YWP Content Published in Newspapers

Young Writers Project is most grateful to its eight newspaper partners who publish your work on a regular basis. Weekly: Burlington Free Press and The Valley News. Monthly: St. Albans Messenger, Brattleboro Reformer, Rutland Herald (and Reader), Times Argus (and Extra), Bradford Journal Opinion and Charlotte News.

The papers have a combined circulation of nearly 75,000 and the papers are read by well over 150,000 people.

YWP staff, volunteers and Community Leaders from this site help select work.  If you'd like to help with this process, contact Susan Reid.


Jan 15
Reillys's picture

Earliest memory

     I remember watching and wanting to run. I remember running and wanting to win. I remember winning silver. I remember smiling and celebrating. I remember seeing my name in the newspaper. But I remember that after the euphoria wore off, I promised myself that next time I would win gold.  

Jan 11
diont's picture

Birthday Party

My earliest memory is stored in the back of my brain, shrouded in a mist.

My earliest memory is foggy, I can only see a blurry vision when I think of it.

My earliest memory is from a long time ago, on what seems like my cousin’s birthday.

I can see lit birthday candles, with flickering flames waiting to be blown out.

There are balloons too, lots of different colors of them, floating in the air.

I can barely remember a slice of cake on a paper plate, with a layer of sweet frosting on top.

I don’t see much when I think of it, everything is cloudy, but I do clearly remember one thing.

My earliest memory is surrounded by a sense of complete happiness.

Jan 11
ailuro's picture


Peering from beneath my dark lashes
The ashes are settling down.
The world swirls around me
A blink
A universe
I am right
But I think
I left a long
Time ago.
My movements
From yesterday
Ripple the ephemeral air
Around me
And I wonder
If I will
Be on time
In this paradigm.
Words catch in my
Blinking back tears
I can only wait
And squeeze them out
Too late.

Jan 10
zazu's picture


The sun had smiled down on you, 
But not kindly.
It burned your face with a hard fire, as you worked outside all day.
It left it's mark,
A scorching red that ran from your neck up to your forehead.

As I imagine an eskimo out in the Artic, their nose irritated and frost bitten with the cold.
You work tirelessly every day, you where your wounds without shame.
I wish everyone did that.
I wish everyone excepted eachother's differences, instead stead of freting over their neighbors imperfections.
But it isn't enough to wish...
In a night without stars.
Jan 10

Rays of Sunshine

I lift my hand to the sky
Reaching for the clouds,
But I fall short and
Instead reach just above you head.
I am persistent and try again
This time I pull down the rays of sun.
The light plays between my fingers
The feeling of joy and happiness
Pulses through like a heartbeat.
I look around me and through the veils of light
I see grey, all color is gone, instead sadness lives in place.
Taking one last look I release the sun and spread happiness
To the places it hasn’t lived before
I watch in wonder as the world fills with colors
Brighter than before.

Jan 10
thelightb49's picture

Paper Airplanes

All of it folds together like a paper airplane,

You live your life unfolding new pieces of paper,

Except the paper is a new light

Guiding you through life.

You have to take the bad things and fold them into place,

You have to accept the intolerable things that you have done

You must fold them away,

Saying farewell.

You have to fold every year that passes

And unfold a new year

Saying goodbye to the past,

And saying hello to the present.

Every fold you make is a part of your life forever

Except the fold is a decision or memory.

You will remember every fold you make,

Thinking about how it made an impact on your life.

You will teach others how to fold their paper airplanes,

Having them learn from your mistakes.

And when we start to live our final days.
Jan 10
laurenwwright's picture

A Voice in the Night

I lie, half asleep on the chocolate brown couch,
Hearing nothing but the small breaths escaping from
the pink crib across the room.
I let my eyes fall heavy and drift off into sleep.

Shortly after, I find my body jerk up right on the couch,
my ears searching for a sound, like a dog.
I peek through the windows, scanning the property.
I hear faint cries between the rings,
and dart towards the crib to find nothing but a folded pink blanket.

I search for my phone,
but can’t seem to remember where I had placed it.
I follow the faint cries, leading upstairs,
when I turn the corner I see her face,
with her eyes squeezed tight and her mouth wide.
Within a second she’s gone.
The walls are gone, the stairs are gone,
the noise is gone, everything is gone.
I wake in the crisp of the morning sun,
on the chocolate brown couch.
I look across the room and see a small face
Jan 09
poem 1 comment challenge: 70°
isgro-su's picture

Ms. 70°

They say she’s the nicest,

They call her perfect.

They say she is the only one who

Can make you truly happy.

She’s been around along time,

And yet she still is young.

She will be with us more often in the future,

Ms. 70°.
Her hair is the wind,

Long, soft, and wavy,

A soft summer breeze.

Her limbs are the tree boughs,

Long, spindly and browned,

Reaching up towards the sun.

Her gown is the grass,

Long, green, and fresh,

Flowing over hills.

Her face is the sun,

Shining, bright, and brilliant,

A warm glow.

Ms. 70°.
Personally, I prefer her cousin,

Miss -20°.

She goes skiing over mountains of cold,

And snowshoeing though forests of wind.

She’s a rough’n tough’n girl,

Young and spunky she is.
Jan 08
JbauerH's picture


Jack Hastings

She was beautiful,
but in a different sort of way.
She was like a musical.
A melody that never goes away.

That picture in your head,
you could never replace.
The words you never said,
which made her go away.

She was like a match that spread,
an illuminus light.
That went out in the end.
Still the future's bright.

One day you will transcend,
and move on from the night.
Then you will see,
when you find your light.

Jan 08
poem 0 comments challenge: Memory
kilburng1's picture


I look up

I spot something interesting out of the corner of my eye

The sounds of grocery carts surrounds me 

The isles abundant in intriguing things tower above


I turn in a circle

People around me with shopping carts race through the isles 

Grocery bags swing by my face 

Everyone focused on getting what they need

Getting what they want

Getting to the checkout line as fast as possible

Panic rises in me

I start to cry

“There you are,” my mom says, “don’t run away like that again.”