Poetry by Sam Aureli
Where poetry walks in bare feet on sacred ground, speaks to the heart, and leaves echoes in the land.
Poetry by Sam Aureli
Where poetry walks in bare feet on sacred ground, speaks to the heart, and leaves echoes in the land.
The Quiet Drift
The photograph lay nestled
between the pages of my journal,
hidden beneath years of silence,
at the bottom of the Rubbermaid bin.
Moving has this way of unraveling you,
pulling you down to your hands and knees,
where you reach for things
you once wished had turned to ash,
when the home you’d built
crumbled in flames.
I trace the edges of the image
as though a genie might surface,
as if touching it could bring forth
wishes once released to the wind.
And there it is — our past,
when you and I moved through the world
as effortlessly as air.
We walked the sands of Singing Beach,
arm in arm, our dreams weaving
into the ocean’s rhythm,
our voices cradled by the waves.
But the tide has its way of turning.
Your voice fell silent,
your heart turning cold,
like frost creeping in before dawn.
I could see it in your eyes —
the light dimming,
the softness retreating,
and with each day,
it grew harder to reach you.
The space between us grew,
first a gentle pull, then a riptide
carving its way through the shore.
There’s no single reason, no clear fault line,
only the slow, unspoken shifts,
the quiet erosion of time
and the words we let slip
into the depths, unsaid.
The Sacred Spirit of the Land
I am thankful for the rows
of tall blueberry shrubs,
thriving in the backyard by the shed.
Remnants of an old neighborhood farm,
they stand, still offering their quiet gifts.
Every morning, the turkeys come,
their feet light on the earth,
leaping to reach the dew-bright gems—
plumper the higher they grow.
Blue jays, robins—feathered flashes—
join in, their wings stirring the leaves,
their beaks precise, gathering
without hesitation.
People ask how I keep the birds
from taking the blueberries,
and I wonder why I’d do such a thing.
I could spend hours,
filling my hands with this small treasure,
and still, by tomorrow,
the bushes would bow again,
heavy with abundance.
The stone walls mark the boundary
of this place I call mine,
but I refuse to stake a claim to the fruit.
How can anyone own the sacred spirit of the land?
The wild, the quiet, the living—all of it—
belongs to no one,
and to everyone.
Renewal
In the backyard,
there stands a hawthorn tree
that gifts to the earth
a bounty of red berries
and scented white flowers.
It had been there long before
I walked these grasses.
One day, a storm raged,
howling winds dividing it in two.
So great the trauma,
the tree went into mourning.
As winter’s fury abated,
the forsythia exploded
in shimmering bright yellow,
but there would be no hawthorn
blossoms come spring.
Time elapsed,
and Nature breathed into the wound,
birthing a sprig of green
where it had been split.
Leaves stretched out
to absorb the summer breezes,
and the hidden life of the tree
burst forth once again.
Maybe the desire to make something beautiful is the piece of God that is inside each of us.
Mary Oliver
Library
Reflections In Nature
Reflections In Nature
Reflections In Nature
Take a deep breath of fresh air and wander alongside me through sun-dappled forests, along windswept shores, and beneath starlit skies. My poetry pays homage to the majestic beauty and raw power of the natural world, from the cascading waterfalls that sing their songs to the fragrant wildflowers that whisper secrets in the breeze.
Voices in My Head
Reflections In Nature
Reflections In Nature
Embrace the untamed. Prepare to delve into poems that may echo familiar anxieties, whisper forgotten dreams, and unleash emotions rarely shared. These verses aren't just about reading; they're about feeling, unraveling, and connecting with the raw, unfiltered power of human experience.
A Walk of Faith
Reflections In Nature
A Journey of Love
"A Walk of Faith" invites you to journey alongside my personal exploration of faith, doubt, and the vastness of the cosmos. This isn't your typical religious poetry; it's a raw, honest conversation with the unknown, delving into questions that resonate deep within the human spirit.
A Journey of Love
The Chronicles of Anna Cavaricci
A Journey of Love
Welcome to "A Journey of Love," a poetic sanctuary where you'll wander alongside me on a captivating exploration of love's enigmatic depths. This isn't merely a collection of verses; it's a heartfelt invitation to embark on a personal odyssey, dissecting the complexities and discovering the true essence of love in all its multifaceted glory.
The Chronicles of Anna Cavaricci
The Chronicles of Anna Cavaricci
The Chronicles of Anna Cavaricci
"The Chronicles of Anna Cavaricci" isn't your typical collection of short stories. It's a mosaic of moments, laughter, and tears, meticulously piecing together the remarkable life of Anna, my mother. Prepare to delve into a treasure trove of memories, both grand and seemingly insignificant, that paint a captivating portrait of the woman who shaped me.