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.




 


 
Feb 20

Down in the Hollow

The green grass was peeking it's head above the snow. Bird song gently woke the animals in the hollow from a peaceful slumber. The sun was waking too, stretching it's red, orange, yellow, and purple arms across the sky. From a fallen log some ants crawled to meet the dawn. The short whiskered nose of a bobcat poked out of a cave, and if you squinted your eyes you could make out the shadows of it's cubs. The antelope stood tall, silhoutted against the sun. Her baby stumbled into her legs, then got his bearings and stood proud beside her mother. Warm light now bathed the hollow, flooding it with a beautiful glow.
Feb 19

Moonchaser

Last night the moon was full,

Lighting up the side streets so the jeep could take a rest.

I sat in the passenger seat, looking at the moon.

Wondering how it was so far away,

But seemed to engulf this planet with its radiance.

Remembering back to when I sat behind the passenger’s seat,

My head hitting the side window as the jeep rolled over miles of potholes

Looking up at the moon, asking why it was chasing me

When in reality, I was chasing the moon.

Remembering back to when my cousin and I sat in the Price Chopper lot.

She told me why she didn’t believe in a god, but instead believed in the man in the moon.

She said that the moon had powers that no others had.

She swore that the moon guided us, showed us the right way.

Remembering back to when I camped in my friends backyard in Georgia, Vermont,
Feb 19

Why Do I Dance?

Why do I dance?

I dance because it is the only thing
That makes me feel the stars in my feet.
Nothing matches the feeling
Of spinning, spinning to forget the outside world.

I dance to forget unkind emotions
And create new ones.
To let myself feel the passion
That I so often must push down.

I dance for the opportunity
To jump into the sky
And never come back,
Never return to reality.

I dance to become something else,
To embody another creature,
To imitate another world,
To create another universe.

I dance to interpret
The experience
Of another people,
And to understand my own.

I dance when there is nothing else to do.
When I’m waiting or nervous,
What else can I do but move?
What else can I do but dance?

Why do I dance?

I dance to be happy.
I dance to feel stars.
I dance to escape reality.
Feb 19

Stranger.

I've lost track of who you were
somewhere along the way
I was able to forget your existence.
That makes me happy
most days.
Earth is spinning faster
my sky moves south of yours
even the air is thicker
where I am.
It's interesting how strangers 
can feel more real than memories.
I walk through full streets 
and empty conversations 
but I never stop to question
if I lost you.
Some things don't require an answer.
The noise around me helps drown out
the noise within me
and lately, it is the chaos that keeps me alive.
You would hate it here.
I like that.
Nights still make me care for you
but I've learned that I can't miss someone
I don't even know. 
 
Feb 18

The Mountain

She is the mother.
The mother of all the trees,
Animals and ponds
Around her.
The soft-furred rabbit,
And the sweet-smelling flowers,
Are all her children.
She holds them in her strong, 
Caring arms.
She looks after them,
Nurtures and cares for them.
These are her children,
And she loves them
Even after they are gone.
She knows she may be
The only one who cares.
The only who will save them
When the humans come.

 
Feb 17
mythicalquill's picture

A Sunny Day in Winter

Gloom lifts, fog dries
Revealing a blue that flares ‘cross the skies
Beams glint over ice and slip through the window
To light up my room with a buttery glow
Gold pools at my feet; like summer, so sweet
While the earth is still coated in snow.
Feb 17
Quincy_J's picture

Finding Ourselves

In quiet we find ourselves.
In the moments, unbothered.
The thoughts that come to our minds
ungoaded or asked for. 
Those are the thoughts to pay attention to, 
those matter. 
In complete silence 
they come strongly. 
Pushing sleep away, pushing calm away.
When there is no other distractions left,
they distract the blank mind.
When one can sift through the havoc these thoughts bring,
and perhaps they are meant to cause unease, 
once one can,
they have found themself. 
Quiet, unbothered peace,
patiently waiting for the next mind-full course. 
 
Feb 16

To My Future Self

Dear Haley,

I hope you're happy.
I hope you love the path I chose for you,
and I hope you're always laughing.
I want to know that I'm doing everything right...
going to the right college,
befriending the right people,
following the right career.
Do we ever truly know?

Despite it all,
I hope you're in love with your life,
and that you shine
anywhere and everywhere you go.
Feb 16

Everything She Was

she was ahead of our time
she dreamed of worlds circling around our own
or rivers flowing out of the tears of our own eyes
of flying a wagon to the moon
she was a pioneer of the unknown
she was an exploror
of the pitch black (sprinkled with stardust)
of the tangly ruins that haunted the backyard
she was so much
like a big bang that happened right here
and I was just lucky to witness it
her long, long hair was a waterfall
that swept people off their feet
and her freckles were constellations
people studied with telescopes
so they could find out her secrets
if people were dice
she would have been a double six (rolled six times in a row)
she was a mess
a mess that managed to fix everything at once
when she left someone, their heads were in the heavens
spinning upon clouds and filled with helium
she was a contagious laugh
that infected the body and made it hard to breath
Feb 14
EB164's picture

dreaming

My mind is stuck in the stars,
Your soul is planted in mars
Both lost in our own worlds.
We know one day,
We’ll have to go back
But, for now,
Let's use the stars as stepping stones,
As we make our way to the moon





 

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