YWP Content Published in Newspapers



Young Writers Project is grateful to these newspaper partners who publish your work on a regular basis. Weekly: Burlington Free Press and Valley News. Monthly: Addison Independent, Bradford Journal-Opinion, Brattleboro Reformer, Charlotte News, Essex Reporter, Milton Independent, Rutland Herald (and Reader), St. Albans Messenger, Times Argus (and Extra), Williston Observer. These papers are read by more than 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 Executive Director Susan Reid.




 


 
Jan 28

Gratitude

I cried
shaking and spluttering
as tears streamed down my face
My breathing was heavy
and I couldn't stop the gasping sobs

You arrived
composed and unruffled
as I started to choke on my tears
You sat there quietly
and the tears began to subside

You soothed
carefully and diligently 
as I began to regain composure
You gently kissed my nose
and I stroked your golden fur

I smiled
comforted and calm
as you licked my salty tears away
I put my arms around your neck
and buried my face in your coat

Old dog
beautiful and serene
as you lay upon your bed
I remember that day
and I am grateful for your aid
 
Jan 28

Especially without you

Walking down these roads
Is a trip of a lifetime.
Filled with your smiling
The sun shining down on me like rain
Thankful to be here.
The cold is gone as soon as you touch my hand,
My mind finally free from this gloomy trap.
To feel loved is everyone's dream
Though the dream only comes to a few.
But I promise I will make sure you feel loved,
Because no one has made me feel so special.
If the stars ever leave, come back
I can’t see in the dark
Especially without you.
 
Jan 28
A Sports Person's picture

Sweet And Sour

Lemons Are Sour,
But Strawberrys Are Sweet.
Why Can't We Be Both?
 
Jan 28
donovans1's picture

How The wind Makes a Change.

As the wind whistles through the outside of my bedroom window, I began to think of all the other places the wind flows through. I thought of deserts and how the whooshing air carried the sand dunes with men on camels. I thought of the ocean, how the salt-water waves jump in the air amongst the cloudy sky. When I touched the window, it felt cold and moist. I was intrigued by how the window was cold but still protected the warmth of my room. 
Jan 27
abartell's picture

Untitled

Student work by Colby M, Danville School, grade 12.

Digital photo.


 
Jan 27
Reillys's picture

First day of spring


As the sun rises on March 25th, I awake. For so long, I have been awaiting the first real day of spring. I know it is finally here when I feel that first touch of a warm breeze brush across my face. It is the day when the rays of the sun warm my skin, I see the birds return from their winter migration and when for the first time in months, I do not hear the crunch of snow under my feet. This day warms my insides and I imagine all the sunny days, weeks, and months of running, hiking, and playing, until the dreaded winter returns. These days are the best days. Days when I can’t help but smile. I can almost feel myself warming; thawing out after enduring the bitter winter. Everything feels better as I walk to school. The end of the school year feels near. I can nearly taste my freedom as I look forward to the three-month break that is summer.
Jan 27
poem 0 comments challenge: Wind
Just_Another_Curp's picture

The Tiny Bee

The bees are buzzing

Fighting the wind to collect their pollen

A little bee gets blown away

Maybe it will find its way

Maybe not

The wind keeps on blowing and blow

The wind is blowing

From left to right

The clouds forming above

The grass waving down bellow

A storm brewing

All the bees were already home

But not this little one still in the wind

But finally the bee flies just right

So it can find its way home

It fights hard to get through the wind

Giant water drops are falling from above

But our tiny bee finds its way home

It goes to the safety of its home

To be with its family

To buzz all night

 
Jan 26
fiction 0 comments challenge: Wind
Gretta K's picture

Paperwind plane

Sitting in the same classroom for the fourth time this week. What could be more boring? Today is a fascinating lecture on who knows what. In fact, that notecard the teacher gave me, to write down something I learned, is more interesting than the class. Sketching that one thing that I know how to draw can get boring though. I choose to go for the origami route instead. Not real origami. I’m not that skilled. I’ll stick to a paper airplane. Yeah, a paper airplane. I flip the card over so the wings don’t have the blue stripes on them. Readjusting from my slouched position to leaning over my desk, I begin to fold. Meticulously bending the card to get the creases to stay. Then I find my target. The trashcan across the room. Oh, wait. The recycling bin,or else someone will call me out on putting paper in the trash. I hold my artwork between my index finger and thumb, releasing it just as my wrist flicks forward. Soon, I have no control over its path.

The Wind

The wind,

Such a simple term,

That holds so much power.

It rustles the leaves on the trees,

And flaps the flag back and forth on the poll.

The wind, 

It blows against my face as a walk through the woods,

Alone,

Solo,

Just nature and I.

It howls in my ears like a lone wolf as I move along.

Every now and then I mistaken its sounds for creature in the bushes.

Frightened but free.

Just the wind and I.

 
Jan 26
fiction 0 comments challenge: Wind
Peter Gustafson's picture

week 19 Wind Don't Go There

“ Don’t go there!” said the man from nowhere. “ I’ve been there, it has bears and lice to get in your hair. People that go there do not know their whereabouts and end in the place that is full of bears, monsters and more,” said the man from nowhere. “ It has wolves that howl and angry owls and gore yet to be explored.,” Said the man from nowhere. “ The wind is also one thing that howls in there. It makes you scream and shout and the wind bashes and thrashes through everything in its path. The wind will scrape you off your boat from the beginning and please, oh please don’t go there,” said the man from nowhere. “ I lost my wife and my daughter, my pigs and farm. My dog and my little pet frog, and my farm and my life,” said the man from nowhere.

    I turned and I did in fact say, “ Why, oh why, must I not go there! I hear legends about flowers and towers that reach to the sky! Made from trees and all greens!”

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