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 04
poem 2 comments challenge: Elves
wellss's picture

The Elves Among the Woods


The Elves Among the Forest
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
If you ever go in the woods listen close.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
You can hear them.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
But you can’t see them.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
They are the elves among the forest.
Some people don’t believe in them (Macie),
But Lola and I do.
And they are real.
Every once in a while,
you can hear their laughter,
and the singing of the birds,
in the early morning.
Listen very close,
and you can hear,
the trickling drops in their buckets,
as they fill them up with the water,
of the cool, calming stream.
You can hear the humming sound,
of them collecting the honey from bees,
in the bright, and cheerful summer,
and the sound of the wind blowing,
flow to the sound,
of them whistling through the woods.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
Feb 03

Little Log House

Feb 02
rubinl's picture

Fear

The noise in the background dulls. I can still hear my teammates' cheering voices but it's like they are yelling through a closed door.

I look down at the gray, carpeted floor, the gymnastics floor. There are little pieces of material that have come off from years of people flipping and falling. I imagine all the people who stood right here, in this very spot. I think of all the people doing what I am about to do.

I close my eyes and picture myself doing a flawless back handspring. My toes pointed, my knees locked out, and my hands reaching back and then landing on my feet.

I swing my arms forward and the few hushed voices I can still hear fade away.

It’s just me and my fear.

The thing I have been scared to do, the thing that has been holding me back from getting first place, the thing I want to be able to do so much.

Then I fling myself backwards.


 
Feb 01
Emilia Perry's picture

Familiarity

I walk into the empty house, sunlight filtering through the open door behind me. I've never been here before, and I am shocked with a sense of such strong familiarity, I can almost taste it. But it's not a bitter, unwanted taste. It's sweet and thick like honey, and propells me forward. I continue on, my feet knowing exactly where to go, as if following a predestined path. Despite the peeling paint and splintering wood, there is such a strong energy in this foreign place. The dust particles seem to vibrate, sending out shockwaves that lift the hairs on the back of my neck. It is in this moment I am struck with the realization of why I was drawn here, of all places. It was not my home, but it was someones. I can sense the generations that have lived and loved inside this space, the years of sunsets, and sunrises, that cast a golden glow, much as it is doing now.
Feb 01
Sydney's picture

Passage

All around me there was orange. I thought I was going for an ordinary walk, but then, all of a sudden, I found myself in this place. The walls were orange, the light was orange, and the ceiling was orange. I cautiously took a few steps forward then walked slowly through the tunnel. The walkway was not orange, it was an ordinary sidewalk. I breathed in and smelled a familiar scent. Citrus perhaps? I brushed the wall of the tunnel with my hand, and at my touch, there was a sound. Not exactly what I would have expected, not the sound of a hand brushing up against a sheetrock or cement wall, and not what might have been thought of as a pretty sound, like a harp or perhaps a harmonica, either. The sound I heard was of a series of PVC pipes - hanging vertically - being bumped into each other and making a hollow plastic-y sound. At first, I was confused. What kind of a tunnel was this? Why did it make this sound? I brushed the wall again.
Feb 01
poirierp's picture

Courage What A Powerful Thing

This is it
I can feel this 
the blood pumping through my veins
I walk up 
My palms sweaty
I walk up to the podium
one step
two 
so close but still so far
I clear my voice
it ecoes
Everyone is watching
It feels like a thousand Eyes
Watching me
A thousand people
watching 
waiting
I am scared
My body shaking 
Everyone silent 
I gather up the courage and start
"Courage a powerful thing"
 
Feb 01
Ava32's picture

Gone

She runs, runs until she can´t run anymore.

She hides, hides until she´s found.

She can´t feel her legs.

She can´t breathe.

She feels its presence.

It´s coming.

It´s hands close around her forearm.

She closes her eyes.

She feels it´s presence fade.

She opens her eyes.

She´s surrounded by light.

It´s presence fade´s further.

She´s alone.

She´s gone.

Where is she? It thought

She´s gone He says

Gone it thinks Gone
 
Feb 01
Ava32's picture

Gone

She runs, runs until she can´t run anymore.

She hides, hides until she´s found.

She can´t feel her legs.

She can´t breathe.

She feels its presence.

It´s coming.

It´s hands close around her forearm.

She closes her eyes.

She feels it´s presence fade.

She opens her eyes.

She´s surrounded by light.

It´s presence fade´s further.

She´s alone.

She´s gone.

Where is she? It thought

She´s gone He says

Gone it thinks Gone
 
Feb 01
poem 2 comments challenge: Elves
Hobbsd's picture

The woods

The green dense forest pulls you in

Trying to walk away you will not win

It gets dark as the sun hits the trees

This place is strange as it pulls you to your knees

You’ve heard stories about these woods

Everyone stays away in the neighborhood

Creeping and crawling you here them run

Wondering how to get out but you're about done

Shadows zip by, small and fast

Looking through the forest, it is very vast

You here more creeping  around you

But you can not see for vision is too few

The forest envelopes your body and soul

They start appearing out of the trees and holes

They are curious

And they are furious

As you have entered their home

You are now trapped in this catacomb

We  do not talk about these woods

For if we would enter there would be no good

 
Feb 01
poem 1 comment challenge: Elves
Barciaf's picture

Day and Night


The forest is alive
In the morning its sleeps
At night it thrives
Some things creep
I am the Lorax guardian of the trees
I am the strongest Elve here
But don’t forget about oversized Bees!
The branches pluck and pull you like they are puppeteers.
But when shadows disappear
The tree’s dare bother come near
We hide during the day
Because the forest is truly not a place to come and play
The Elves party from night to dawn
However when every tree begins to yawn
All the Elves are packed up and gone
 

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