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 09

rift: The Mariana Trench

i feel as though
the two halves of my brain
are seperating.
creating a sort of rift in my being,
a mariana trench in my mind.

you are at the bottom of 
this sunken place.
suspended in time,
buried under years of brain matter.
no matter how hard i try

i just can't drown you.
Apr 08

Small Flowers

Tall trees bend down to greet me
Small flowers blossom in place of my footprints.
Long braided hair still hides my face
These eyes could see the world
But dark grey clouds obscure my vision.
No sun could ever clear the skies.
Rivers run long into the night.
Tears they fall down forever.
I miss when my heart could beat for free.
Trapped by weeds that just won’t let go
Oceans waves will just keep on crashing
Each day will keep on going
The setting sun will rise again.
Apr 08

Woodland Sprite

The small earthy creature unfurls from its curved in body, smudged with dirt from a winter's sleep.
It blinks its large spring green eyes, blinded by the ever-shining sun.
The creature is a wood sprite. Her name is Petra.
She is thankful for the warmth that seeps through her raw, frosted skin, alighting in her soul and a long slumbering joy opens a single eye in response, deep in her soul.

She is ready for the Spring.                                         
Apr 05
Sydney's picture

Finding Home

Where is home?
Is it one place?
Does it have to be one place?
Can anywhere be called home, or can nowhere be called home?
Home is mentioned in casual conversations often. It seems to be a much more complex subject than one might initially think, though. Are people assigned homes based on their language, skin color, worldview, or even types of clothing? If I were to be assigned a homeland, it might be someplace in Europe since that is where the majority of my ancestors came from. But to just say Europe doesn't quite work. For one thing, there are so many countries in Europe. For another thing, I have ancestors from many countries in Europe, so it cannot be that just one of them is my assigned home. 

I have never been to Europe. I cannot very well call a place I've never been, home.
Apr 05

Ocean of Loneliness

We are all alone.
We all fight the tides of loneliness 
But are swept away by the roaring ocean.
Our hair is full of salty waves
And our screams are smotherd
Before they matter
And we feel all alone
Awash in a sea of sadness.

I'm here and I know you are too
Reach your hands out and let your fingers close around mine
Bring me to you
And the riptide will carry us to shore.
Apr 05

Call A Crow By Its Name

The crows remember my name
and they call me from the woods.
Their beaks are at my neck,
scratching it and flapping their wings
violently for steadiness.
They have to be precise and cold
like a stalker in a field of grass,
like a cat on the prowl.
Their eyes are black and soulless.
Their talons are slick leather.
If I could remember their names,
then I would call upon them,
but they've grown stale on my tongue
and my ears are clogged with cries.
There's a familiar stinging 
just above my brow
where one of them scraped their beak.
I know that they think I'm a predator.
I'm big, without feathers or a beak,
and I lack the strength to fly,
but I want to be accepted into their family.
I want to wear my feathers like a crown
and fly above the trees and growth.
One of them has perched upon my shoulder,
a curious flicker in its eyes,

Apr 04

Conflicting Emotions

I bleed
I breathe
I cry
I smile
I'm happy
I'm sad
I'm angry
I wish I could make things better for myself
I'm content with my life
I wish I knew you
I'm okay with not knowing you
I'm afraid
At the same time, I'm brave
How is it possible to feel all of this mixed emotions at once? 
Apr 03
poem 0 comments challenge: General


I have grown up inside these walls. There is not a day I remember in which bells did not chime around me, cars did not crawl by in miles of traffic, salespeople did not push themselves against passerby. This is the city my family was placed in at the beginning of time, and it is where I will stay. We are the city people, and that is that. I have heard murmurings of outside communities, ones whose land is free, ones whose land is trees, ones whose lives are on boats. But they do not matter. Never once will I have to leave this serene, unwavering land of peace, never once will I meet the people of alternating races. My sea of brown is all I need. In school we are taught not to question the ways our food is gathered, not to question where the water comes from. So until I was fourteen, I did not know the power of our government.

I did not know how we stripped the trees from the green people.
Apr 03

A Polite Refusal to be Forgotten

I don't want to be forgotten
I don't want to be someone that the future doesn't know was here 
I don't want to be someone normal
I don't want my name to be on a gravestone covered with moss that tourists pass by on their way to someone else's tomb
I don't want to be an anyone

I want my words to flow through years 
Like brooks
I want them to inspire again and again
I want the stories I write to be loved
Nibbled on by literature-inclined mice 
Read again and again by people with soft hands
Wrinkled hands
Small hands
Scarred hands

I want to be great
I don't want to be a memory in someone else's mind
I want to be someone who changed people's hearts
I want to love
Be loved

I want to write
And draw
And sing
And dance
And read
And change
And change
And change

I want to be a candle that never goes out
Apr 02
Mackenzie 101's picture

The Golden Light

Sprung up from the dead of daylight, reemerging into consciousness, she blooms.
Filled with golden energy, the challenge of growth is taken on.
It all starts off small, so she begins working her way up to the color she’s destined to have.
As she rises to the top, she hopes she’ll never fall to the ground.
Step by step, power is gained until she’s fully blossomed.
Bursting with a glistening yellow, her true form has transpired.
The all-powerful sunflower has risen from the ground, with the purpose of releasing sunshine to anyone that’s near.
So clear in the day, she achieves her full potential, passing along the sunshine to others that need it the most.