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 07


Life can sometimes go blurry
And you wish there was a pair of glasses
To see clearly.

With feelings in the way of sight
Blurring what lies ahead
Acting as a road block.

When life blurs,
You tend to keep it that way
Not responding to emotions
As they scream for your attention.

As your feelings finally escape
It blurs you once again
But differently.

It's as everything close up blurs
Leaving you in a wave of shock and confusion
But somehow

Life can sometimes go blurry
But remember
There's a pair of glasses somewhere.

Feb 06
MaggieClark's picture


I stare at the young puppy. His eyes reflect the light, and his tongue wags freely about his mouth. “I’ll think about it” I whisper, the puppy paws at  the cage and its face fills with dread, as I turn in the other direction. I look back and the puppy, it has already forgotten my face. He chases his tail, never once thinking about the maybe home, that he maybe had.
Feb 06
mccaffre1's picture

a different sort of way

She was beautiful, but in a different sort of way

Her hair is the color of a dew-shimmering sunflower field

And her eyes are the color of a raging sea

Her skin is as smooth and silky as a flower petal growing on a bud

And her fingerprint makes up the intricate lines of the first leaf growing on a hopeful tree

Her heart is warm like a 70 degree day

She goes with the flow like the wind blows west

And her soul dances with the twirling leaves in fall

Her compassion burns inside of her like the heat of the desert

And her empathy eliminates war

Her love has the power of a thousand waves crashing against a shore

Beautiful doesn’t always have to mean on the outside

So yes, she was beautiful, but in a different sort of way

Feb 05

phantom limb

it's like
phantom limb.
i know you aren't
but it hurts to think that
you were.


it's like you are reaching
across     the     void 
to drive your fingers 
through my ribs and
pry me open like  
the jaws of life
just to
steal beats
from my heart.

my skin has this habit
of remembering things it shouldn't,
and all too often it remembers
your five fingertips on my back.
it remembers your stubble, 
if we can even call it that,
on my upper lip.

the palm of my hand fits
puzzle-piece-perfect on the side of your neck
and when i am without you 
my hands know it.
my hands miss you as much as my heart does.

my hand felt
like it was a part of something
yet something that it somehow, strangely

all i want is for you
to take my hands and
take my time,
Feb 05
Mackenzie 101's picture

The Yellow Elephant

The yellow elephant was dancing around the room.
Spiraling in and out of consciousness, she danced.
Falling to the right, and flying to the sky, she was smiling,
Even if the darkness made her dizzy. She was the elephant
in the room, always wondering why the zebras and monkeys
weren’t dancing. But, that didn’t matter. She did what she wanted,
and wanted to do what she once did. So the yellow elephant kept watching,
And waiting for that one opportunity that never ceased to exist again.

Feb 05
fiction 1 comment challenge: Decide

10 O'Clock





The seconds fall away from the clock, dripping off the hands like the sweat slowly dripping down my forehead, down my nose, off my face.





As the end draws near my heart speeds up, racing, racing, racing like a horse stung by the hot bite of a whip.





“Sir? Sir, we need you to make up your mind now.”





The weight of this decision weighs down upon my chest, suffocating and crushing. The single defining choice to end a lifetime of loneliness. Or begin one.

Feb 04

my face

i do not wear this face
because society wants me to. 
if anything, 
i persist in wearing the face i do
because society did not ask me to. 
i do not wear this face because i think it makes me more beautiful. 
i wear this face because it makes me striking, 
and slightly off-kilter. 
i wear this face because it affects how the world sees me
and i like the way they treat me
i wear this face because it brings me confidence. 
i wear this face because it is distinctive. 
i wear this face because it reflects me better,
i think, 
than any other face would. 
but i do not know if this face reflects who i am. 
i do not know if it should. 
i do not know if it is even possible to. 
i know that it reflects me better 
than layers and layers of eyeshadow almost the precise color of my skin
to make my eyes look bigger 
to change me into the model
Feb 04
poem 1 comment challenge: 4Photos
Ms. Naugle's picture

The Tunnel

Far away there is a tunnel full of fears, and full of dreams

Far away there is a tunnel full of hope, and full of wishes

In this tunnel full of fears, and dreams, and hope, and, wishes

There is a light that burns in the night out of sight

And this light is the fears of the fearless

the dreams of the dreamless

the hope of the hopeless

and the wish for the wishless  

Schuyler Hagge
Grade 5
Killington Elementary School
Feb 04

A different kind of beauty

“She was beautiful,

but in a different sort of way”
Her hair like the ocean

long and full of waves,

Her eyes like the wind,big bright and blue,

yet sensitive, with that i’m-ready-to-go-now look to them.
Her face like a freshly washed sheet,

paile,smooth,and bright.
Her voice like candy,

sweet,soft,and yet still electric.

Her dress,like a flower, bright,colorful,and sweeping by with the wind,

giving you that I-am-going-to-fly-away feeling.

Feb 04
poem 0 comments challenge: Elves

Forest Fantasy

Fair creatures and fair desires,

Yet no believers and no admirers.

Those who enchant the oblivious eye,

Through wandering skies and regretful smiles.

Through itching feet and endless isles.  

Encircled by those that die,

Who meddle and peek, evasive and shy.  

Under mortal moon and breathing bowers.

Who push their backs against the grain,

And fool them all again and again.

Under Aberdeen evergreen,

They will never be seen.  

Those who dwell in secret towers,

Under a spell of unknown powers.

The hymn of bygone breaths,

The dawn of dim lit deaths.

Like sunlight wings that carry light,

Into eternity all through the night.  

All without a single sight.  

Like pale phantoms, never to pass.