Young Writers and Artists Space


We welcome stories, poems, jottings, drawings, graphics, cartoons, extracts from your novel. Anything at all!

We are particularly looking for work from 18’s for this page. Please send to

Mums and Dads, Aunties, Uncles,  brothers,  sisters, teachers, youth workers please get in touch if you have creative children or young people in your lives. WE CAN FEATURE THEIR WORK HERE. HOWEVER IT MUST BE THEIR WORK. IF THEY CAN’T WRITE YOU CAN TRANSCRIBE.


If you are 16 – 18  you can also enter the annual international competition.

In the future we plan  to have a book with all the best contributions from under 18’s.  Please encourage friends and fellow students to submit to our cause to encourage young creative people.  We are very interested in extracts from your novels and long term literary projects.

If you have a flickr account you can now also submit to our group page!


Here We Go


Here we go,

Round and around.

Never stopping,

Always running.

Going up and down.


Here we go,

Im at the end of my rope.

I’d tie an knot,

But I’m afraid.

The room is disappearing.


Here we go,

This is getting tiring.

School is a bore,

But I don’t have any money.

Man I want college.


Here we go,

The hand raised in anger.

The face of wrath,

The empty bottle.

Rolling on the floor.


Here we go,

The end has come .

I don’t need this submitted,

But my grade is important.

Thanks for listening.


Here we go,

I don’t have any money.

So its cool if you don’t want it,

I still need to write it.

My future is at stake.


Here we go,

Goodbye to you.

And thanks again,

It doesn’t seem like much.

However it made my day.


William Colgan, 11th Grade, Houston, Texas.

Eye of New York by Kimberley Simper, aged 13


The below poems are from the creative writing group at St. Paul’s Middle School in Alnwick, Northumberland, in response to this year’s National Poetry Day’s theme of ‘Light’.  These followed the resources produced by the Forward Arts Foundation and these poems were written during six workshops that were ran by Catherine Ayres.


Imagine a world with no light

©Víctor Sánchez

©Víctor Sánchez

Good things will happen, bad things despite

Higher and higher, the light gets bright

Thankfully we have a sun to give us light

© Lola, 11




Candle light

When candle light is lit he saves you from evil.

He will save you from grief and despair.

©Fer Siciliano

©Fer Siciliano

When he is blown out the smoke and light goes into your soul.

Vibes will change you from sad to relaxed.

Candle light soul is inside you now;

cherish the fact that you are special.

Blood of beautiful moons and candles before them.

Rest in the light and stay in the peace.

© Maia, 12


Candle light

Candle light can’t light up the world like his brother the sun

But he can see through us, all of us.

©Delwar Hossain

©Delwar Hossain

And he knows our secrets – past, present and future.

He knows one day he will flicker and die.

He will come back, if given a match.

He can do this 24 times before his death is certain.

He reads our minds, searching through our dark and light secrets,

easing our troubles and crashing our happiness,

to bring tears of joy and sadness.

He will crush and raise our dreams in an infinite cycle.

He burns ice and fire, interchangeably with our emotions.

He sheds his coat once in a life, changing colour with each one,

invisible to the human eye.

For he has a treasure that no humans have:


© Gregory, 11


Please Don’t Blow Me Out

I can dance for you

Spark and reach and flicker

My movements reflect on your walls

My special magic display

I can dance into your soul



Carve happiness on its walls

Please don’t blow me out.

I am weak and small

I burn only to die

I show you things you didn’t want to see

Secrets of the dark

I show you shadows

I’m scared of wind and rain

Please don’t blow me out.

I give you a path

A path of golden light

I am good and strong

I read the darkness

I translate its stories

I watch the Sun and Moon

Great gods sewn in the sky by stars

But time melts my wax

I will die.

© Libby, 12


The moon

©Hasan Yuzeir

©Hasan Yuzeir

cries, she is hurt. Her

figure is now swollen and red. The

three sharp knives of the beast sliced her. Its

hands can do too much damage. It can kill, but it chooses

to punish, to make her suffer. She will never die. She must live in pain forever.

© Catherine, 12


The Night Stage

Starlight peeps from black curtains

Glancing over the world

©Josh Joe

©Josh Joe

Shy as she tiptoes onto stage

Large eyes glance upon the crowd

Glinting with fear and truth

She sweeps across the sky in a gown of woven light

Silver hair worn long to hide her face

A timid smile from a mouth never opened

Barefoot as she sweeps across the sky

Starlight stares upon the earth

She drops gems into puddles

She plays music that cannot be heard

She gives a shy smile upon her audience

Silent as she glides off stage

The sun is up next…

© Libby, 12



Washed up on an evening tide,

vexed in confusion,

she tiptoes around the sky.

Constellations become crossed

into intricate patterns and shapes.

©Alexander Yuryevskiy

©Alexander Yuryevskiy

She wonders why she was given the job

of an artist if no one notices the art?

Wordlessly she waits,

thinking about the cruel destiny she was given.

Slowly she trudges towards the doorway,

droplets crawling down her face;

it beams with ghostly sadness.

She feels useless

but she isn’t.

Maybe tomorrow she’ll realise

but for now she crawls away.

© Philippa, 12


The Moon

©m Ri

©m Ri

Selene high in the sky,

Ever there,

Luna light in the night,

Ever there.

© George-Anne, 12


Blood moon


is the moon.


The devil’s word

©Dimitri Guedes

©Dimitri Guedes

does not influence

that blood colour.

The moon’s wife

is not the reason for

that blood colour.

The jaguar

is not the answer to

that blood colour.

It comes,

it disappears,

it comes.

Wherever you are,

the blood colour gets into your head.

The blood colour gets into your head.

Wherever you are,

it comes,

it disappears,

it comes.

That blood colour gets inside your head.

The blood colour gets inside your head

Wherever you are,

it comes,

it disappears,

it comes.

That blood colour

is not the answer to

the jaguar.

That blood colour

is not the reason for

the moon’s wife.

That blood colour

does not influence

the devil’s word.


is the moon


© Tamsin, 12


Beauty of the Night

Eyes stare at the glare of the flames,

never paying a speck of attention

to the beauty of the tension

©Julia Walter

©Julia Walter

in the air of the dark,

all dismay from those who can’t.

A detailed eye may only have

one day or a lifetime to stare,

most don’t really care

in the beauty of the night.

© Katie-Marie, 12



after “The Cataract of Lodore” by Robert Southey

His flames are great,

his eyes full of hate,

©Leticia Amor-Jurado B

©Leticia Amor-Jurado B

his murderous soul awaits.

Innocently smiling,

lighting and catching

creeping and crackling

igniting and fighting

unnoticed he creeps down the pathway.

Blazing and boiling and smouldering,

slaying and killing and laughing,

slaughtering, exterminating,

assassinating and executing,

burning and swirling and flaming

and spreading and eating and creeping.

Flashing and crashing,

bashing and smashing,

glowing and slowing

deleting and retreating.

He smokes to floors,

his food all gone,

that’s how the fire destroys our homes.

© Gregory, 11



I am distracted by a blaze of light

luring me into its territory.

Its glow is blinding;

©Alessia Giuffrida

©Alessia Giuffrida

lulling me into a deep sleep of time.

It leads me, hypnotising me into its evil lair.

I try to turn back, but it’s no use.

The light’s hands are beckoning,

its eyes pulling me ever closer.

I listen to her calls;

her voice sounds gentle

but I know it’s not.

© Anna-Grace, 11


The light

The light settles behind a hill,

©Myriam Tisbo

©Myriam Tisbo

whilst the fierce but tender wolf howls,

his greatness showing and his strength and light growing

as he pierces through the stained-glass window,

spreading colours like the rainbow.

With every breath he brings new life,

whilst others struggle for survival.

He is kind, but selfish,

spreading his glory through the countryside

to the city,

whilst again, the lonely wolf howls.

© Gregory, 11


The Sight of You
The Red Devil’s searing touch,

Emblazoned my heart with relentless love.

Past my lips he pours as I lurch,

©Florine Marlant

©Florine Marlant

The poison of amour, my own blood shed.

He pours what I made.

In times of sorrow and unrequited love,

Where my character doth fade,

A razor blade, my own blood shed.

Through the crack in the wall I stared,

In times of entrancing wonder and curious love,

Deep in my heart my souls convulsed!

Cupid’s arrow hath made me helpless, drained.

In my body I wander and in my mind I ponder.

Deep, unpoetic, stressful, overshadowing, lonely love.

© George Peat (G.A.P.), age 16


Forbidden Love

His reflection in the frozen lake,

next to mine,

was a picture of perfection.

©Anastasia Alekseeva

©Anastasia Alekseeva

Two friends in love,

Bound by petty promises,

keeping secrets from the world,

hiding behind snowflakes.

I wanted a celebration,

with confetti in the air.

I wanted to be with him,

spend time together,

like all couples do.

And all I got were midnight rendezvous

But I still smiled,

Because the moments we spent together

Melted the ice inside of me,

once and for all.

© Sadia Zafar, age 18



I walked past the door,

to the first house we bought,

And I had the urge



to knock,

To see, if you would answer.

To see, if you would let me in.

But I held my hand



As the thunder roared

and snow hit the ground.

After a while,

I lowered my hand,

and walked away.

Maybe, the winter

had made me cold.

© Sadia Zafar, age 18