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.


Jan 28
thelightb49's picture

Sea Glass

It was a partly cloudy day. A Thursday to be specific. We had just arrived the day before in Boothbay Harbor, ME. Everyone had already walked back to the hotel, after breakfast in the Inn. It was just my dad and I walking back. As we were walking, we decided we wanted to go ahead and sit there for a while watching and listening to the ocean. We sat in the blue and white wooden chairs. We heard the sailboats drifting out to sea. The lighthouse was just barely visible in the distance on a small island. The sound of the waves splashing against the rocks and the squeaking of the seagulls. It occurred to me how lucky I was to be in such a magical place.
Jan 28


The wind reaches out,

with its wrinkled, weathered tendrils.

It pulls

like a child holding on to his helium balloon


when he lets it go

and it soars above the clouds.

a lonely drop

falls toward the earth.

into the firm hold

of a rusted red wheelbarrow

by the white chickens

and the cows grazing in the field.

- Inspiration drawn from "The Red Wheelbarrow" by William Carlos Williams
Jan 28

January 28, 2004

her fingers crawl up her legs and along her torso until she reaches the base of her neck, her hands wrapping around the hair that grows there, binding it with a black tie. her eyes are soft and kind while she speaks to me, telling me anything i want to hear. She’s never changed. Never woken up and decided to put on a mask for popularity— she’s never needed to. She’s never needed to be anything but herself for people to love her. Most things that look beautiful hurt to hold. Like a rose with thorns, like snowfall with frostbite. But she has never hurt me, and i have held her eternally. I have wrapped my soul around her so tightly that no one can tell the difference between our beings. I have held her so close that i am lost without her, but somehow when i stare down at the ring on my finger i know that she is nothing more than an arms length away; not ever truly distanced. Not when she lives so strongly in my heart.
Jan 27

Without You

Without you
The sun could not shine
And the waves could not roll.
Without you
The moon loses its stars
And the earth loses its sky.
Without you
My heart won’t have a beat
And my lips lost to a whisper.
Without you.
My world is stopped
And longing for your return.

Jan 27
fiction 0 comments challenge: 70°

Fahrenheit, or France

I had just sat down in my seat for literature when I saw her.  70 walked through the door, her long curly hair bouncing slightly as she walked.  Everyone called her 70, for 70 degrees because the perfect, pretty weather matches her.  My pulse quickened a bit as she traveled through the rows of desks. Many eyes stayed attached to her as she passed by.  Her sunny smile gleamed. I was shocked when she plopped her things down on the desk next to me. She smiled and said, “Hi!” in a cheerful tone.  “Er, h-hello,” I mumbled back. “What’s your name?” she asked kindly. “I know you’re in seventh grade, but I don’t know your name.” “James,” I answered.  “James.” She seemed to be tasting my name on her tongue like a new food. She smiled again. “I’m Fahrenheit,” she told me joyfully. “Please, though, call me Francesca.  On second thought, France! It’s the place I want to travel to most.” Her beautiful, unusual dark brown eyes had blue and gray flecks in them, like the sky.
Jan 27


Oh for summer days I waste away 
For sunny skies have turned to grey.
My hair has highlights of crystal snow
Another step my feet dare not go.
I reach into the freezing cold
Searching for a bit of warmth of which to grab hold
But nothing comes
And I have lost the feeling in my thumbs.
I search deep inside with hopes to find
A little spark that has not yet resigned.
But there is none, not even a bit.
I guess I’d better stop complaining and just embrace it.

Jan 26


I am not fragile
or brainless
these things I must remind myself of

you know how your lungs start to burn while you're
running and it gets hard to breathe?

that's what it feels like but not in my lungs
it's in my stomach and my back
and a little in my throat

it curls its way up my spine and down my legs and up  
throughout my arteries
hitting every nerve along the way

it glitters and sparks
which draws attention, of course
people stare as the lightning
rips a path under my skin

when it's finished slowly, excruciatingly
electrocuting my body, it lingers in my eyes
purple ropes and wires wrap themselves around me
stinging like rugburn

Jan 25

There's a Hole in My Shoe

There's a rock in my sock,
and a hole in my shoe,
and the sky is too wet,
and the water too blue.

Now my ears feel numb,
and my fingers can't hear,
while my head's speaking nonsense,
and my eyes hold you near.

I think my life's headed south,
where the roses don't grow,
and the ponds shimmer lightly,
where the dark shadows go.

And the light it burns dark
where there's supposed to be day,
but my heart has grown hollow,
and I feel lost in each way.

I feel like a child,
afraid in the park,
and people can't see
that my mind has grown dark.

So here I lay crooked,
broke and misplaced,
while I ponder my thoughts,
imperfections and mistakes.

Maybe someday I'll be better,
fixed up and brand new,
but, until then,
there's a hole in my shoe.

Jan 24

Truly Alone

It's easy to know when you're alone.
It's easy to know when you're truly alone,
not alone as in nobody's watching.
But alone as in truly alone.
As in nobody there to care,
as in nobody there to remind you you're human.
Nobody to lend you an ear,
nobody to love you and nobody to hear.
It's easy to know when you're alone.
You can feel it deep inside every bone.
You can feel the chasm inside,
yet it's still so easy to hide away.
But no, don't turn around.
No, don't trade your smile for a frown
because someone is waiting for you.
Someone who'll always be true.
Someone is waiting and someone is hoping
to meet you.
So please still be you.

Jan 24

Love for Writing

My undying love for you
Is stronger than you can imagine.
The ink that flows onto the page
Creates the words of pictures beyond compare.
The story that you tell
Leaves me pushing my hand for more.
With each line my emotions
And secrets spill onto you,
Cracked old paper is renewed.
I can tell the warmest and the coldest story
Yet you don’t burn or freeze.
My love for you is unchangeable
If you continue help tell the story for me.