Sara Holbrook author/poet/educator
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
April 13, 2016
Seems like the right week for a reprise of this little ditty (as I once again file an extension).
Letter to the IRS
Every year I promise myself and the government that I
will not file an extension.
That I will be a good citizen and get
October 4, 2015
“Tony?”
“Sara, how you doing?”
A complex question. I was sitting in a nice
house with no job, two kids, and I’d just received the bad news that my former
husband was also unemployed so there would be no more health insurance or child
support coming.
August 28, 2015
I just sent a finished (I think) manuscript off to my editor, I accomplished my first 30 mile bike ride, and had our first school visit of the year at Chardon Middle School, right in our back yard. The leaves are feeling crackly, the temperature is dropping and evening is crowding the
February 12, 2015
Okay, his name was not Jim, but other than that, the following poem is a true story. Hard to imagine any boy wouldn’t have gone for those bangs and too young for braces buck teeth. I wore extra petticoats because I wanted hips like Annette Funicello,
January 29, 2015
Dan Ferri
Some poems visit you at sunset. Some haunt you in the wee hours with Jabberwocky logic because, let’s face it, anything seems logical at 3AM. There are poems you reach for when a friend dies, when a
January 2, 2015
A wise philosopher (Cher?) once said that “everyday’s a new audition.” That’s a lot of pressure!
And no time is that more evident than January 1, when we resolve something or other starting with the new year.
In the writing and the reading, poetry gives me pause. To