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.


Apr 15


“I hate you”
I scream as I run up to my room
I slam the door behind me
“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you”
I say the words over and over again
Words are easy to say when you don’t mean them.....
Apr 15
poem 1 comment challenge: Senses

Bed of Butterflies

The drops drip,
heavy and smoothly,
from their weighing leaves.
My tongue stretches
to taste it,
so sweet and fresh.
The sky opens
as the clouds move
and the sun shines through.
There's a smell,
like freshly cut grass
that wafts through my lungs.
The dirt sticks
beneath my toes
and it's cool to the touch.
The blue jays sing,
their wings spreading
and taking onto the wind,
ever so gracefully.
Butterflies like lullabies
weave through flowers
and grant them kisses.
A warm light
fills my eyelids
as I close them and sleep.
The wind moves
and it touches my hair
before we part with sighs.
I awake to stars
and the moon is high
as she shines down on me.
In the moonlight,
my hand feels the grass
and it grazes my skin.
The butterflies sleep,
but the crickets sing
and their lullaby lulls me.
I feel light
Apr 14

Winged Creature

As I walked the abandoned streets alone,
And into the dark, eerie dead of night,
I saw a bird flying up and away,
A black silhouette against the moonlight.

It called out to me—a desperate cry—
Of suffering, of sorrow, and despair.
I saw it had a broken, feathered wing;
It could fly and soar no more through the air.

I understood the poor bird’s anguished call,
For we all are wounded and broken, too.
But once we are healed, we can fly once more—
It is from up high that we see the view. 

We are all fragile and delicate things—
But from our downfalls, we emerge with wings.

Apr 13

Blue Eyes. Ocean Eyes.

"I've been watching you all the time. Can't stop staring at your ocean eyes." 
-Billie Eilish

I know it's cliche to compare eyes to an ocean. 
That doesn't mean I'm not going to do it anyway. 
It's too good of an opportunity to miss. 

Your eyes are a deep blue, ocean waters that 
threaten to drown me in the depths. They have 
hidden creatures with names of Grace and Hope 
yet to be classified in scientific journals. 

Your eyes are a teal, a water color masterpiece 
of blue and green. I want to paint with the colors
all day, and create artwork of my own.
I must adorn a smock for fear of absorbing 
too much of the color and being stained 
for far too long. 

Your eyes are so green, they're almost not blue. 
Yet as often as I look at them I can see the specks. 
The blue is hidden like antiques in an attic, 
but you can find it if you search hard enough. 
Apr 13
zazu's picture


No one knows how long they'll last,
Sometimes a fire is extinguished too fast.
Sometimes the world stops turning for moments,
And the people who capture it are the artists and poets.

Sometimes your walls start to crumble away,
Because the people around you, have nothing to say.
You wish they're was a world where you simply fit,
But the puzzle is rigged and you'll never get it.
Don't play by the rules that are set in stone,
when it's the chances you take that move you along.
Don't fueled by the world that you live in today,

Tomorrow could be a new one just waiting for you to make way.
So, please stay.
Apr 12

It's Springtime Once Again

Snow-white blossoms give way to growing apples,
Which, in turn, will grow into healthy, red ones.
Robins dance and sing happily 
As they tediously search for underground worms.
Red squirrels giggle with excitement 
As they play and chase each other.
Lilies pop up from the ground,
Ready to grow into lovely flowers once more.
Trees begin to bud,
The sun shines a little brighter each day,
And the snow that has blanketed the ground all winter long
Begins to melt and seep into the softened earth.
Spring reminds the earth and its' inhabitants
Of a renewal;
Of rebirth.
Apr 12

To Be Here For You

Tears drip
Lip quivers
Eyes show pain she will not word

As much as it hurts her
It stabs me
To see her cry

I want to hunt them down
Scream at them for what they've done
For hurting her

But instead
I take her hand, squeeze it tight
Hold her close

Because while I would go to the ends of the earth
To protect her
She needs me here right now
Apr 11


We forget every day to wear
shoes out of the house, especially 
when it is warm
and the sun drips from the sky 
like an overripe mango.

We no longer look both ways
before we cross the street,
or while
or after. 

We are too eager,
too care-free,
too much "go"
and not enough "slow".

"Hold my hand," he says as if I trust him,
as if I ever could. 
"Yes," is not an option anymore. 

We are own obnoxious warning signs. 
Apr 11

Vacation In Florida

Apr 11
poem 1 comment challenge: Awakening


Bare apple branches give way to buds as they cast brilliant white blossoms, 
replacing the starch iciness of winter,
Begining the rebirth of spring, and spreading 
the unfailing joy of new life over the land.