YWP Content Published in Newspapers

Young Writers Project is grateful to these newspaper partners who publish your work on a regular basis. Weekly: Burlington Free Press and Valley News. Monthly: Addison Independent, Bradford Journal-Opinion, Brattleboro Reformer, Charlotte News, Essex Reporter, Milton Independent, Rutland Herald (and Reader), St. Albans Messenger, Times Argus (and Extra), Williston Observer. These papers are read by more than 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 Executive Director Susan Reid.


Jan 27
poem 0 comments challenge: Wind
Just_Another_Curp's picture

The Tiny Bee

The bees are buzzing

Fighting the wind to collect their pollen

A little bee gets blown away

Maybe it will find its way

Maybe not

The wind keeps on blowing and blow

The wind is blowing

From left to right

The clouds forming above

The grass waving down bellow

A storm brewing

All the bees were already home

But not this little one still in the wind

But finally the bee flies just right

So it can find its way home

It fights hard to get through the wind

Giant water drops are falling from above

But our tiny bee finds its way home

It goes to the safety of its home

To be with its family

To buzz all night

Jan 26
fiction 0 comments challenge: Wind
Gretta K's picture

Paperwind plane

Sitting in the same classroom for the fourth time this week. What could be more boring? Today is a fascinating lecture on who knows what. In fact, that notecard the teacher gave me, to write down something I learned, is more interesting than the class. Sketching that one thing that I know how to draw can get boring though. I choose to go for the origami route instead. Not real origami. I’m not that skilled. I’ll stick to a paper airplane. Yeah, a paper airplane. I flip the card over so the wings don’t have the blue stripes on them. Readjusting from my slouched position to leaning over my desk, I begin to fold. Meticulously bending the card to get the creases to stay. Then I find my target. The trashcan across the room. Oh, wait. The recycling bin,or else someone will call me out on putting paper in the trash. I hold my artwork between my index finger and thumb, releasing it just as my wrist flicks forward. Soon, I have no control over its path.

The Wind

The wind,

Such a simple term,

That holds so much power.

It rustles the leaves on the trees,

And flaps the flag back and forth on the poll.

The wind, 

It blows against my face as a walk through the woods,



Just nature and I.

It howls in my ears like a lone wolf as I move along.

Every now and then I mistaken its sounds for creature in the bushes.

Frightened but free.

Just the wind and I.

Jan 26
fiction 0 comments challenge: Wind
Peter Gustafson's picture

week 19 Wind Don't Go There

“ Don’t go there!” said the man from nowhere. “ I’ve been there, it has bears and lice to get in your hair. People that go there do not know their whereabouts and end in the place that is full of bears, monsters and more,” said the man from nowhere. “ It has wolves that howl and angry owls and gore yet to be explored.,” Said the man from nowhere. “ The wind is also one thing that howls in there. It makes you scream and shout and the wind bashes and thrashes through everything in its path. The wind will scrape you off your boat from the beginning and please, oh please don’t go there,” said the man from nowhere. “ I lost my wife and my daughter, my pigs and farm. My dog and my little pet frog, and my farm and my life,” said the man from nowhere.

    I turned and I did in fact say, “ Why, oh why, must I not go there! I hear legends about flowers and towers that reach to the sky! Made from trees and all greens!”
Jan 26

old friends

nothing seems to take me
so far far away
as this feeling
is it old is it new
I may call your name 
to come to me in the garden 
with tea and oranges 
in a little boat on the lake
with wind in my hair 
and time in my hands 
we will take the river 
get out of town
its so romantic
but lovers we are not
old friends like death
forever young
and we know our mortality
and we are long from childhood
but still we can pretend  
Jan 24
Noquell_21's picture

Beautiful Silence

There we are, sitting across from each other in the large crowded room and we still seem to make eye contact. Tears rolling down my face and he stares for a moment, wondering what to do. He gives me a concerned look with soft eyes and tense eyebrows and I return a sad half smile to let him know that I’ll live and be alright. He gives me a nod tagged along with a sympathetic smile that conveys his kindness in a way that makes me feel better and stop crying. I silently chuckle and return a smile, letting him know he made my day better. He smiles and gets up from his chair, turns around, walks out, and I never see him again.