YWP Newsletter 12/3/18
Hello everyone!! It's been a while since I created a newsletter- since July, I think! It's certainly much colder now...
For this week's newsletter I chose works that focused mostly on longing and/or loss, there seemed to be quite a few, the choosing was difficult. This week's newsletter reminded me to enjoy the changing of the seasons, not resent it.
As usual, if you're a regular and already know what the YWP Newsletter is, feel free to skip the next part.
Welcome to the YWP Newsletter! These weelky newsletters are curated and created by a team of Community Leaders, who, along with many others, recommend work for publication, create challenges, give feedback, and do some writing of our own! This newsletter is a highlight of our favorite work from each week, creative, insightful, entertaining, sometimes focusing on a certain theme... we aim for variety in our collection each week to reflect and engage that of the many writers, artists, photographers and musicians of YWP. We, as the editors, hope to give the creators of YWP a wider audience, provide the busy members a taste of each week's pieces, and share some that we particularly loved with you. Please become a returning reader: check out the other newsletters, and share the link with many others who may enjoy it!
Authors in this newsletter are: zazu, Quella, Graceful, LadyMidnight, and Rubber Soul
All photo credits this week: Abriatis
Join us for the next SoundCheck: December 13th, 6-8pm, Burlington City Arts!
Winter Tales! December 12th -16th, Main Street Landing Black Box Theatre, Burlington, Vt. Get tickets here!
Learn about more amazing YWP events here!
What it is
What can I say?
People play different roles in their lifetime.
Some may be difficult to understand,
Even for the person who is trying it out for size.
Bursts of color,
Periods of gray.
Can people change each other?
The world is a circle of differences.
Inspiration lingers in the air.
And hold onto it.
What never changes?
Everything is so much more than that.
At some point a butterfly has to spread its wings,
And learn to stand out from the crowd.
Today, I wondered
whether death is a womb as well—
whether anyone can fit the vastness of who they become
into such a small space again.
Perhaps though, the space is not so small.
I cannot say what the light on the table means,
Just that its voice sounds warm.
Its hands are soft.
Friend, I say,
do you know
your beautiful, beautiful name?
neither do I.
The trees crack,
Their moans echo through the forest
Before arriving back to my ears
The snow is heavy and wet
Sticking on the branches
Weighing them to eye level.
The chilly air picks fights with my skin
Turning it a rosy pink.
The piercing blue diamond eyes that are mine,
Take in the snow falling on my face and lashes.
Pine trees graze my skin
The smell strong as ever.
Rays of sun filter through
Kissing my cheeks with warmth.
My feet move through the snow
Carefully leaving my footprints behind
In the snowy white land.