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 18
Fiona Ella's picture

Apocalypses Arrive Quietly

Apocalypses don't come smashing down from the heavens, 
destryoing civilization in one easy wave of fire
and sending everybody into a frantic scramble to survive twisted political ideals 
and stay alive. 
They don't steamroll over people's lives, 
destroying political and social concepts all at once. 
They don't dry the Earth up all in one giant cloud of dusty red smoke, 
leaving us on a Martian desert land full of prehistoric beasts. 
Apocalypses don't scream their intentions as they slam down onto our heads, 
and they don't wipe out live as we knew it, 
not noticeably, anyway.

No, I think that in real life apocalypses arrive so subtly
that people don't always realize they're there. 
One simple, reasonable step after another until it's too late. 
We go on and continue our regular lives, 
reading and writing,
running and swimming and gardening 
because apocalypses
arrive quietly. 

Apr 16
poem 0 comments challenge: Backpack
19bielmo's picture

Ode to the Weight On My Shoulders

Like Dora I rely on my pack, 
It has every little thing I lack. 
The fact I forgot during my test, 
Is in that book next to the rest. 

It bares the weight I carry on my shoulder, 
Gaining pounds with each year I get older. 
It holds my future by worksheet and note, 
Each calculation and essay I wrote.

I know this bag always has my back, 
It can decipher the codes I can not crack. 
If you seek this help, then be my guest,  
My backpack has proven to be the best. 

It contains the plethora of binder and folder, 
An absolute stun to every beholder.  
Now granted, I really don't want to gloat, 
Yet there is nothing about these for one to demote. 

A backpack is really a nerd's best friend, 
Providing the support, a person just can't extend. 
Apr 16

The Weight of Many, Held by One

Their heart is as pure
as freshly fallen snow,
crisp and clean.
Their eyes shine and glitter
like sapphires in daylight.

They smile
as if everything was perfect.
They set their shoulders back
and their chest forward.
They walk in confidence,
emanating strands of gold
as if it were a cape.

They remain so kind
and warm
despite the war they fight everyday
with shards of a silvery mirror
tossed recklessly in a cold room.
They duck beneath shattering porcelain
and listen to the cries of a child
waging a war within their own mind.

They paint their face in tears
and careless splotches of pink
as they breathe.

They carry the weight of many
and never complain,
because they want no one
to ever fight this very same blood bath alone
and in the dark.
Apr 16

A Mother's Love

She loves like water
Beneath our feet
Above our heads
Coursing through our bodies.
Ever present.

(Photo credit: Bailey Tetrault, Essex Junction, VT)
Audio download:
A Mother's Love
Apr 16


I do not feel the passage of time.
I could not distinguish fifteen from thirty minutes,
one hour from two,
ten seconds from twenty.
The forward procession of the minute hand mystifies me,
seeming to work against the logic of my brain.

And yet how is it that my internal clock
functions so well without the consent of my conciousness?
How have I managed to wake exactly at seven 
for the past two mornings? 
My body seems in tune to some rythmn
that my mind cannot fathom.
I must be out of sync somewhere.

Time eludes me in its passing,
and yet I feel its disappearance so acutely.
The seconds pile up behind me,
morphing into minutes,
transforming into hours, days, weeks, months.
A year falls away and leaves a yawning cavern within me,
and suddenly my mind understands the consequences
of time foolishly traded in
for experiences that blend into a beige fog of memories.
Apr 15

walk slower

i drove slow, just under the speed limit
for fear that driving faster would
squander our time
i brought you to my favorite place
    but i didnt tell you that
we walked steadily through the trees 
and everything about you impressed me
i was too amazed to speak so instead i listened
i listened to the trees and the birds singing
songs just for us
and your breath, calm and exciting
then we ran together through the mud and snow
playing games to say the words our mouths 
wouldnt let out because we were afraid to 
ruin the moment
  when we settled down i found my voice
enough of it at least to tell you stories
that had no point other than to make you laugh
we walked close and let our arms swing freely
and i spent the entire day building the courage
to move my hand one inch over to yours
but what i feared came true
we walked too fast and ran out of time
Apr 14

An Open Letter to the Person Who Threatened my School

A letter to the person who threatened my school,
Dear Human,

Congratulations, you succeeded in your goal of terrifying someone,
no, a whole school of someones,
no, a whole school district of someones,
no, a whole school district and the parents and friends and community members of someones.
Congratulations, you successfully messed up the schedule of an entire school day for your ridiculous and insulting prank.
Congratulations, you got the police from not just my town, but the next three towns over, the bomb squad, and the FBI to come to our school.
Congratulations, you made sure our lockdown procedure works.
Apr 14
poem 1 comment challenge: Perfect
19kowaju's picture

It Went Perfect

He picked her up at 6:38
The ‘detour’ made him late
His car stopped three streets short
The tank was ‘missing’ a whole quart.

There was no reservation
The dingy dinner was their ‘salvation’
The waiter dropped their platter
It ‘accidentally’ hit her with a splatter.

They decided to walk through the park
That kid’s snowball ‘missed’ its mark
Starting the long trek back
An old man ‘didn’t mean’ to cough on her with a hack.

Once they reached her house
She ‘totally’ was as quiet as a mouse
They’re never going on another date
They think they’re a match dissuaded by ‘fate.’

My plan worked out great
How could he think that I’d ‘let’ him date
He didn’t even detect
My plan went perfect.

Apr 14


Her mind is an airless cavern
suffocating her thoughts
until there are none.
Her lips are two zippers looking to collide.
She looks around with breathlessness
in clothes that used to fit
her feet wet and cold
from running in grass
hair dry and crimped.
Every day she sleeps
with no intention of waking up
her eyes thick, and heavy
Walking right after left, left after right
counting the minutes it takes
for day to turn to night
so that she can find her peace
in what she relentlessly 
try's to repeat
day after day trying to find
a way to stay
digging herself deeper
into what she knows is wrong
but how can she feel bad
when all she once had
is gone.
How can I go on 
if everything
is gone.
Apr 13


"It doesn't matter what I do, it's only me".

    Inwardly, I sigh, as I lean my cheek against the cool glass of the car window. As I watch houses, trees and cars whisk by, my thoughts are separate yet connected, like the blurred objects outside:

Matter to whom? The world?  The world is made up of individuals, if your actions matter to one person, they matter to part of the world. Look at one important person in your life, and you will see that the actions of an individual really do matter.