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Young Writers Project is grateful to, a nonprofit news operation in Vermont, for publishing selected YWP writing, art and photos each week. Please support the young writers and artists by going to and leaving a comment. 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 YWP Executive Director Susan Reid.

Jan 01
LGPug's picture

The Sparrow

Flapping down to human nest
Chirping as lies down to rest
A child shrieks and smiles, aloof
Sparrow hops up onto roof
Child grins and reaches high
Sparrow hovers in the sky
Child waits – looks up with love
Till young sparrow floats down from above
Child laughs – reaches to pet
Sparrow cocks his head to let
Child reaches to touch new friend
Till bigger creature puts to end
Child cries as sparrow flies
But sparrow chirps to say goodbye
Dec 21
poem 1 comment challenge: Tomorrow
joseph.deffner's picture


Tomorrow I hope my mind won’t stray way and find a place to trap my thoughts.

Tomorrow I hope I will have fun–find joy and excitement.

Tomorrow I hope I can find time to relax, to let my soul run wild.

Tomorrow I hope my dog will bring me comfort and will curl up by my side.

Tomorrow I hope I will find time to read, to send myself to the world of books.

Tomorrow I hope to write, to let my hands chose what to say.

Tomorrow I hope to see my friends, to let their voices flow through my mind.

Tomorrow I hope to play basketball, to let my feet carry my in the patterns they find so familiar. 

Tomorrow I hope to draw, to let my hands show my eyes what to see.

Tomorrow I hope to sing, to let my voice travel the world through music.

Tomorrow I hope to be present in the world to be seen and heard.  
Dec 16
poem 2 comments challenge: Tomorrow
ViolaLover9's picture

Me, a poet, and a ballerina

Tomorrow I hope the clocks all stop, 
and as the hands slowly tick-tock their way to a halt,
the rest of the world follows their lead.
And it's like the first snow of the year, 
instead of the 10,000th rain.
Everything just pauses, 
and the earth feels comfortable in its silence,
at home in its magnitude.
I hope everyone freezes except me, a poet, and a ballerina.
For once, my short strides don't keep me straggling behind anyone else 
as I pad through the resting world on slippered feet
side-stepping parents waving to a stationary school bus, 
dodging careening bicyclists mid-signal with outstretched arms. 
I walk until I reach a theatre where a ballerina pirouettes, 
floating under the stage lights as she jumps and lands, 
her pointy shoes scuffing silently on the stage, 
trampolining illuminated dust particles which amble through the air,
awkwardly dancing with her.
Dec 11

lighting the tree

blinking at me
weary from their year long slumber
I look up 
at the dark green 
pine scented 
and smile
from my position on the floor
it looks like I could be in a forest
with a sky made of cream, ceiling paint, clouds
and a small fluorescent sun
the lights blink again
and one burns out 
leaving us behind
never again to see 
presents nestled beneath it's pine branch perch
I unscrew it 
and put it aside
sighing when I see all the others 
that need to retire
from their joy bringing posts
upon our christmas tree
I choose another string of lights 
and am very pleased 
to find all in working order
soon, they will be gently tucked into the greenery 
and nestled next to their ornament compadrés 
among an occasional candy cane
until they are all wrapped around the tree
igniting the fire of christmas 
and feeding it joy


Some more digital art.
Was playing around, trying to draw faces- these are my favorites.
Dec 03

Only words will last

Rules of verse, prose and rhyme
careful measures, line for line.
What will withstand the trial of time
and fires of our sorrow?

Cloth will rip and buildings fall,
yesteryears machines are no use to us all.
But a phrase scribbled hastily on the wall
will still be there tomorrow.

The stories and songs of all that was achieved
of things we discovered — and that we had to leave.
There's no telling what we will be asked to believe,
the future requires a past.

And what will remain when we're finally gone?
Take note of the times you've been right and wrong,
write down your stories, your thoughts and your songs,
for only words will last.
Nov 19


Pick a card, any card.
Cheap tricks are your 
specialty, anyway. 
I'd like a disappearing act-
maybe this time 
I'll know not to 
wait for you to come back. 
Maybe this time I 
won't search for you like a key-
the only lock you have is
somewhere down in 
Hades' land. 
Show me your best poker face-
I'll see the lies
creasing near your nose, 
and maybe this time 
I'll know not to chase after
you on the pavement. 
Pull a rabbit from your hat-
better yet, pull 
an apology from your mouth.
Possibly containing a typo. 
Maybe this time 
I'll see that the worst thing 
I can say is, 
So go on now, 
do your tricks. 
Find whatever you need 
in the applause. Filter
out the boo's. 
Laugh, maybe. Smile to 
yourself. Above all, 
do whatever you do 
that makes you 
forget I was ever more 
Nov 10
activist_love's picture


Number one
Make sure
You are perfect
No quirks
No flaws

Number two
Make sure
You are normal
You're blonde
You're short

Number three
Make sure
You are balanced
Make sure you are skinny
Make sure you have curves

Number four
Make sure
You are popular
Always pretty
Always flawless 

Number five
Make sure
You are confident
No insecurities 
No shallowness 

Oh whoops
Another oop
Looks like I broke all the rules again
Nov 08

I Wish For The Galaxies

I wish to eat the moon
To feel it's smooth, cold-pudding like taste on my tongue.
It would slip around my mouth like a cool cheesecake,
Like milk chocolate.
It would quench my hunger with the easiness and softness of a spoon of oatmeal,
Washed down with a glass of milk.

I wish to drink the stars
To taste them dripping down my throat
Warm and foggy as hot chocolate
On a cold winter's evening.
Each sticky-smooth drop would ease through my body,
Relaxing me,
Soothing me.

I wish to eat the grandest meal ever eaten,
Sitting upon Venus's rings,
Watching the world spin around
And around. 
Watching a shooting star zip through the sky.
I'd catch it in my fingers
And gulp it down
Bright and spicy as a piece of shrimp,
Then close my eyes and float down along the Milky Way, in a bed as smooth as a snowdrift. 

I wish to spread my hands through the galaxies,


was messing around with digital art, when this just apeared from my scribles, and I was like oh, I made thingy.

honest beauty.

Oct 31

Blue Bird

On my trip to the Grand Canyon, I spotted many animals and captured some photos that I became very proud of; this is one of them. On a trail at the cliff's edge, I saw this blue bird hopping and moving quickly from spot to spot. I took at least 20 pictures of this same bird in all different places. Many people were looking at me crazily while I waddled around to catch the perfect shot. Finally, I took this photo and was instantly shocked that I could capture something so beautiful. I am posting this picture to show this small animal's beauty and elegance. 
Oct 23

An Inspirational Adventure

I have always had a huge passion for wildlife, but when I first got my camera, my world brightened. Photography is an art that can be so moving and inspirational for me. This past year I went on a trip with my family to the Grand Canyon. The sites were so captivating and beautiful. The photo with the man in it was actually by chance. I saw this man on the edge of a cliff looking out to the canyon below and had to take a picture. Now, when I look at the picture I find deeper meanings behind it. I now see someone looking out into their future and seeing beauty. The picture of the crow was taken when a swarm of crows kept creeping towards my family's table while we tried to eat. I got many pictures of different crows, but this one stuck with me. 
Oct 22
Burnt Black Petals's picture


Once I saw a pebble

Small and smooth.

I walked around it.

Next I saw a rock

It could fit in my hand nicely

It’s smooth surface pleasing.

I walked around it.

Then I saw a rock

As big as my head

It’s smooth surface cracked in a few places

It seemed heavy and awkward.

I walked around it.

I found a small boulder

Big and heavy

Half smooth half not

Heavy and solid

A daunting rock.

I walked around it.

I saw a boulder blocking my way.

I could not go around it.

I tried to move it

With no luck.

I saw it sigh, and roll down the hill.

I saw a pebble.

I remembered the bolder.

I picked it up.

Oct 18

Rogue train

There is a train that carries everyone through this life.
Some people are sleeping, some have to look out the window,
a few others mutter in tentative conversation with each other.
But most... most people are engrossed in their phones.
Texting, calling, watching, listening, streaming, memorizing, obsessing.
There are old people, there are young people.
There are people who see things in black and white,
there are people who like rainbow.
People wander in and out, but never leaving the train.
They are in control, no one leaves the train.
This is not spoken but it is the rule.
I know this rule like the back of my hand,
like my shoes, like my past... because it is my past.
There are no choices on the train.
No argument, therefore nothing changes, but I hopped off that train.
I didn't think others should control where I went and when.
No one has a right to my future but me.
Oct 18
Noquell_21's picture

Lifeless winter

Winter is not about doing basic things like building snowmen with your friends or sipping hot chocolate by an open fire. Winter is about the simple things you can enjoy, like admiring that perfect little flake of snow that landed on your hand and watching it slowly melt away until it’s just a tiny water droplet slithering its way down your hand. Or when you are waiting for the school bus and you take a long breath of fresh crisp air and exhale to see the beautiful hazy white veil of your carbon dioxide slowly appear in front of you. Watching your favorite maple tree that is at the center of your back yard lose it’s very last vivid red leaf, then looking around to realize that all of the beautiful reds and oranges and yellows are gone, only to be replaced by the blinding white blanket of snow that stretches as far as the eye can see.

fall drive

Oct 10
Grace._.'s picture

One Haunted Night

I can’t remember the last time I felt safe traveling down Webster Avenue. There was just such an eerie, cold feeling when I would drive by. In most neighborhoods one sees children riding bikes, dogs being walked, and old ladies tending to their gardens. None of this ever happened on “Wacky Webster” as the locals call it. You’d never see anyone outside, which made it look abandoned. The only thing that signified that anyone still lived there was when the lights were turned on at night. I swear the people that live on Webster Avenue must be nocturnal or something. If you dare to drive by at night, almost every single light in the neighborhood is turned on. I made the mistake of doing exactly that one crisp October night. The wind was howling and so was my dog, riding shotgun in my Chevy Silverado. He knew he had to go to the vet, so he was trying to make me feel guilty. It didn’t work though.
Oct 07
22donam's picture

origami city

lovely, oh it'd be so lovely
if you would come with me
well take a trip you'll see
down to a place so pretty
to origami city--

my fickle hearted friend
it's just around the bend
so won't you come with me--

we can run past white paper houses
as if they'd blow away
and climb the tallest skyscraper
you and I--

oh wouldn't it be pretty
down in origami city
where we can watch the stars 
from our tiny paper cars
as they flicker above--

temperamental pal won't you stick around for a while
I bet I can make you smile
if you trust me 
you will see
we can be--

so wouldnt it be pretty 
down in origami city
just you and me--