Content published in The Crow on

YWP is proud to have been part of since its inception, providing this community's artists a unique international audience. Our "magazine" on medium, can be reached by going to Go give some love to your fellow writers -- signing up for an account is easy AND the more comments, the more exposure the piece will get!

Content is chosen by YWP staff, mentors and Community Leaders of If you are interested in participating in the selection process, please contact Susan Reid

YWP generally pairs up each post with a photo that has been submitted elsewhere, but we love having authors accompany their own stories with their art. At the moment, doesn't handle audio, but they have indicated they may in the future. We'll let you know. (However, we still love audio on your posts!)


Nov 26

Quarry Queens

We’re running up the hill, shrieking with laughter, going to our safe place, our haven. This peaceful, dangerous place leaving us breathless every time. The beautiful, jagged redstone, covered in chives and red clovers. We check to make sure that our names are still written on the wall, ensuring our rule over this mysterious place. The trees and plants are our people. The loud geese flying south, the golden sun sinking down, and the uneven rock jutting out are all part of what we love about this place. Sometimes, we stay there for hours. We climb up the precarious ledges to the tippy top of the quarry, looking down on our empire. We stand, side by side, feeling the wind in our hair. We are at bliss, feeling like we own the world.

Nov 12

Nature Trail

The birds sing loudly as I walk down the old beaten path, leaves and twigs, being crushed and snapped under the sole of my boot. The squirrels scurrying around the ground looking for nuts to survive the winter. The sound of the cicadas who have emerged from the ground and are seeing above the soil for the first time in seventeen years. The trees are overlooking the whole forest, towering over everything, only the birds can reach heights taller than them, the guardians of the forests. The ant colonies scurrying to find food for their queen and young, marching in almost perfect lines across the trail, ignoring anything that might walk across them. As I walk down the trail, I stop at a stream, the water rushing down hill, if you lean closer to the water's edge you can see the water striders glide effortlessly atop the water. If you look below the striders you can see schools of tiny minnows seemingly lost as they dart randomly in the clear water.
Nov 06

Sharing Envy

"Wow, she looks really good today.
I wish I looked like that."
Says the girl reading a book,
looking at a leader of a clique skipping by her.
"She is really pretty. I wonder if I ever look that good."
Say the head of a clique as they walk past a girl reading a book.
"I wish I looked like her."
They say in unison.

If only they told each other how envious they were
And how fabulous the other looked.

"My writing will never be as good as hers."
Thinks the friend of an author as she pages through her friend's book.
"I love her writing. Is mine that good?"
Worries the author as she looks through a journal of her friend's she found.
"I wish I was a better writer."
They say in unison.

If only they told each other how envious they were
And how much they loved the other's writing.

I challenge you to tell the people in your life why you envy them.
What are they amazing at?
Oct 25
m.fredella's picture

Thoughts of Moonlight

A girl gazes up at the night sky, the moon casting light on her face. Her hazel eyes shine with the light of a million stars. She wonders about what's out there, beyond our reach. Is it just desolate space stretching on and on, never ending? Her eyes trail an airplane flying among the stars, it's blinking lights so different than the calm shine of the stars. What are the people on that plane thinking? Are they wondering what all the little people down here are up to? Most are sleeping. It's almost two o'clock in the morning, only the restless and slightly crazy ones are still awake. The girl brushes a hand over her face and closes her eyes. A year ago today, her best friend left this world. They used to sit right here on top of this hill in the light of the moon, and wonder about the universe. About the unexplainable. Now she wonders about death. Where is her friend now? When u die, are u just simply dead, or do you get a second chance.
Oct 23
serenamae2020's picture

A Letter from Mother Earth to the Citizens of this World

Oh dearest citizens
of my beautiful lands,
my sparkling waters,
my fresh, crisp air,
why have you done this to me?
Why, may I ask,
have you destroyed my lands?
Polluted my waters?
Released gases into my air?
Is it because
you weren’t satisfied with my beauty?
Are my mountains in the way?
Are my forests too close to your towns?
Oh, I’m sorry, poor citizens
for my magnificent realm.
I have failed you.
You have made the most
necessary changes to me,
and I applaud your resilience.
Truly, it’s awe inspiring.
I just hope that I’m inspired
by the desolate fields,
the gooey, black lakes,
and the air, from which no one can breathe.
That is truly a world
for which I cannot wait.

Oct 11
sophie.d's picture

On A Deserted Road

In a muddy gray car
On a thirsty dirt road
She drives with no destination in mind. 

The last drops of
Balmy air whip her hair
Into a thorny halo
And guitar-rich music
Trails behind the car.

Sweetness diffuses into
Her nose
Along with hints
Of ripening leaves
Distant cow manure
And a future pumpkin patch
(She smells her mom in the kitchen).

The sun is hovering
Somewhere over a golden lake
But she can't keep her eyes
Off the pink-streaked sky
Set over the orange speckled hills-
A crown atop a queen.

She's afraid she won't
stay on the road
As beauty hijacks her senses
But she doesn't care
Because she has nowhere to go but
Where the sky leads her.

The leaves skip from their branches
The sun melts into the lake
The last popsicle of the season.

She turns off the engine
Oct 09


There is something magical in the leaves during Autumn. 
Sep 18

Exploring Jeju Island

Sep 17


when i went to formby point it was a cloudy day
chilly even though it was july. 
another girl and i took the train out all alone
into the town. 
we bought sandwiches and kinder surprise eggs at waitrose
then asked the lady in the bakery for directions
and then we walked. 
we had no idea where we were going
or how far away the train station was from here. 
we must've walked several miles all told, 
past fancy houses with names like
'greystoke hall'
and places that looked just like those places only a little cleaner
where rich american tourists could stay. 
eventually we reached the point. 
we slid through behind the cars into the nature conservatory
hoping that we wouldn't need passes and, 
if we did, 
that no one would notice. 
and then we walked some more. 
this time, through forests. 
i picked up a magpie feather from the ground. 
Sep 16
embermist's picture


Welcome to the fanfare of fall.
To the fire-sprung foliage that flutters onto ping-pong tables
And frustrated fighting over paddles.
Welcome to forgetting.

Welcome to wistful warmth.
Welcome to wood cabins and weaving branches,
Water reflecting here and now
A whispering world wills us away,
Away from wanderlust.

Welcome to scintillating sky,
To six AM stars, sunset streaks, spider-silk cosmos
searching for summer constellations
seeking solace from insomnia.

Welcome to pealing laughter
Loud laze of campfire (we love campfire!)
And after-dark tetherball
A leaning lullaby
liberating from life and its labours.

Welcome to melodramatic
Morse code and magic
Mastering the art of amusement 
Me, drooping eyelids while memories are being made

Welcome to hungry happiness
To hand games and hideaway
Sep 11

I Will Never Forget (Because I Can't)

I saw the planes for the first time.

I don't know how I've never seen it before. I've heard about it, everyone has, but for some reason, whenever we went over that in class, we saw only pictures of smoke rising over the once clear New York skyline. Only heard numbers, quickly recited before moving on to the normal topic of discussion.

But today, I saw the planes.

I've always thought of them as graceful, soaring above and through the clouds and taking people to far off, distant lands. There was nothing graceful about these planes. Or maybe there was, and that's even worse.
Sep 09

dancing with the sun

6:37 PM.
early september.

follow me,
called the sun.

and so we did.

up and over the hill,
bike wheels on dirt road
cool breeze in loose hair
the world on fire.

an open field
tinted by the filter of late summer. 

we run and spin and smile and talk and sing and laugh and live.

the world is broken.
it's battered and bloody and bruised
damanged and disfigured and distressed.

but it's also this,
whole and joyful and jubilant. 

we're alive.

and so
we dance with the sun. 

8:24 PM
early september.

it will get better,
whispers the sun.

we forget we ever doubted otherwise. 
Sep 09
AboutToSnap's picture

Sunny days

Sep 03
BorayZ's picture

Summer 1870

Every summer my grandparents leave the sweltering, moist weather of Florida and return their summer cabin in Vermont. The outside is wooden and slightly rundown with that classic old cabin charm, but in the inside is modern with every shade of grey and beige you could think of. Tapestries from countries around the world hang on the walls and small abstract statues sit atop the floor cabinets containing old games I don't understand the rules to. The cabin is part of a grouping called The Bridges built in 1870 just off a country road, across from what used to be a small hospital.
Sep 01
laurenhall's picture


Aug 27
wondering about rain's picture

Judgment day

I don't know why but I don't like my neighbors hedge.
Stupid bushes cut to sheer perfection, 
every time I pass it by I feel distaste.
Something about the way they keep those stupid
plants in line, a neatly kept barrier
against the neighbor hoods comings and goings.

I dont know why but I didn't like it when other girls,
wore short shorts or revealing clothing.
Faces painted to perfecection, to me, 
just screamed, "I am insecure" and it
irked me to no end.
A short dress was like a big,
"I need attention" sign.

I have made so many judgements.
Shame is what I feel for every time 
I didn't try to understand or see my own 
reflection in the people I judged.
i'm sorry for every person I have spoken ill
about or even just talked about behind their back.
i am sorry for every secret I did not keep
and every secret I created.
Don't be afraid. Don't turn away now.
Aug 09

Clean Ultra Fresh Lemon Scented Dish Soap

Let's face it, we've all been there. 
The dying urge to relieve your bladder must come first
even if it means using a God-forsaken gas station bathroom to do so. 

I told my dad to stand guard outside the flimsy door,
that surprisingly didn't lock. 

I shut the door and came face to face with what a small glimpse of Hell might look like. 
Floor to ceiling tiles, covered in years of foreign substances
only one can imagine what might be.

I didn't inhale through my nose,
although that made me wonder if I could then taste the smell,
so I went back to breathing through my nostrils. 

I did my business, quick as could be
and approach the cracked sink in the corner of the small closet. 

I looked around for the soap dispenser and came up with nothing. 
Then I noticed it. 

I kind of laughed, although laughing required breathing normally,
Aug 09

Brain Waves

I'm not going to lie, I'm scared. scared. I'm always the one to smell fear before the others taste. see no evil, speak  no evil, hear no evil. i am a child that has a shadow of pure energy. energy purified. i see with my lips. i see. i see, with my lips. i put my hands to the sky because I want to feel the morning love. clouds. coffee. cuddles. my brain is like a drain, it only sees one way. One way. on these days i put my blue dress on. pink. red. orange. as a light stands at my feet. spotlight, stop shinning you're scaring me. some say gold is the proudest metals. stone. gravel. and i understand because I feel bronzed of my silver.  My silver. the silver has remained in my hair. remain. remained. remains. I'm on one train. yellow bricks. that takes my mind off the world's  codes. 1 2 3. if I am strong why must I be reminded.  blood in my eyes but same as it is in yours. sssssssh. I'm finding the white rabbit but the smile gave me all the directions. N. E. S. W.
Aug 07

Black Rain

This week 73 years ago, the American B-29 bomber dropped the first deployed atomic bombs, Little Boy and Fat Man, on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The blast and resulting radiation poisoning took the lives of over 200,000 people. ‘Black rain’ is the term used to describe the appearance of the nuclear fallout that fell from the sky after the bombings. The following poem is my response to this controversial event that shook the course of history.

Black Rain


The rain had come
and it was black.
Children cried,
the fires burned,
and the rain
singed the ashes.
Tyranny rose,
civilization fell,
with the darkened skies.


The rain had come
and it was black.
The black rain passed.
And so did the people.
Thousand by thousand
they departed forever.

Jul 31

On The Subject of Ill Luck

I was always superstitious.
Some would say I’m just suspicious,
I knew better than to cry,
“Superstitions are a lie!”
Then one day my neighbor said,
“All this stuff’s just in your head.
People fear silly signs,
Fantasies of their minds.”
I thought about this idea.
Now, what was I to fear?
If a black cat crossed the road,
Would I turn into a toad?
So I squared my shoulders boldly,
Looking in the mirror coldly
I ventured out for a view
Of the whole world anew.
The sun was warm, the birds were singing,
And in the distance I heard ringing.
I pranced onto the road, gleeful,
When something made me stop all fearful.
A shaggy horse walked up the street,
Chewing on a sheaf of wheat.
I ogled at the tired beast,
Who utterly enjoyed a feast.
What gave me such a dreadful fright?
The startling fact- the horse was white.
I crossed my fingers, clicked my toes,