A civil, creative space for youths to write, share meaningful feedback and work with mentors and artists in informal learning groups.

You aren't signed in! Log on to see and do more.

To Join, you must provide us accurate info that is not shared but is verified before account is activated.


 

Reid's picture

Winter Tales!

Congratulations to the writers whose poetry and stories were selected by Vermont Stage Company to be performed at the 10th annual Winter Tales at FlynnSpace in Burlington, Dec. 10-14: Jadyn Jacobs, Emily Weatherill, Haley Noel, Sophia St. John-Lockridge, Patrick Herrin, Milo Wilcox, Kaila Skeet Browning, Sally Matson, Samuel Boudreau, Sofia Spano, Noah Sanderson, Holly Ray Sherrer, Frances Kaplan and Eleanor Braun! | More information about Vermont Stage Company's Winter Tales! | Click for tickets

Check out the schedule of performances and read the winning submissions!

Read more »

AttachmentSize
Winter.Tales_.2014.pdf128.12 KB
»
pianolady's picture

thanks

thanks for 

toppling over the dead and broken pine tree

that I was,

and working the wood into a magic wand Read more »

»
admin's picture

November Issue of The Voice

Have you read the new issue of The Voicew? YWP's collection of the best writing and photography from the 2013-14 school year.

Special thanks to Morgan Quimby of Mount Mansfield Union High School for the beautiful cover photo!

 

WANT TO BUY A PRINTED COPY? Go to: http://youngwritersproject.org/anthology6

And we have a Design Challenge! Create a logo for The Voice! Graphics, sketches, whatever! Color or black and white! Send one or multiple submissions.

Read more »

»

Outrage on Pluto

 

The Letter

 

“Meeting, meeting!” The Head of Interplanetary Interactions burbles over the loudspeaker. 600 ears swivel silently towards the small speaker on their walls. “We have received a letter!” The loudspeaker blares. 900 eyes bulge. 200 mouths begin to chatter and bubble and cough and squeak quietly. The Head of Interplanetary Interactions on Pluto is a silent, dusty old man who hadn’t been heard from in 50 years (when a small rock crashed on the planet). The Identifier of Foreign Objects was called in and established that the rock was not a message from another planet. Then, all the 100 people of Pluto had gone home, sorely disappointed.

“Silence!” the loudspeaker commanded. The planet suddenly went deadly quiet, and the people froze to hear the next announcement. “Meet at the grandstand in 20 minutes!” The gravelly voice crackled, and the ominous click of the speakers being turned off was heard. For several seconds after, the citizens all were still, imagining what might have happened. Read more »

»

Letter to My Parents

Dear Mom and Dad,

I think that we have a pretty good relationship already, considering that I am a teenage girl and you are both far from your teenage years. We argue; sure. But I’d like to meet a family similar to our own without any conflict. No family is perfect. That aside, the purpose of this letter, though I’m not sure if you’ll ever read it, is to thank you for all that you’ve done for me. You both obviously contributed to bringing me into this world, which I am very thankful for. You fed me, changed my diapers--as horrendous a task that must have been, and also read to me. I remember almost every night, one of you would come upstairs with me and help me pick out a book. I remember this ritual very fondly, and it has probably helped me have a better understanding of words today. Read more »

»
So-Euro's picture

oceans - a poem on stigma.

this is the silence of your lover’s waning back,

and moonlight on nail and bone.

this is an ocean of unsaid words;

this is ink sinking past your palate,

sliding across your tongue, down your throat,

making you taste the last words

you ever said to him.

this is tar beneath battered pores

and flesh the color of evening sky,

and these are the hopes and fears

and suicidal dreams

of the people who capsized like ships

to unseen hurricanes.

be silent, for this moment,

and let me tell you of their pain.

_

she

walks with marks

of a suicide victim on her arms.

and suicide

is something that you would assume.

but what you don’t understand

is that she knows what it’s like Read more »

»
Bruinslove47's picture

My Guardian Angel

She's my guardian angel 

looking out for me

I owe her my life

shes always there for me

 

Looking out for me

I feel I'm not good enough

She's always there for me

I feel she deserves better

 

I feel I'm not good enough

She's promised she won't leave

I feel she deserves better

She insists there's no one better then me Read more »

»

The Blue Door

The Blue Door

This morning was just another normal day, but I had a feeling that it wouldn’t end up the way I expected. I brushed my long blond hair and put on my favorite neon pink t-shirt. Then I did other morning things and headed out the door.

It was cold and windy, but the blue skies were bright and filled with white fluffy clouds. Just another gorgeous winter day in Vermont. But today was different. I wasn’t really sure why either, until I walked by the small gray shed behind the baseball field on my way to school. There was a blue door. I had an overwhelming feeling that it wasn’t there yesterday. As a matter of fact, I know it wasn’t there yesterday. Read more »

»
zeusfireair's picture

rrrraddddddioooo Withhh ROLANDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Hello Everybody! This is my latest and greatest work, A radio show called Radio With Roland.  I have been working on writing the script for this for two months now. It's a part of my college application to Bennington College. Read more »

»

Where is it?

Simplistic beauty,

like the oxygen that fuels our existence, we only notice the absence and not the presence.

Once upon a time similarities made friendly strangers,

and looking out the window was the best form of procastination. 

Now rustic arches beaming of human creation,

are useless things of the past.

Rich mountains protruding into the warm embrace of morning light, 

are only noticed by an amount of 'likes'.

And trees are only treasured in forms of Benjamins and Franklins. Read more »

»
jacketbundock's picture

Some Other Time

 

There's something about tonight.

 

We can destroy ourselves some other time,

but for now

let our bloodstreams course together,

let the sounds of lightning bug fires pulse in our ears.

We'll wake up the sparks in our minds with electricity of humidity-

let the needles of grass awaken our tendons.

 

Wait until we feel something in the night,

until we are hazed

and you are as in love with you as

I am.

Let us melt into life until we

are stateless- Read more »

»
Syndicate content