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.


Mar 29
wellss's picture

A Transition To Spring

As I step out onto the porch,

a breeze starts twirling through the air,

I close my eyes,

As the breeze picks up the scents of dewy grass,

Blooming flowers, and melting snow.

It passes me like a breath of fresh air,

And I feel the cold surface of the wood at my feet,

The dampness and dryness combine into one.

I step off the porch and onto the rocky pavement,

into the bright sun.

I embrace the warmth as it soaks in my pale skin.

I open my eyes,

And look what’s around me.

A girl who looks about 18,

Rides down the block,

In a old fashion ruby-red bike,

And a lemon-yellow hat.

She has fair skin,

and long blonde hair braided into two,

With blue-green eyes,

That flow into the waves of the ocean.

It’s so mesmerizing to watch her,
Mar 29
tobin's picture

Mud and Old Vermonters

Brown, deep and sticky

Not a place for someone picky
People are always getting stuck

Pulling them out can really suck

Lot of times you get covered in muck

No likes the muck
Some of the mud is two feet deep

Driving through it is quite a feat
When you inevitably get stuck

Just wait for an old man in a truck
No matter what he will know

The perfect way to give you a tow.

Mar 29
clearyj's picture


The cleanliness of his shot absorbs into the polished, wooden floor.
He backs away
Still with his hand in the air
Holding up three digits,

He wipes the sweat off his brow,
And returns to defensive position.
His ears turn red,
Not used to having all the eyes on him.

He falls to the floor,
As he took a perfect charge. 
The foul shot gives him time,
To catch his breath.

He makes both shots.

A tear absorbs into the polished, wooden floor.
Because he knows,
The perfect game won't happen again.
As his high school fantasy only lasts one night.

Mar 26

Bravery in a Mirror

It’s a brave thing to do

To look into a mirror,

staring into those all too familiar eyes,

And not learn to look past the flaws,

But learn to see them all

For what they are,

to give each and every one a name

And still, see someone who is worth loving

staring back at you.

For the first time tonight; I did.

Mar 26
poem 0 comments challenge: Vanilla

Sunlight is what I see in you

You remind me of sunlight. 
Not only in the amber tone of your skin, 
but in your glowing hair and your 
radiant smile. 
When I'm around you it feels like 
I'm touching the sun. 
I'm Icarus and you are the tempting
star, just barely out of reach. 
Sometimes I feel like I can't 
look right at you, for fear 
of losing my sight altogether. 
But I continue to steal glances, 
desperate for one last look. 
Even if it means it will be 
ingrained in my mind
for moments to come.
And yet, even as I 
see you so often 
I fear I'm far away from you. 
But still I bask in the little 
patches of warmth that you give me
when you look happy. 
I exclaim my admiration for the sun. 
It brings me closer. 
Still far away from the sun, for it's impossible 
to touch or to hold. 
But closer. 

Mar 25
poem 4 comments challenge: Frost


I saw a bird, big and red bellied,

On a green stalk of grass, a worm in its beak,

A treat on a morning so gray and bleak,

Savored and brought to a nest for a feast,

So minuscule as it is to a beast. 
Mar 23
poem 2 comments challenge: Frost

A little bee

I found a small and vivid bee
Laughing and sipping from a wildflower
It danced in spirals across the field with each passing hour.
Falling across the rays of sunshine, this creature could only see
The good in the world, because he only knew how to be free.
He found a drop of silver dew that he quickly devoured.
Its fairy wings buzzed upon his back as he flew through the willow's bowers
And alight upon the blooming cherry tree.

Then came the winter's cold decree
And the wind began to sour
He had to run and flee
Leaving scattered leaves of tea
I never saw him in the meadows that had began to deflower
But he left his tall stemmed towers.

Mar 23
zazu's picture

Rainbow at night

An ambulance siren wails through the night,
Its pitch rising and falling in the crisp winter air.
Pedestrians scurry on the sidewalk, many floors below my bedroom window,
And I could wonder:
Where are they going?
What are they thinking?
But I will never know as I sit and gaze out over the city.
The city that never sleeps.
An explosion of light in the darkness,
With shimmering skyscrapers,
And tall buildings, that glow over streets, shedding their light.

I zip up my jacket, and open my apartment door.
My boots tap softly on the hall carpet.
I ride the elevator down to the lobby,
And then go out into the street.
Outside, where the only view is at eye level.

It makes me feel small to know that someone could be looking down at me right now,
The way I looked at them.
Mar 22


Because I am graduating this year it finally hit me that I'd have to leave and I had a crisis about it, so I wrote a poem about it.

I used to be embarrassed to say that I am from Winooski. 
I would lie, hide, do whatever I could to disguise it.
And point out every flaw I could to try to distance myself if I was ever found out. 
As we are honing in on these last few months,
Where soon I will actually have to leave,
I don't want to. 
It has recently dawned upon me how much this school and community has had an impact on who I am and who I will become once my tassel goes right to left and I exit these doors once and for all.
So I suppose I'm writing this as a thank you. 
Thank you to the student body, teachers, administration, everybody that has seen me cry and heard me say hundreds of times that all I want to do is fail and drop out, but then taking me over and over, and helping me succeed. 
Mar 22
fiction 2 comments challenge: Twist
layla.h's picture

A Morning Stroll

It can get so lonely sometimes. These days I’m finding it harder and harder to get out—these old bones won’t last much longer; I know that someday soon I will fade away to nothing—but I can only bear to go so long without seeing the sun. So this morning, I took a walk.

When I first stepped out into the sunshine, I couldn’t help but feel positively overwhelmed by it all—the warmth, the light, the scent of grass and the sound of birdsong; and most of all the memories it brought me. I saw myself in that spring landscape. It was as if I were watching a picture film of my life.

There, just atop that hill, I knelt as a child in my blue Easter dress and inspected the patch of daffodils before me. I would choose the best ones to bring home to my mother. I can still remember the way she smiled and swept me up into her arms when I returned home, careful not to crush the delicate blooms I was clutching in my small fist. Daffodils were her favorite flower.