powered by your voice
Feb 21
admin's picture

The Voice: Vermont Writes Day!

Each month, with community help, YWP assembles the very best writing, images, audio and video for display in The Voice, our monthly digital magazine. This magazine celebrates the very best that this community produces. This month casts light on the amazing energy and entertaining content from Vermont Writes Day and the events surrounding it.
Feb 11
in fiction 2 Comments challenge: Letter
mythicalquill's picture

Name #2,432

Dear Olivia,

Or Ezra.

According to the vast, all-knowing internet, those are the most popular baby names as of right now. Of course, you could be number four, Declan. Or Isla. Interesting choices, moms and dads. That being said, your name doesn’t matter a whole lot. Yes, Asher, I’m sure your parents spent hours meticulously picking it out for you, but really? How should they know what fits you best? You’d never even met.

I’m just saying, Arabella, that if you decide you’re more of an Atticus, that’s totally fine. Even if you’d rather be called Amelia, you do you. I’ve been stuck with a single syllable assigned to me since birth, and I’ve made the most of it. It’s not the end of the world if it’s not you.
Feb 10
in fiction 0 Comments challenge: Letter
M'Riah's picture

Dear Baby...

Dear Baby,

    You haven’t been named yet, I don’t think. I hope they decide soon or you could still be ‘Baby’ for the rest of your life. That won’t happen.

    Today, you entered the world. This world is something you know nothing about yet, but you will soon. By the time you read this, you will be 18 and well on your way to adulthood and understanding. At least, I’m sure that’s what you’re thinking. But I can tell you that being an adult has nothing to do with your age, but everything to do with your perception and choices you make.
Feb 10
in fiction 2 Comments challenge: Letter

Do Your Best

Here it is: my Vermont Writes Day piece, straight from the page at Sound Check. What a wonderful day and a wonderful event! I'm so glad I got to take part in it. Thank you to YWP! 'Twas quite a full day, so perhaps more VT Writes from me soon—but I thought I'd get this out there before the holiday officially ends. Enjoy!

Dearest Child,

You are young. So young. Too young, some might say. You will likely not understand what I'm about to tell you. Someday, you will. But even then, you will be too young. So I'll start with the good.
Feb 10
in non-fiction 0 Comments challenge: Knew
charliem's picture


I picked up the wooden instrument, and placed it under my chin. I lifted the bow, and moved it quickly across the medal string. A sound was produced I had never imagined I could make. I was amazed and intrigued, and in that moment I knew I would love the violin forever. 
I've always loved the violin, ever since I started playing it. It taught me to love classical music, and to learn the language of music as a whole. Yes, there were times that I didn't feel like going to a lesson, or practicing when I could be sleeping, but it was all worth it, every unwanted practice and resented lesson, because every time I picked up that wooden instrument, I just knew that those metal strings would forever produce my favorite sound in the world. 
Feb 10
in fiction 1 Comment challenge: Letter
H20.hollym's picture

The Ugly and The Beautiful

Dear Little One, 
I welcome you to this world as your tiny clenched fists open and close for the first time,
as you use your voice for the first time,
as you open your eyes for the first time,
as the first spark ignites in your mind.
I welcome you to planet earth, to this world.
There are many beautiful truths in this world,
and many ugly ones. 
Ones that often make me crave a different world, but see, little one, this is our reality.
So as you open your eyes for the first time,
take in the beauties, and the horrors.
Flourish through the beautiful things,
but don't let yourself get mired down in the uglies.
Because today you have been given the gift of a life in this world,
but also the tools to change it.
So as you see the ugly things, little one,
ignite that spark in your mind,
Feb 10
in fiction 0 Comments challenge: Knew
hannahschwarz's picture


Our family lives on Chestnut Street, down the road from the graveyard. The walk isn't long, but as the night sky darkens and the stars thicken, my feet seem heavy. Each step is more strenuous than the last. When I approach the graveyard gate, it feels as though someone is hanging on to each of my boots. I lift my head up until I am staring at the moonlight and I question my choice to follow Reed's scavenger hunt. I needed closure after he died and this is the last clue. The answer is in reach. My body slides through the bars of the gate and I feel someone's presence. It was Reed, I just knew...
Feb 10
in fiction 0 Comments challenge: Knew
dangerous_bear's picture

Bear Attack

There came a bear romping down the trail. It's large hindquarters swayed back and forth as it neared me. At first I saw the bear and thought Oooh a bear! But then it came closer and it looked aggravated. What did I do to provoke this bear? The bear was coming closer, at this point I had decided to call him Rocky, if it even was a he. Now he was twenty feet away. I looked at the bear's open mouth, his teeth were gigantic! Ten feet. I notived that his claws were out and each one appeared to be the size of my fingers, long and razor sharp. Five feet. I was paralyzed, so in awe of this beautiful creature I just stood there. Rocky stood up on his hind legs and roared, it sounded like a thousand jumbo jets right in my ear. At that point, I just knew, Rocky was gonna finish me, maybe he would slice me up with his butcher knife claws, and then have me for a nice snack.
Feb 10
in fiction 0 Comments challenge: Pickle
prodigusriterboy's picture

Fire in the Dollhouse

Her hands gripped the pickle. She was stressed. An entire family depended on her in this moment.

She was a trained firefighter. The little plastic house, set in the center of the rug in the center of the living room, was burning.
The wooden people inside were in a chaotic frenzy.

She had stolen a lighter from her father, and she had stolen lighter fluid from the shed. After trying a few magic spells, the dollhouse finally caught. It snailed along at first, but now the walls of the house began to drip colored drops. 

Not a moment too late, she squirted the juices from the pickle. She had stolen it from the fridge. Calloused hands gripped her head and pulled her away.

Feb 10
in fiction 0 Comments challenge: Pickle
Flink Tranket's picture

Life of a Snail

callous, pickle, spell, snail, firefighter.

Snails are lucky creatures. Living on the ground as the trees tower above them, and all other animals seem to forget about them. They have few worries and lots of time. They spend their days farming. They have developed an incredibly complicated system, and they only produce one crop. That one crop feeds them, shelters them from their callous environment, and provides jobs for every snail under the trees. Pickles, pickles are crop that provides the snails with everthing they need. It is pickles that shelter them, pickles that feed them and the pickle process that employs every single snail. Every snail but one. Frankie has other ambitions he just wanted to be a firefighter. A human firefighter.  
Feb 10
in fiction 0 Comments challenge: Pickle
dangerous_bear's picture

Pickle Plant Fire

There was a fire at the Pickle Plant. Paul Prince's Prized Pickles Co. went down in flames. It started in the jar room, where each and every one of the pickles was put in a glass jar with 7 other pickles, who once shared the same cucumber plant back in June, before they were harvested and sent to Paul Prince's Prized Pickles Co.. All the workers got out safely.
As the plant manager, Paul Prince's nephew, called the fire department, the fire spread to the rest of the plant. The workers ran out of the building, their hands were sweaty from the heat, but they got even sweatier when the workers ran out of the building into the 100 degree weather. The calloused hands from all that pickle work were put in front of their owners faces, to hide the tears.
Feb 10
in poem 0 Comments challenge: Bad
Chloё G.'s picture

Last One Standing

I'm not the villain. 
I don't want to cause pain.
I'm the last one standing,
Out in the open rain.

I'm just a soldier.
Standing on the the other side.
I'm just a fighter.
One who never had a life.

It's best you think me,
Without a face or a name.
Or once I've fallen,
You will never be the same.

So think you're righteous.
So think you're true.
So think you're better.
Don't forget what I told you.

I'm not the villain. 
I don't want to cause pain.
I'm the last one standing,
Out in the open rain…
Feb 01
in poem 2 Comments challenge: Activism
Maisie N's picture

Once Upon a Time

This nation was once just a notion
Of tired bodies with hopeful hearts
A pilgrimage across the ocean
Guided by nothing but the stars
It was an idea, with no borders
No silences or boundaries to buy
It was a giant piece of a promise land
Under the same vast and open sky.
We believed in giving love
In protecting our world
We believed in where we come from
We believed in music
And that it could cure any bad mood
We believed in celebration
And that change started in small groups
We believed in determination
And in going against the flow.
We believed that birds should fly free
Instead of being stuck in cages
We believed in being who we wanted to be
And in love that burned through the ages
But now we act like we all hate the world
Feb 01
Icarus Blackmore's picture

A chance

My feelings about both sides of this election.
Jan 30
sophie.d's picture


37 miles west of Krakow Germany
Soviet boots crunched upon stiff leaves and twigs,
And decaying bones.
To free those hopeful immigrants
Turned away by an angry statue of liberty.
But their bodies are bulldozed limp in memory.

1600 Pennsylvania Ave, Washington DC
Pen scratched paper of high quality,
And high hate.
To imprison those hopeful immigrants,
Seeking a welcoming statue of liberty. 
But they are plowed away just like before.