog
pulling a man behind him. The couple
walking the sidewalks with hot chocolate 
Dec 05
poem 1 comment challenge: Trees
jessie.p's picture


In a world where a tree could talk, what would she say?
Would she apologize for her cousin falling on your house in that hurricane?
Would she forgive you for chopping down her mother for firewood? 
Would she complain about the wood ants crawling all over her?
Would she bark at the woodpeckers for jabbing at her beautiful skin?

Perhaps she'd say nothing at all...
Maybe the way we treat trees, speaks louder than she ever could.
We cut her down, then throw her into a woodstove to burn.
We shoot bullets at her for target practice.
We catch the forests on fire and kill her whole family.
Then we plant more trees, and forget about the old.

Dec 05
Dubz's picture

a comical injerie

I was six at the time,
scooter-ing in Montreal
faster and faster
toward the puddle
slicing through the water
untill, with a mighty spash
I bit the asphalt,
searing pain,
some where in the chaos,
ringing out for the world to hear
joy is everywere.

Dec 04

The Warmest, Loveliest, Thing

My throat closed
when you wept
against my cheek.
I heard your heart
thump inside you,
slowing and speeding.
Tha-thwump, tha-thwump.
It was so subtle,
but it was there
against my ear.
My eyes warmed,
waterlines stinging,
as I listened.
You let it out then,
what you felt.
I felt it with you.

You just wanted
to be heard
by someone.
You sounded like me.
I was so lonely,
but I wasn't alone.
You taught me that.
Pain is a given
and when birthed,
you touched my hair
and caressed my back
and whispered.
You reached me
through my nightmares
and guided me,
and in my dream
of certain death,
you held my hand
and whispered to me.

It was the warmest thing
I had ever felt
and the loveliest words
I had ever heard.
I can't imagine
this cold winter
Dec 03
poem 4 comments challenge: General

Overrun By Books

I cry every time I read
I want those moments
The moments that give someone meaning
When I read those words and picture their lives
All I want is to be them
Or some version of them
Not the ones that have the perfect lives
Or the ones with the happy endings
But the ones who keep going no matter what the world throws at them
The ones who go on adventures
The ones who have a friend who they can talk about anything with
The ones who learn how to love
The ones who would do anything to be with the one they adore
The ones who enjoy their lives despite hardships
The ones who have a story to tell
Not always a good one
But one that will have an impact on at least one person

I'm not asking for a different life
All I want is to have those moments
And feel some of those feelings
And live a life that means something
I know I won't get my perfect fantasy
Dec 03
STEINERM's picture

It's About Time

What is time? Most people will think of a clock when they hear time. Others might think of space. When I hear time I think of how old I am. Time is everywhere, time is in everything. Time is in a wall and how many days that wall has been, time is in your food and how long the food was cooked or made, time is even in you and how old you are. There's a saying that time waits for no man; I think that time is a friend. You grow up with time, time is with you from the beginning with the end. Sometimes time can be a pain that some people can get stressed by- like not having enough time to finish your homework, or not having enough time to get to work. But sometimes people need time-like time away from people, or time to go home and see your family.
Dec 03
poem 6 comments challenge: General
mccaffre1's picture

When the sky falls

When the sky falls

I'll catch it on my shoulders

When the sky falls

It won't weigh me down

When the sky falls

I will raise up my chin and await the clouds to float to the ground

But in reality

I’m not strong enough to hold up the sky up when it falls

In reality

It will crush me till I remain consistent to a pancake

And in reality

The sky probably won’t even fall

But I still like to think that it will be me who saves it if it does

Dec 02
ailuro's picture


I smile, my cracked lips stretching wide at my reflection in the mirror. A scarlet sheen glimmers faintly across the fissured, dry surface of my lips. Behind them, my teeth seem to hover uncertainly in the dark crevice of my mouth. The girl in the mirror seems to echo my movements and her large, blue eyes catch mine. A shimmery peacock-blue shadow dusts my eyelids and my lashes flutter about in the air like spider legs. I had thought it would make my eyes look enchanting and mysterious, but now it just feels stupid. My mouth contorts into a frown and the girl’s face grimaces right back at me. Stupid, stupid, little girl. An inexplicable grief settles in my stomach and I reach for the makeup remover wipes on the counter. Tugging one out the plastic container, a medicinal, artificial smell clogs up the bathroom. The wet napkin seems to bleed into my skin as I scrub it across my face.
Dec 01
poem 1 comment challenge: General
Layjmo's picture

Society's Message

Society's Message

I look at her, and she looks at me

But I can never be sure what she sees

Does she visualize my image the way that I do?

Is what I see of myself all that’s really true?

When I look at her, I see something else

Something entirely unlike myself

An effervescent beauty, so full of life

Full of confidence, far from strife

I wish I could see that truth in my face

But of that beauty I find not a trace

This matter is far from insignificant

I wish it were possible to be different

Different than what I know is there

I wish I did not have the slightest care

She has the most longed-for qualities

Of effortless perfection and jollity

That I wish so dearly to possess

Because I am truly obsessed