Sam Aureli
@samaureli.bsky.social
Design and Construction Professional | Poet | Father | Musician & Artist | Train your heart and mind to see the beauty in life.
samaureli.com
samaureli.com
I’m so excited to finally share official news of my upcoming poetry collection, On the Edge of Knowing (Kelsay Books), arriving early 2026!
More soon, but for now, here’s the first look at the cover.
More soon, but for now, here’s the first look at the cover.
November 26, 2025 at 1:57 PM
I’m so excited to finally share official news of my upcoming poetry collection, On the Edge of Knowing (Kelsay Books), arriving early 2026!
More soon, but for now, here’s the first look at the cover.
More soon, but for now, here’s the first look at the cover.
Do you ever find yourself just walking, or doing something ordinary, and you get the sense that the air around you is tightening, whether anything’s actually wrong or not?
Walking Past the End
The stories we invent when we feel an ending coming but don’t know what it is
open.substack.com
November 25, 2025 at 4:00 AM
Do you ever find yourself just walking, or doing something ordinary, and you get the sense that the air around you is tightening, whether anything’s actually wrong or not?
I found these photos while organizing my photo library, and I can’t remember where I was, other than somewhere in Massachusetts, circa 2017. I’m still mesmerized by all that green, the kind that feels like the world is quietly reclaiming everything.
November 24, 2025 at 1:47 AM
I found these photos while organizing my photo library, and I can’t remember where I was, other than somewhere in Massachusetts, circa 2017. I’m still mesmerized by all that green, the kind that feels like the world is quietly reclaiming everything.
Grief doesn’t fade on command. It changes, lingers, and sometimes feels like weather you learn to live with. I would like to once again thank @prosetrics.bsky.social for publishing my poem.
November 22, 2025 at 2:27 PM
Grief doesn’t fade on command. It changes, lingers, and sometimes feels like weather you learn to live with. I would like to once again thank @prosetrics.bsky.social for publishing my poem.
"The Cold Still Knows My Name" is on the somber side. Wrote it after realizing grief doesn’t fade on command. It changes, lingers, and sometimes feels like the weather you learn to live inside.
The Cold Knows My Name
Grief knows the trick of picking locks, of slipping back in unnoticed
open.substack.com
November 18, 2025 at 11:23 AM
"The Cold Still Knows My Name" is on the somber side. Wrote it after realizing grief doesn’t fade on command. It changes, lingers, and sometimes feels like the weather you learn to live inside.
I wrote this poem after spending some time working in the asparagus patch. Nature has a lot to teach us, and sometimes the best lessons are waiting right in our own backyard.
First published in @prosetrics.bsky.social .
First published in @prosetrics.bsky.social .
November 14, 2025 at 12:38 PM
I wrote this poem after spending some time working in the asparagus patch. Nature has a lot to teach us, and sometimes the best lessons are waiting right in our own backyard.
First published in @prosetrics.bsky.social .
First published in @prosetrics.bsky.social .
Today you find a poem and a short interview. My poem, “Conversations with My Father” was published in Brawl Literature.
Sam Aureli — BRAWL
www.brawllit.com
November 14, 2025 at 3:25 AM
Today you find a poem and a short interview. My poem, “Conversations with My Father” was published in Brawl Literature.
I am beyond words. My first Pushcart Prize nomination! A special thanks to Venessa Tai Yeh and Opol for nominating my poem, "Made and Unmade." 😊
Below is a excerpt of the poem.
Below is a excerpt of the poem.
November 11, 2025 at 9:28 PM
I am beyond words. My first Pushcart Prize nomination! A special thanks to Venessa Tai Yeh and Opol for nominating my poem, "Made and Unmade." 😊
Below is a excerpt of the poem.
Below is a excerpt of the poem.
In the slow rhythm of the garden, I’m reminded that renewal begins long before anything blooms. “In the Waiting” is a meditation on pruning, patience, and the quiet faith of tending what endures beneath the surface.
In the Waiting
Pruning what has passed, making space for return
open.substack.com
November 11, 2025 at 1:43 PM
In the slow rhythm of the garden, I’m reminded that renewal begins long before anything blooms. “In the Waiting” is a meditation on pruning, patience, and the quiet faith of tending what endures beneath the surface.
I was going through my photo library, looking for a specific image for a future poem, when I came across this black and white photo of my hibiscus plant. I love how the monochrome tones make the petals appear even more delicate, almost like thin, translucent paper.
November 11, 2025 at 3:03 AM
I was going through my photo library, looking for a specific image for a future poem, when I came across this black and white photo of my hibiscus plant. I love how the monochrome tones make the petals appear even more delicate, almost like thin, translucent paper.
Ever since my trip to “God’s Country,” I’ve been writing more about faith, religion, and my complicated relationship with both. The photo was taken on the side of the road through Grand Teton Park. Something about that place still lingers.
November 10, 2025 at 12:46 PM
Ever since my trip to “God’s Country,” I’ve been writing more about faith, religion, and my complicated relationship with both. The photo was taken on the side of the road through Grand Teton Park. Something about that place still lingers.
A thousand shades of dust and sage, and one patch of gold brave enough to shine.
Pinedale, WY
Population 2,034
Elevation 7,175 feet
Pinedale, WY
Population 2,034
Elevation 7,175 feet
November 8, 2025 at 2:14 PM
A thousand shades of dust and sage, and one patch of gold brave enough to shine.
Pinedale, WY
Population 2,034
Elevation 7,175 feet
Pinedale, WY
Population 2,034
Elevation 7,175 feet
One benefit to early morning work commutes. The Boston skyline viewed from Memorial Drive.
November 7, 2025 at 6:20 PM
One benefit to early morning work commutes. The Boston skyline viewed from Memorial Drive.
A foggy September morning, the world fading into gray. These shots were taken on the road from McCall, ID to Missoula, MT, right before the climb through Lolo Pass.
November 5, 2025 at 2:11 PM
A foggy September morning, the world fading into gray. These shots were taken on the road from McCall, ID to Missoula, MT, right before the climb through Lolo Pass.
“We look at the world once, in childhood. The rest is memory.” — Louise Glück
A moment revisited: danger, tenderness, and the kind of rescue that doesn’t always come.
A moment revisited: danger, tenderness, and the kind of rescue that doesn’t always come.
The Day My Father Ran Barefoot After the Dog
A childhood prose poem in the key of Richard Siken
open.substack.com
November 4, 2025 at 1:08 PM
“We look at the world once, in childhood. The rest is memory.” — Louise Glück
A moment revisited: danger, tenderness, and the kind of rescue that doesn’t always come.
A moment revisited: danger, tenderness, and the kind of rescue that doesn’t always come.
I'm super excited that one of my poems has been shortlisted for the Bournemouth Writing Prize—though I'll have to wait another two months to learn the final results!
November 2, 2025 at 11:42 PM
I'm super excited that one of my poems has been shortlisted for the Bournemouth Writing Prize—though I'll have to wait another two months to learn the final results!
More leaf-peeing in the yard. I happen to catch the light just right peeking through the maple leaves.
November 2, 2025 at 11:41 PM
More leaf-peeing in the yard. I happen to catch the light just right peeking through the maple leaves.
“How beautifully leaves grow old. How full of light and color are their last days.”
— John Burroughs
— John Burroughs
November 1, 2025 at 12:28 AM
“How beautifully leaves grow old. How full of light and color are their last days.”
— John Burroughs
— John Burroughs
Before the frost, a final blaze of color. My blueberry leaves turning red, before fading into quiet.
November 1, 2025 at 12:14 AM
Before the frost, a final blaze of color. My blueberry leaves turning red, before fading into quiet.
“I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed.”
—Mary Oliver, The Summer Day
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed.”
—Mary Oliver, The Summer Day
October 31, 2025 at 11:44 AM
“I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed.”
—Mary Oliver, The Summer Day
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed.”
—Mary Oliver, The Summer Day
Reposted by Sam Aureli
Perfect Christmas present and great reading! Available internationally from Amazon!
Leave us a review 🥳
www.amazon.co.uk/s?k=100+poem...
Leave us a review 🥳
www.amazon.co.uk/s?k=100+poem...
Amazon.co.uk : 100 poems for the 21st century
www.amazon.co.uk
October 28, 2025 at 12:48 PM
Perfect Christmas present and great reading! Available internationally from Amazon!
Leave us a review 🥳
www.amazon.co.uk/s?k=100+poem...
Leave us a review 🥳
www.amazon.co.uk/s?k=100+poem...
Sometimes the act of watching light arrive feels like its own kind of prayer. This poem began in my backyard, before the sun, when quiet felt almost holy.
Dawn Prayer
A meditation on dawn, silence, and the art of being still
open.substack.com
October 28, 2025 at 11:38 AM
Sometimes the act of watching light arrive feels like its own kind of prayer. This poem began in my backyard, before the sun, when quiet felt almost holy.
I’ve spent a lifetime not only working in cities, but designing and building their monuments to the sky. “The City Asks for More” is a poem about what we give to the city, and what it keeps. About exhaustion, beauty, and the small rebellions that still sing. First published in @crowkeys.bsky.social
October 24, 2025 at 1:43 PM
I’ve spent a lifetime not only working in cities, but designing and building their monuments to the sky. “The City Asks for More” is a poem about what we give to the city, and what it keeps. About exhaustion, beauty, and the small rebellions that still sing. First published in @crowkeys.bsky.social
“The City Asks for More” is a poem about what we give to the city, and what it keeps. About exhaustion, beauty, and the small rebellions that still sing. Grateful to the @crowkeys.bsky.social editorial team for publishing my poem, now available on my Substack.
The City Asks for More
After Charles Simic
open.substack.com
October 21, 2025 at 11:37 AM
“The City Asks for More” is a poem about what we give to the city, and what it keeps. About exhaustion, beauty, and the small rebellions that still sing. Grateful to the @crowkeys.bsky.social editorial team for publishing my poem, now available on my Substack.
My poem, “Walking Past the End,” published in @crowkeys.bsky.social . A huge thank you to the editors.
Don't worry about the noises you hear behind you. It's safe here, we promise. As long as you don't look. Look instead at today's poem...
"Walking Past the End" by @samaureli.bsky.social
crowcrosskeys.com/2025/10/18/w...
"Walking Past the End" by @samaureli.bsky.social
crowcrosskeys.com/2025/10/18/w...
October 18, 2025 at 11:12 PM
My poem, “Walking Past the End,” published in @crowkeys.bsky.social . A huge thank you to the editors.