Does this post even need an introduction? Sometimes ya got it; sometimes ya don’t! Today, I hate poetry Writing poems is like reading a book in braille— I know where to place my fingertips, but I still can’t find the…
Author: Sabrina Manno
After about 13 years of working as an editor for various publications in New York City, I gave up my professional career to stay home with my two beautiful children. While I enjoy being a mom (mostly), the trials and tribulations that these two human beings put me through daily are enough to test the patience of a saint! And I am no saint.
I’ve spent the past four-and-a-half years struggling to find my way back to the autonomous, carefree woman I once was. My first step toward that goal came in June, when I took over as president of a local chapter of the International Moms Club. This role has introduced me to many wonderful moms, allowed me to flex my professional and creative muscles, and given me a whole new purpose! Most importantly, though, it’s motivated me to pursue my true dream: starting this blog.
I love to write, and I love to make people laugh, so that’s why I’m here. Full disclosure: I tend to be too open, a little (OK, a lot) sarcastic, and honest to a fault. I love my kids to the moon and back, but they drive me crazy and I’m not afraid to admit it or write about it.
Anxiety: A List Poem
A few Christmases ago, I received a book called Healing Through Words, by poet Rupi Kaur. One of the exercises is to write a list poem based on one of several suggested topics, including grief, hope, friendship, shame, self-doubt, and,…
Apparition
Not sure where this one came from, to be honest. I sketched it out months ago and then closed the book on it. Do you believe we can see the dead? Apparition My favorite trees stand sentry, naked and bare.…
A Haiku To The Setting Sun
Sometimes I like to pull out my One-Poem-A-Day book (a lovely gem from my dear friend, Iryna—thank you, Iryna!), open to a random page, and follow the prompt. This haiku came out of one such time. A Haiku To…
“I’m sitting here by the red tree”
One of my favorite pastimes is sitting back and observing my 8-year-old son. It sounds so cliché and normally I’m not “that kind” of parent, but the more I come to know him, the more I appreciate his innocence, his…
Dream It, Do It
This poem poured out of my pen in January 2024, during a quiet day at Disney’s Port Orleans French Quarter. I dedicate this piece to my daughter, Isabella. Dream It, Do It My eyes close as the mellow notes of…
Black Is The New Green
Black Is The New Green I hate living within this sea of darkness, clinging to coffee, then wine as if my life depended on them. Is it time I erase all boundaries? Color over them with my yellowed and broken…
Mirrors
Almost two years ago to the day I began mentoring with a writing professor. During this time, I have written piece after piece (prose, poetry, and memoir) for her consideration. Too many to count, in fact, and only once has…
The Broken Parts I Share With My Daughter
The pandemic saved my life in many ways, but one of the most critical has been my discovery of and love affair with poetry (and writing classes in general). I am forever grateful to my professor/writing mentor and the inspiring…
Inside The Looking Glass
I think this poem speaks for itself … Inside The Looking Glass I often wonder why I can’t slow down or be alone anymore. It started at the end of the pandemic. For more than a year,…