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 featuring YWP’s best writing and images. More info: youngwritersproject.org or contact YWP at sreid@youngwritersproject.org or 802-324-9538.
This week, we present General Writing responses.
By Roxane Park
Age 11, Hanover
The Breeze — it whispered — passed me by —
It told me of its Tale —
Of Sorrows — forgotten by all —
Struggles — to no avail —
The Sea — it roared — crashed Great against —
It cried for all its Woe —
Rejection — pierced its ancient Heart —
For Rage — the Waters — know —
The Bird — it sang a Gloomy tune —
With hints of Treachery —
It Knows the Lies running Within —
That others — cannot See —
For every friendship has its End —
And happy, it may be —
But often, Danger is the test
That checks one’s loyalty —
And when the sacred Tides should turn —
And Whispers turn to Roars —
When you are Lonesome in this world —
The Fault — it may be — Yours —
(The above poem is another written in the style of Emily Dickinson. Roxane’s use of dashes, choices in capitalization, etc. have intentionally been kept intact.)
By Eden Anne Bauer
Age 15, Hanover
Lost is such a changing word.
It can mean being stranded
without a sense of direction, or
so caught up in the moment
that the world around you melts away.
For me, to be lost is to be
surrounded by some force,
some force that makes everything
tangible and certain
disappear.
Whether one’s lost in a dense, foggy wood, or
lost in another’s eyes, or
lost in thought
or conversation,
or something’s lost in translation,
all that’s real fades away
as a new world glosses over the old
with a dream-like quality.
Even if something is physically lost —
say a book, or a necklace —
the memories of them remain. Their place
remains in the world.
Therefore being lost is the meeting of
dreams and reality,
what is and what could be,
what has been and what will be.
Though this uncertainty can seem scary at times,
just imagine all the possibilities.
I could get lost in my own imagination
just pondering them …
By Adi Alsup
Age 12, Thetford Center
Love is soft
like a baby duck.
Love is strong
like Hercules.
Love is kind
like a giving mother.
Love is scary,
for you have to let people in.
Love can hurt
like a broken heart.
Love is beautiful
like a dancing swan.