Content published by

Young Writers Project is grateful to, a nonprofit news operation in Vermont, for publishing selected YWP work each week. The news organization loves sound and images so feel free to include those in your posts! (Use the audio recorder on your blog form under ADD MEDIA.) Please support the writers by going to and leaving a COMMENT.: Click here.

These pieces are selected for publication by YWP Staff, mentors and this site's Community Leaders. If you wish to participate in the selection, contact Susan Reid.


Mar 30
nikki.crouse's picture

A House With No Windows

No way for anyone to look in,
to tell if it was light or dark inside.
No way to tell if things were quiet and still,
or if the house was about to explode.

If one wanted to see inside, they could,
but only if they had a key.
And that key, of course,
came from the owner.

And she was picky,
some would say too picky.
But why would anyone allow someone inside their house?
Mar 26

Remembering You

What I remember of you is very little.
I was young when you passed.
I remember when you gave me,
a five year old,
four lollipops.
Your reasoning?
"two in each hand
so you don't lose balance 
and fall over"

I remember you at your husband's wake.
You cried over his casket
it was "the worst day of your life"
as you said.
It was soon forgotten.

I remember visiting you.
You offered us icecream and I felt
Mar 22
clearyj's picture

The Roof

I watch 
As the sunlight dips 
Behind the greenish-gold mountains.
And I try to ignore the
Responsibilities tugging 
In the back of my mind

I am hypnotized by the roof of my garage,
But I am not looking at it.
I am staring at it without a meaning.

I am not looking at the roof
I am just resting my eyes
On a not-too-bright
With a bountiful amount of bumps.

I am thinking.
Mar 08
wondering about rain's picture

Electric Galaxy

City floating in the black inky sky,
I see you as I fly by. 
Each light adds to the galaxy 
Of stories and lives. 
I imagine jumping into
The darkness forever falling up
Into the night sky reflected below. 
Maybe its an ocean with 
Strange creatures busy flowing
With the undertow. 
Im a space traveler observing without
Really seeing,
But I can still feel each being. 
Pockets of life shown by lights. 
Mar 03
Icarus Blackmore's picture


“Pay attention to how you act,
We develop habits in our youth."
My eighth grade teacher claimed,

“Even if it’s not healthy,
I still eat everything on my plate.”
He explained, “Because that’s,
What I’m used to,
I don’t feel right if don’t,
That’s how I was taught to behave,
And now the habit’s engrained.”

“So I ask you to pratice,
That habit of a postive mind.
Just try and look at the world,
Feb 21

but i did

the first time i felt unsafe in school
was because someone vandalized my homework.
it was crudely scratched and hasty,
but a deliberate "asian" across my math.
i didn't want to go back,
but i did.

the second time i felt unsafe in school
was Sandy Hook.
all i could think about was children
screaming and crying
wanting to know what was happening
and why it was.
i thought of how they wanted their parents
Jan 24


i sit
at the sunny cafeteria
table eating
a peaunt butter and jelly
to my friends discuss
poltics, anthony ramos's new album,
our new english assignment.

our proximity to each other
makes it possible to
hear one another
over the dull roar of
student chatter.

they go over
our president's latest stupid tweet,
the school dance, new classes.

i do not speak much,
Jan 24

Easy things can be harder than hard things

I am told: 
Who I should be
Who I shouldn't be
Who I should talk to
Who I shouldn't talk to
What I should do
What I shouldn't do
What I am
What I am not
When I can talk
When I can't talk
When I can
When I can't
Where I should 
Where I shouldn't 
Where I can
Where I can't
How I should act
How I shouldn't act
How I should 
How I shouldn't
Jan 21

Dying World

The world is dying,
the people crying,
as if they weren't the ones
who held the guns. 

Put that oil in the water,
atmosphere getting hotter,
millions of trees hit the ground,
a world-wide nervous breakdown.

All we care about is a selfie,
who looks the most like Barbie,
whose teeth are whiter,
whose dress is tighter.

Just say it will be fine. 
Pretend we aren't running out of time.
Jan 15
eulusivepurplepanda's picture

Acceptable- an open letter to the president

Dear Mr. Trump, 

​Well, here we are again! I've come to complain. A white, middle class, teenage girl. Writing to you: An orange, 1%, seventy-year-old man who also happens to be my President. 
​Here we go. 

George Washington owned slaves. He was publicly excused because he helped found the country and was a gentleman. 
Though I, and most others are still mad about the slaves, we still study him in school.
Dec 02


Nov 28

interest in the pig snorts

you think my hair is strange,
just because it isn’t straight and regular.
you think my nose is too wide,
and long,
and not proportioned in any direction it goes.
you think my eyes are plain
and not interesting,
not in the slightest.
you think
that my laugh sounds like a pig snorting.
but I think that my hair is good hair.
I think that my nose isn’t too wide or long.
I don’t think my eyes are plain.
Audio download:
Nov 06
Kittykatruff's picture

The Beautiful Inevitable

How beautifully the brush of existence
Sweeps across the broad canvas of the sky,
Leaving streaks of colors
in compliance
With the whispered wish of watching eyes.
Raising a harmonious symphony,
The birds cradle joy and sadness in song;
As ink-black darkness spreads infinitely,
Light slips from the sky, but not for too long—
I catch my reflection in the window,
And watch the twinkling stars dance in my eyes;
Oct 25


I can't seem to find
the name for this feeling,
it's somewhere between
melancholy and nostalgia.

I know that you and I
are not similar enough
to stay the way we were,
and I don't really want to be
constantly by your side anymore.

But I miss the way we were
and I wish we could
go back to then
when we were inseparable.

We'd go on adventures
through the woods,
pretend there were people
Oct 20
poem 1 comment challenge: Rain
emilytrage's picture

One Stormy Eve

The hour presents itself in shades of grey
Rusted leaves replacing the blossoms of May
My footsteps crunch against gravel and stone
As I tiredly wend my way home.

The rain wastes no time in tumbling down
Collecting on flowers and soaking the town
Clinging to shoes, then socks, then barefeet
As I follow the lonely street.

I watch in wonder as the river swells
Audio download:
One Stormy Eve.m4a
Oct 20

Good Morning

6:00 a.m.
My eyelids split open;
The sticky sleep,
Peeling slowly off me.  
My eyes adjusted
To the damp darkness.

6:06 a.m.
I found myself
Exiting my bed.
Scooping up my
Pile of school clothes
Off the ground.
I stood up,
And slammed my head
On the edge of my dresser.

6:08 a.m.
The dull throbbing
In my head
Finally quelled.
I hoped the
Red curse words
Oct 17


Editor's Note: This piece is featured on 

9:50 pm
a starlit city on the
dawn of october,
burned red with bar signs
and stop lights.

on this night in Sin City
steam rose from the
floor of the concrete jungle.
predators prowled, prey lurked.
metal vines swung from construction sites,
sun and moon peered between buildings to cast
Sep 20

Casual Racism With a Side of Language Based Angst

In an attempt to delete an audio recording that I wasn't satisfied with, I ended up deleting the post as whole thinking it meant deleting the changes I had made previously.  My bad.  This is just a repost, where nothing has changed from the original.  My apologies for causing any confusion.

I was sitting among tiny green blades of grass,
listening to a chaotic symphony
of loudspeakers
and bubbling voices.

I was sitting under a rosy sky