Young Writers Project is an independent nonprofit that engages students to write, helps them improve and connects them with authentic audiences in newspapers, before live audiences, and online. YWP also publishes an annual anthology and The Voice, a digital magazine with YWPโs best writing, images and features. More info: youngwritersproject.org or contact YWP at sreid@youngwritersproject.org or 802-324-9538.
This week we present responses to the following challenges:
Senses: Take a walk in your neighborhood, on a farm, in a city, down a school hallway. Stop for a moment and use as many senses as you can to describe what you see, hear, touch, smell โ and maybe even taste. Write a poem about your discoveries. And general writing.
Prompt: Senses
By Dan Wolstenholme
Age 15, Thetford
I stand on an empty dirt road on a hill.
The hot summer sun beats down on me.
I can feel my skin burning.
A gentle breeze kisses my skin, too.
The vivid blue of the sky, with its strong white clouds, is like a painting.
Another breeze moves loose dirt on the road.
The green grass sways back and forth in the wind.
Crickets chirp all around me, sounding like an orchestra,
and I hear the sound of leaves turning in the wind.
I stand on an empty dirt road on a hill, on a summer day.
By Gretta Koppers
Age 15, Thetford
One step โ
the creak of the door as I step outside.
Another step โ
the crunch of the gravel under my soles,
the whistle of a bird talking to its friend.
Another step โ
the pattern of a duckโs tracks,
the sting of the light from the sun in my eyes,
the smell of the freshly cut grass.
Another step โ
the ringing sound of church bells as they take a while to fade out,
the salty taste of my sweat as it drips down my face,
the soft feeling of a dogโs fur as I reach down to pet it,
the sound of a zipper as I take off my sweater.
Our senses are so beautiful.
Step back โ
sound of a zipper,
feeling of a dogโs fur,
taste of sweat,
sound of church bells.
Another step back โ
smell of grass,
feeling of light,
sight of tracks.
Another step back โ
sound of a bird,
sound of gravel.
Another step back โ
sound of the door.
Our senses are so overwhelming.
Prompt: General
By Mary Bosco
Age 12, Thetford Center
The sun beats down on the glistening ice,
until it reflects off of bubbling brooks and rivers instead.
Up above, the once gray and cloudy sky is a periwinkle blue.
A summer breeze ruffles the feathers of the geese that fly north.
The marshy fields turn green once more, with yellow daffodils dotting the hills.
Birds begin to sing their almost-forgotten songs.
Peepers croak loudly on wet evenings after a long winterโs rest.
Butterflies begin to swarm the trees as they erupt with fragrant blossoms.
Winter coats are stored in dark closets, finally replaced by colorful dresses and shorts.
