April 10, 2017
Sara Holbrook author/poet/educator
April 10, 2017
February 27, 2025
It’s a sleep-late Sunday afternoonand almost time for dinner,with no pressing debts and two hours free to spend.I sit here figuring what to do.I could translate Beowulf from Old English.I could swim to Canada.I could clean out my garage.Tasks equally formidable.I fumble around in optionswhile playing keep or tosswith a catch-all basket on my desk.Overflowing.In
February 27, 2025
I Never Said I Wasn’t Difficult By Sara Holbrook I never said I wasn’t difficult, I mostly want my way. Sometimes I talk back or pout and don’t have much to say. I’ve been known to yell, “so what,” when I’m stepping out of bounds. I want you there for me and yet,
February 23, 2025
If I Were a PoemBy Sara HolbrookIf I were a poemI would grab you by the anklesand rustle you up to your every leaf.I would gather your branches in the power of my winds and pull you skyward,if I were a poem.If I were a poem I would walk you down beside the rushing
December 21, 2018
I don’t have time for this. This prompt is stupid, besides no way am I going there. I have way too much to do. The business of writing becoming once again my excuse not to write. For today’s prompt, write a ten poem. The poem could have ten lines, ten syllables, and/or have ten syllables
December 7, 2018
The story behind the poem:
In 1991 I was hired by the local housing authority (CMHA) as their public information officer. My job was to be a white face to face off with a white media, a fact made clear in my interview. It was my first opportunity to work in place where I was
August 5, 2017
New faces, new names, new voices, new dreams. It’s getting-to-know-you time again, the beginning of a new school year.
Here is a little quick write pattern for creating a cheeky introduction. Fun to write, fun to share. I’m thinking upper elementary, but you be the judge. Here is my model, My Official List. Sorry that it’s
July 14, 2017
The pictures are a little grainy with strange stuff in the background. The characters wear old-fashioned clothes and talk funny. Their stories require understanding of situations that readers have never encountered before.
It isn’t that kids don’t like historical fiction; it’s just that sometimes they have trouble seeing themselves in the picture. The pictures
April 15, 2017
Why I Would Never Tell a Student What a Poem Means. (reprinted from the Washington Post, April 13, 2017)
Seems fitting that April is poetry month, a season brimming with blossoming possibilities and longer days. Like jolly jonquils, in April poets are released from our winter hibernation, we shed our black attire
April 15, 2017
Following the lead of poet Matthew Olzmann, I decided to try my hand at a poem/letter to someone fifty years from now. As I did some calculations, that turns out to be exactly 100 years from the year I graduated from high school. Since it is unlikely I will live to see 2067, I left