Hi Everyone! Welcome to the January Newsletter!
As we move into this new year, and hopefully near the end of the pandemic, remember to pause and take a breath. We made it this far, and now 2021 is (finally) here! As the holiday season comes to an end, it is still so important to stay healthy and safe, and that includes giving yourself a break from the hectic events of life every once in a while. So I invite you to sit back, relax, and enjoy some of the amazing writing and art YWP members continue to create and share.
This newsletter highlights writing, audio, images and any happenings in the YWP Community. We are a small band of YWP Community Leaders who also help create Challenges, select Daily Reads, Recommended, and work for Publication. As the editors of the newsletter, our role is to bring you, authors and artists, extra audience and shine, and to bring you, readers, some special pieces of work. Please pass along this newsletter or the links to the stories to bring the authors even more viewers. Enjoy!
Writers and artists featured in this newsletter: Ezra M-S, Yellow Sweater, Eloise Silver Van Meter, NiñaEstrella, Vicarious, Batman, Cedar, IceQueen, and infinetlyinfinite3.
Join eyesofiris and Yellow Sweater for another awesome Oh Snap! virtual open mic here!
Check out episode 28 of Line Break here!
Join poet Reuben Jackson and teaching artist Alex Muck for a fun writing salon here!
This month's Book Club pick is Black is the Body. More here!
READ ALL THE NEWSLETTERS HERE!
Photo Credit above: Birds of No Color by Ezra M-S
by Yellow Sweater
I build cities from dancing ribbons,
breathing wind into the tiles of recollection and imagination:
cold bricks, warm clay, wet lips.
I want to be Marco Polo,
to map my memories with extraordinary facts.
The silk road was a solid delineation,
a moving line of moments.
Nonfiction is Nonsense. Nonsense is Nonlinear.
A narrative flows like silk, like a road, like a city:
cold bricks, warm clay, wet lips.
Photo Credit: With Love by Eloise Silver Van Meter
because I like the idea of being a queen,
grapevines twisting around my heart,
southern noons painted in pointalism,
beauteous con artists bringing me briny gold
and sand that I trailed over my checkered marble.
and if I ask take me out to the middle of the sea
so my petticoats float around me, as a jellyfish would sting, I scream into the salt.
because when the rain falls it's a queen's bath,
drops evolving into wet petals when they hit the heat soaked gravel
queens don't ask to wear shoes.
evenings covered up in veils that cloud me in confection.
4:30 am dances on balconies, twirling and teetering and tipping towards the weeds.
mid-day heat steaming through the floor of my white leather car.
open the windows and breathe until there's too much bay air in my lungs,
like sails billowing with whomping breezes.
the harbor is my home.
queens don't ask to walk on water.
they just do.
Photo Credit: Lake Champlain by Vicarious
on the lips of flowers,
on the tongue of a hummingbird.
through a field of yellow dresses,
through a forest of tangled hair.
between drunken pages,
between the sheets of a baby's cradle.
through a haze of anger,
to a lover's sleeping ears.
through the cracks of the city,
through the window of a man,
who sleeps, eyes open.
falls from the mouth,
of a child left, waking.
Photo Credit: Millard Nullings by Cedar