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 01
sophie.d's picture

Quote chain

Each year, I make a chain of quotes to hang in my room for inspiration. Here are excerpts from this year! I found inspiration and quotes from all over the place.
Nov 30
When life gives you lemons make lemonade's picture

Words Of The Wise

What did the world used to be?

No one knows that anymore.

Green, they say. Beautiful and green.

They don’t ever seem to care though.

I know what it really was.


Beautiful and proud trees as far as the eyes can see.

I should know.

I was one.

But now, as the cold hearted workers

In yellow hard hats,

And as the metal saw

Cuts through my beautiful trunk,

I say these last words.

Try to live without us.



Nov 30

Candy Apple Red

When I see you, you're a candy apple red, a bright sensation on my mind.
The faint melody of fair music and the mechanical whirl of carousals seems to admit from you like an aura. I see flashes of kids with sticky cotton candy coated fingers, giant stuffed animals carried in tired arms and bright flashing lights. When I see you, I'm confused. I'm always confused. There are always so many people with so many colors and so many tastes and so many scents and so, so, so many sounds. You never seem to make noise, but I can hear you, I can always hear your color. Your a candy apple red, a bright sensation tingling in my ears, teasing my brain, tricking my mind and my senses. Wrapping my head into a world of your own, subconscious, creation.
Yes, when I see you, you're a candy apple red.
A bright, beautiful, sweet, sensation on my mind. 
A candy apple red.

Nov 29
When life gives you lemons make lemonade's picture

Would People Listen?

Would People Listen?

They say write about something that makes me angry

They say write about something that makes mad

But if I did,

Would people listen?
Say I tried to make a difference

Tried to make a change

Would people listen?
Say I was debating against a panel.

And had a great argument

Would people listen?
They say write about something that makes me angry

They say right about something that makes me mad

But if I did,

Would people listen?

Would people listen even if I’m a girl?

A woman?

And wanted my full equality?
They say write about something that makes me angry

They say write about something that makes me mad

I did

Will people listen?
Nov 29
vermillion's picture

My Musical Paintings

Songs are colors splashing together in my mind, watercolors thrown together in splotches of pure instinct. The melodies are motifs that swirl and curl across the wide canvas of my mind. I will never cease to enjoy the deep velvety blue and shining gold that pirouettes from Beethoven’s symphonies or the rouge coils that spike and twist off the paper from harsh rock lyrics. It is my perfect art: never finished, yet always there. I wish that I could delineate the untainted painting from my head for all to see. I wish that all people could hear the colors as I do and see the songs as I do. Sight and sound are forever blurring into one elegant, always incomplete masterpiece that I will never be able to live without. Songs are colors splashing together in my mind.
Nov 28
poem 1 comment challenge: General
Inky2025's picture

A Peaceful Place

“A Peaceful Place”    
Away in the wood, there is a place
A peaceful calm place
Where I sit,
I sit and breathe calm cool breaths
Under the crab apple tree

A place I can escape to
When I want quiet

Peace, tranquility
I listen to the birds
And the nature around me

I like its calm stillness
as I breathe in
soft meditational breaths
I go there to calm down, relax and be listened to
By the animals
The world
And eventually my parents
After they calm down as well

My dad knows about it
I know about it
Mother nature knows about it
But no other living soul will know

Unless someone tells
And then I shall go back
to calm down
once more

Nov 28

Winter Song

I have never found answers in oceans

I have stood on the edge of the water,
screamed my questions to the world,
pretended not to notice the silence 

There are streets with empty alleyways,
lonely poets at open windows
(worrying about the future of a pebble that falls by itself, 
we're all similar anyway),
broken lightbulbs, 
a quiet child that watches it all fall apart

Do you remember
what it was like when we were young
and could fill our empty together

You would pour hot water on the floor 
and I would come, wipe it from your brow with a jacket cuff,
fall in love with your dust a little more

We had strong feet
dedicated to laughing at empty eyes 
and sneaking quietly into ourselves

Now my feet are only running 
Nov 27
poem 0 comments challenge: Fourth

This Is Not A Story

Hello reader! This is not a story.
There are no heroes with powers, or evil witches in towers.
So you can leave. Go. Shoo.
There is nothing here for you.

No damsels telling tales of woe, or knights riding, ladies in tow.
There are no frogs to become princes, or a huge crab that pinces.
No matter how hard ou wish, there will be no magical dish.

The dragons aren't here, no funky boats out on the pier.
You are still here?
Still around?
My, your stubborness does astound.

But there is nothing waiting for you, no secret treasure, not even a shoe.
I am tired, go away.
I wish to rest for the day.

What's that you say?
Do not delay!
For you have got a story to tell.
Nov 27

Anxiety of Assignments

I felt like I couldn't beath
I was getting dizzy
No one was home
I was scared,
I was trying to grasp for something I couldn't reach
For something that was too far away
I was scared,
The future seemed dark
Like it would be impossible to move forward
and I felt scared,
As I looked down at my messed up assignment
I saw the future
I could be great
If I just did this
If I could just get an A

I took a break
I started to beath
The tears stopped falling
And I started to slowly, silently
write it again
Nov 26

Quarry Queens

We’re running up the hill, shrieking with laughter, going to our safe place, our haven. This peaceful, dangerous place leaving us breathless every time. The beautiful, jagged redstone, covered in chives and red clovers. We check to make sure that our names are still written on the wall, ensuring our rule over this mysterious place. The trees and plants are our people. The loud geese flying south, the golden sun sinking down, and the uneven rock jutting out are all part of what we love about this place. Sometimes, we stay there for hours. We climb up the precarious ledges to the tippy top of the quarry, looking down on our empire. We stand, side by side, feeling the wind in our hair. We are at bliss, feeling like we own the world.