The Voice, YWP's Premiere Publication



Each month, Young Writers Project publishes the best work -- words, images and sound -- of this community. This premiere publication features writing from community members from all over the world and reaches 15,000 individual IP addresses a month, a good deal more than 15,000 humans who spend a lot of time reading AND they come back to finish! Help us get more readers! Spread the word -- and the link: https://youngwritersproject.org/thevoice -- on social media, on your email signature, in emails to friends!

The selections for this magazine are made by YWP staff, volunteer professionals, mentors and Community Leaders on the site. If you'd like to participate, contact Susan Reid. 

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Nov 07

Just Me


I've learned to worship insignificance. 
After all,  
clouds were never meant to be seen.

Brown paper in a bottle
with blotchy ink spilled across it.

Broken shoelaces and wandering hearts.

I was not built to fly.
After all, the stars were never made for me:
I was made for them.

Pocket-sized notebooks
were meant to be filled with
spilled-soul-shatterings
but they were made
equally as worthy
Oct 20
H20.hollym's picture

Dear Nama

Dear Nama,
I prefer not to think of the day
when you aren't there to scold me 
for eating the cookie dough,
or worrying about pointless things.
To rub my shoulders
when I need a break
and pull me along
to walk the fields with you.

But the truth surfaces
with every one of your off-balance steps
that yank your hand from mine,
taking you from me
for just
a moment.

I know you have a while left,
Oct 07
haleyseymour's picture

my world

you are my entire world.
the blazing sun
rising early in the morning to kiss my skin.
the sun that sets low in the evening
providing beautiful tones of citrus orange and magical magenta.
the garden across the street,
gorgeous colors popping out and capturing my undivided attention.
the warm comforter on my bed,
awakening me and providing me with comfort and safety.
finally,
the moon,
glowing bright in a sky full of darkness,
Oct 05

Writing Solo

Writing Solo

Taken at the YWP Winter Conference, 2017. 
Oct 04
Icarus Blackmore's picture

Buzz.

My phone buzzes,
I reach for it,
Then I stop.
I don't want to look.

It buzzes again,
The screen goes bright,
I pause bitting my lip,
My hands tremble.

This isn't normal,
I've said it before,
So much so that,
It's gotten repetitive.

I should grab my phone,
Lurch for it,
Eyes lighting up,
Eager to text my friend.

Instead I just stare at it,
Because now,
When it buzzes,
Oct 03

i'm sorry, chrysanthemum

Dead.
You should’ve been dead when I found you.

I struggled to see as
snowflakes clung to my lashes,
obstructing my view,
but still, I saw you screaming
for help in technicolor,
against the black and white of
the January world.

Between drifts of snow
you reached up with shriveled, green arms,
to grasp a hand,
any hand.

I could tell you were on your last leg.
Your golden petals lay on the snow
Oct 02

Routine

Mom and Dad
Were fighting again.
After a long day of classes,
I walked
Into the kitchen
To hear them screaming.
It was already dark out,
So I just wanted to sleep.
I walked passed them,
No greeting muttered out.
The dog was in the lounge,
A torn pillow at its feet.
Probably the source
Of the conflict.
I walked upstairs
Without bothering to clean up.
At the end of the hall,
I heard my brother's music:
Oct 01

Teen Writer

You can find her words
s
 c
  a
   t
    t
     e
      r
       e
        d
         across the page
and her tears
r
 u
  n
   n
    i
     n
      g
       the ink
when she doesn't know what else to do
after you break her like a pencil.
 
Sep 29

life up close

Sep 29

Literary Torture


I sit here in English class
With a tightness in the Upper part of my mouth
a Lodging of Pain that I can hardly Breath around 
I'm TrYing not to cry.

You're Killing my favorite thing.
Systematically pulling a story Apart,
then Cramming it into a Box and Stamping on a grade.
Close Reads.

I'm exhausted by the Mental tension
between the "Good Student"
who Wants to complete the Analytical assignment 
Sep 29
telavigne's picture

temporary

you were temporary

a slow moving butterfly

flying across my yard

staying for the prettiest flowers

the open beating sun

the long grass

but

you didn’t stay

through the rain

the thunder

or even

a slight breeze

 
Sep 29
whatever's picture

the daily ritual

Mom. Give me space. You’re sUFFOCATING ME. I’m not allowed to go places with my friends anymore because, yes, I’ve made some questionable choices in the past, but I’m a teenager! All teenagers are a little irresponsible! Let me live woman! If you continue to try to “protect me” I’m going to go to college and go absolutely crazy! I know, I know, it’s because you want me to be safe, you care about me, blaahh blaahh blaaaahhh.
Sep 27
poem 1 comment challenge: Fractured
Nightheart's picture

Fairy Tale


As I learned long ago,
Life is not a fairy tale,
You are not a princess,
Kissing frogs won't get you a prince,
it will give you warts.
If you lose your shoe at midnight,
You're probably drunk,
and kidnapping is dangerous,
you should not mess with a Beast,
Never trust a boy with a feather in his cap,
and with long hair also comes
split ends.
Mermaids probably don't exist,
If they do they probably'll
die of polution.
Sep 27
Lily's picture

Flying with no directions


I’m flying with no directions, scared and alone.

Flying in circles darkness surrounds me.

A ringing in my head sounds like a telephone.

I want a light to stop this madness.

I can’t see.

Show me that golden light again.

I want to see faces again.

Dreams are nightmares,

People’s faces, gone

Where is my life?

Is it thrown away or is it just lost in the darkness?
Sep 26

As I Stand on This Hill Looking West

As I stand on this hill looking West
at you, America--
or what will soon become you--
I am overwhelmed by the beauty before my eyes.

Your lands are so vast,
your fertile ground so resplendent
with roses the color of the blood of those with brown skin.
You remember what we sow
and it grows with a fragrance strong enough
to mask the scent of four thousand rotting bodies
buried beneath the hills of Oklahoma. 
Sep 26

I'd rather you didn't


Don’t call me beautiful, instead tell me I’m the cutest boy you’ve ever met.
Don’t talk about my body, talk about me.
Don’t tell your friends you got yourself a sexy girl, tell your friends you got a dashing boy.
I am your dashing boy.
There is no girl, I think it's safe to say there never was.
Sep 25

Laced Through Her Fingertips

She spent her life folded between the pages of books.
Words clenched tightly in her fists.
Her beauty laced through her fingertips.

Her name hid her story.
Unnoticed, she endured.
She was a name on a page,
a face in the crowd.
No one noticed the beauty laced through her fingertips.

She ruled over kingdoms of isolation.
Spending her passing moments in thought, 
disconnected and rejected from the world.
Sep 24

A Conversation of Sorts

On a table, facing a large window, two persons of differing character find themselves in the ridiculous circumstance of being together.

Said the pen to the pencil, “How well you collect dust with that frown of yours.”

“I’m tired.” The pencil rubbed its nose and coughed. “I’m sick.”

“Sickness because of exhaustion or exhaustion because of sickness?”
Sep 21

Amen

I wish 
I knew
The loss
Of a
Broken heart
Like you
Did. 

I wish
I prayed
For you
Like the
Rest of
Them did. 

I wish 
I held
On harder
Until my
Knuckles turned
White like
Everyone else
Did. 

I wish
We had
Gotten to
Say our
Final Goodbyes
Like we
Planned I
Would. 

But nothing
Ever goes
Right for
Me because