Jun 03
The Soccer Bee 48's picture


            I am hungry for knowledge. I alway want to learn. The only downfall is I want knowledge on thing I want to learn about. So if you tell me to learn about some I don’t want to learn about I am going to Half ass it. But when I learn some thing about a thing I like to learn about. Then I will keep digging for more knowledge.
           For example in first through third grade I was obsessed with anacondas which are a kind of snake. I kept learning. I was a computer of knowledge on anacondas. Now I am thirsty for understanding of World War two. From memwoirs to historical fiction I am continuing to read and inform myself on this horrific topic.
             I can’t compare to my hunger for knowledge to anything else.

Oct 18
Thetford Academy's picture

A Quiet Winter Day

The snow crunches softly beneath my boots as I trudge up the hill. Small delicate snowflakes land on my fuzzy hat. I tilt my head back to catch them in my mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, a male cardinal dashes from tree to tree, his red feathers bright against the white snow. When I get to the top of the hill, I pause to look around at the snow covered trees, and listen to how peaceful it is. Dropping my sled on the wet snow, I climb on and slide down the hill, going down easily on top of the smooth and icy snow. The cool wind blowing in my face, smiling to myself. Winter makes me feel serene and content.
Jun 28

Lights Out

On June 27, after a heart-warming dinner with the Young Writers Project board (thank you Kathy), after hearing (thank you Susan) the startlingly kind words sent to me from many of you and your predecessors on how much this little project and community has meant, does mean, to you, I shut off the office lights for the last time after 12 years as YWP's executive director.

To you and the 110,000 kids we have touched in that time, thank you for opening your souls; thank you for sharing your ideas and observations, your flights of fancy and moments of bewilderment. Thank you for taking such creative risk.

You have enriched my life. You've opened my eyes to what you see and feel and experience and think and believe. And you have enriched the lives of thousands upon thousands of others -- your readers.
Sep 25
Crow's picture


 I observe him as he stirs the big pot murmuring to himself. The smell of sausages and red sauce wafts out into the air, making the whole house smell like home. His voice carries through the air lightly, as though it does not dare disturb the space around him. He chooses his words carefully, taking his time to analyze if it’s actually important to say, to put out into the world. He moves in smooth and calculated motions, muscle memory helping him along. In these moments, our words are only for the two of us. We are each other's safes, open to getting but oh so hesitant to give. We can talk about everything or nothing, a weight is lifted, just knowing that we have that option.The hands that are always wrapped around my throat, keeping me from sharing too much, release and I feel I can breathe again. I sit on my stool and just listen, knowing that if I want to speak I will be heard. How many times have I watched him make this dinner?
Sep 25

My library

My library would be magical. Not like real magic, but it would feel that way. First of all when you walked in the first thing you would notice would be the smell. Old books and flowers. Not rotting old books, but the nice old book smell. If you read, you probably know what I mean. There would be an entryway, with coat hangers and a cork board full of poster and flyers for art shows, lost pets, cooking classes and more. The door would be big and wooden with big handles. There would always be a nice old lady at the front desk, sipping tea and reading romance novels. The kids section would have bean bags, lots of picture book and special events. The teen section would have big squishy chairs and all the newest books. Plants would be everywhere and so would families. The adult section would be upstairs and not as nice as the kids. When you left, you would always have an armfull of books. You would always long to go back, and dive into the books once more.
Sep 25
nonfiction challenge: Library

My ~ Dream ~ Library

My personal library would be tucked away on the side of the house. It would take some effort to get there with many twists and turns. Up and down staircases past hallways and hidden doors and all of a sudden, you’d be there. Two glass doors with a handle on each one. You grip the handles and swing them towards you. It would be huge and cavernous but also cozy. A transparent ceiling so you can always see the sun, the sky or the stars. There would be shelves lining the walls with many cozy sitting spaces in between. In the middle of the library would be many couches, tables, desks, chairs and beanbags where you could sit down and read. My favorite books would be on a shelf closest to this area, so I could easily grab them then plop down into a seat (seats with butt warmers). The rest would follow a sort of “normal” library set up. Each group of shelves dedicated to a certain genre, in which the books would be organized by alphabetical order. Oh and of course we can’t forget the lights.
Sep 10
ccfitz's picture

This Utopia

 This Utopia
This waterfall falls in a never-ending cycle, its water pounding on the rocks below it, emitting a steady chorus of thumps.

Its sound attracts birds of all different sizes, colors, and patterns that swoop and fly freely in the air, some leaving white marks on the ground (if you know what I mean…:D). Behind the waterfall is a cave that lets out into a dome-shaped rock face that protects the clearing from light like a curtain of darkness, casting the climbing spot in endless shadow.

Bears cubs and who-knows-what kids play in the water, while their parents stretch(sleep) on the soft green grass, soaking up alllllll the sun and warmth. In this Utopia, waaayyyy before humans came along, the animals can live peacefully without fear of, you know, becoming extinct (well, at least until the meteor:D). 
Sep 09
hazeljade110's picture

growing up

Born with potential. The ability to take control of your life. Make good choices. Be who you choose to be. And be the best you you can be. Your parents watch you grow up and become a young adult. You get the chance to expand your horizons and are encouraged to believe what you want to believe. you are given the right to have opinions, even if you shouldnt share them. You learn when it's the time to say something and you learn the ways of life. You start to have experiences and you learn from those experiences. Growing up shouldn't be scary. It is full of experience, laughter, memories, family, and friends. It is hard sometimes to think about what the future could hold. But you have the opportunity to take advantage of that future. 
“It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.” 

-E. E. Cummings.
Sep 09
nonfiction challenge: Portrait
smcdonough's picture


Evelyn is my best friend. I have seen her in school since my second year of Pre-K. Even though I will be going to Mill River in a year, I will still be her friend, no matter what. When she is in Mill River, I will get to see her. Evelyn is a great friend.She is funny, silly, happy, cheerful,nice, amazing, cool, awesome. She is a great friend.
Aug 31

random thoughts

sometimes i feel like you can just meet someone, like at school or in some other public environment, and you just know that they're going to be your friend. like, you hit it off, you're talking, and then it feels like you've been their friend for years, not a matter of weeks, days, even minutes. that feeling, you know, of being accepted, belonging--it's amazing. new beginnings, everything. i just love it.
sometimes you can learn things about yourself from friends you never would have realized before. for example, making friends with other lgbtq+ people helped me realize last year that i was bi. i probably would have realized this anyway, but learning about other people's experiences as part of the lgbtq+ community definitely helped me along.
Aug 25

Very odd poem on young adulthood

The decrepit trees stick up from the swamp upstairs, discarded hairbrushes with the bristles too brittle and broken. It’s the second doorless frame on the right. The one with fresh green paint sliding down in timid rivers trying to find its future in the right split in wood. The old brushes are doing a horrid job detangling the clouded ceiling, though minimum wage isn’t a big motivator, so the clouds are now curly knotted messes bleached over lonely teenager starch blue, and residue in the waxy leaves freshen fingertips dipping into empty perfume bottles. Grass is the remnants of impulsively cut hair finding itself as a natural depiction of its owner rediscovered, trod on only by others and avoided in conversation. Sunsets and happy mountain hugs hang in crooked unison on the raw wood walls amid years of pin-hole constellations marking them. 

No idea what to title this
Aug 24

A list of things

Im finding out things. 
A list of them, 10 of them, all neatly lined up.

1. Change is hard, it hurts, there are good parts and there are parts where you say fuck this. But there are still good parts. 
2. Breathing is vital in every single moment. No matter the circumstance, no matter how hard it is, if you wanna live, youre gonna have to do it. 
3. The creation of Adam, Sistine Chapel...God is painted inside what looks like a red cloak, but is shaped exactly like a uterus. Which would suggest that God did not create man, that He Himself came from something that is only part of a Woman's anatomy. If you are now questioning your creation and every single person around you...you are not the only one. 
4. Aleeve and Ibuprofen do exactly nothing for a headache that is caused by a sickness you thought you'd defeated. So, you get used to the constant pounding in your head and smile and nod when asked if youre ok. 
Aug 19

Her fragrance of choice is ‘Adventure’

Your eyes; they change color. 

From the brightest blue, like the pond we swam in that day. 
Did you get that from your father?

To the greenest green, like the grass on that summer day, as we laid under the tree. 
Did you get that from your mother?

My home is empty—my heart is empty without you. 

You keep me alive.

Your strands of blonde hair litter the bathroom sink.

Spilled lipgloss on the counter. Coating everything it touches in a sticky layer.

Finger nail polish left out on the table. The cap stuck to the tiny bottle from lack of use, and the crusty nail polish dried underneath.

It’s crazy how much you can miss someone.
It’s crazy how much you can love someone.

What’s crazy is that you’re the reason I smile everyday. 

I hope you come back soon.

Aug 14
ShaytheWriter's picture

Micro Plastics: The Stepping Stones of the Destruction of the World

 “Plastics, it is the magic material! It can be transformed into clothes, bags, pillow and mattress memory foam, bottles, shoes, socks, stationary sets and so on. Almost everything in our lives contains ‘Plastics’. Micro Plastics are plastics made from the process of bigger plastics being broken down. It is usually less than 5mm long. Most people do not recognized the deadly side effects of Micro Plastics. There are uncountable amounts of disasters caused by Micro Plastics. I shall state two side effects of Micro Plastics, and some ways to prevent Micro Plastics from destroying our planet.
Aug 13

Home Again

Last year, I had likely the most amazing experience of my life at a teen Rite of Passage retreat, Adventure Game Theatre. I felt like I could finally be myself and be happy in this amazing community, the best I've ever found. When the first day arrived this year, I was only a little bit nervous. Mostly excited. I'd been waiting for this for a whole year. The only place I could be myself, I felt like, and the place with the greatest community one could find. We ran around barefoot and put on costumes and sang around the fire and cuddled and meditated and played and swore too much and gave lots of great hugs. It wasn't really a normal summer camp, from what I'd heard about most. I wrote in my journal every day to keep the memories alive. Even as for the people I have just met, everyone there felt like family to me after a few days. At first, it was nothing like last year, not meeting my expectations.
Aug 13

Spirit-Filled Sonnetts: Examining Native American Poetry

Native American poetry teaches about culture, values, connection, and spirituality. This specific post analyzes Native American poems and how they approach the topic of spirituality and what it means to them. Bedagi also known as Big Thunder’s unnamed poem quotes: “The Great Spirit is in all things: He is in the air we breathe. The Great Spirit is our father, but the Earth is our Mother. She nourishes us; that which we put into the ground she returns to us.” This poem reveals the humility of Big Thunder and how he believes people ought to take care of Earth. He explains how people are to appreciate what the Earth provides, through a paternal and maternal lens. Dave Chief, the grandfather of Red Dog, quotes: “Respect means listening until everyone has been heard and understood, only then is there a possibility of balance and harmony, the goal of Indian spirituality.” This poetic claim teaches how to accomplish balance and harmony, which are core goals of spirituality.
Aug 13

Revolutionary Responses by Emma Okaty

Abigail and John Adams were both exquisite writers and impactful leaders in Early America. They wrote back and forth often, both looking to each other for support and advice. Abigail Adams has a greater influence over the structure of the nation than one may think. In fact, she often included early ideas about the expansion of women’s rights and expanding education to a greater degree. In one of her letters to John while he was at the Constitutional Convention, she explained: ““If particular care and attention is not paid to the ladies, we are determined to foment a rebellion, and will not hold ourselves bound by any laws in which we have no voice or representation.” To quantify, There are more than 1,160 letters between the two of them, all preserved in the Adams Family Papers of the Massachusetts Historical Society. Their letters display two major themes. Firstly they include many historical events from their own perspectives, such as Washington’s inauguration.
Aug 05
arianaabhari's picture

My Invisible Lion

Aug 02


Jul 30

The Question

Every day, we all get asked the same question.
By friends, family, strangers and co-workers alike.
"How's it going?"
"How is your day?"
I ask it too, and most likely so do you.

It's a pretty strange thing to say.
Because there's only one way we expect someone to reply.
Why ask at all when we already know what'll be said?

Yet we ask it regardless.
And even with this awareness, every time I hear it, I still hesitate.
What should I say?

Do I tell them the truth, even if it's not great?
If it's sad and tragic?
If it's overly happy and braggy?
If it's none of their business?
If I don't want to talk about it?

What should I tell my family?
My friends, strangers, and co-workers?
Do I tell some people the truth, and others lies?

Mind racing with all this.
I just smile and say:
"I'm okay!"

But when I turn and ask them the same question.