Young Writers Project is an independent nonprofit that engages Vermont and New Hampshire students to write, helps them improve and connects them with authentic audiences in newspapers, before live audiences and on websites, youngwritersproject.org, vtdigger.org, vpr.net, medium.com and cowbird.com. YWP also publishes a digital magazine, The Voice. YWP is supported by this newspaper and foundations, businesses and individuals who recognize the power and value of writing.
Roman Glory
All roads lead to Rome.
All lives meet the same eventuality.
The universal route is a footbridge,
a one-man path.
Humans march down the highway,
but each chooses where to place his feet;
while all travelers perish,
individuality proudly remains.
Careful—
Run and you might fall.
The road hangs by a thread
that frays with the force of each step.
In time, the ropes will snap,
and the bridge will always fall.
The inky waters below
will briefly stir, then settle.
But still we forge onward,
despite what looms,
eyes straining,
head high,
searching for Rome.
The Day the Balloons Were Tied Down
The day the balloons were tied down
was the same day the clouds came in to stay.
They needn’t part to let any balloons into the heavens
on the day the balloons were tied to the earth.
The day the balloons were tied down,
the rains fell hard and long.
They didn’t stop when the rivers spilled over their banks
because the clouds had no reason to part
on the day the balloons were tied to the earth.
The day the balloons were tied down,
the fields flooded and the crops were washed away.
Their roots couldn’t hold against the raging floodwaters
when the rivers spilled over their banks
because the clouds had no reason to part
on the day the balloons were tied to the earth.
The day the balloons were tied down,
the people grew no food.
The crops hadn’t grown fruit for them
because they had washed away in the raging flood
when the rivers spilled over their banks
because the clouds had no reason to part
on the day the balloons were tied to the earth.
The day the balloons were tied down,
the children ceased their joyous dance.
They couldn’t dance on empty stomachs
because the crops hadn’t grown fruit for them
because they had washed away in the raging flood
when the rivers spilled over their banks
because the clouds had no reason to part
on the day the balloons were tied to the earth.