Poetry by Eleonora Calabrese

Escape   Discovery   In Situ   Senseless   Ignorance
Bitter Words   Blond Lover   My Husband   Impromptu
Plastic   Mask   Scherzo   Wind on the Sea   Wind at My Window
Despair   Intaglio   Sepulchre   New Cat

This collection of poems was first assembled by my Uncle Jack and given to family members. Eleonora, affectionately called Norie, was my great aunt. I am blessed to have known her and have been able to spend time with her when I was a child.

When I was young, we shared coffee and toast together. She would cut the toast into sixteen little squares, all buttered and glistening. The flavor so sweet. The crumbs, like gold in the plate. We’d dunk the toast and sip the coffee, swirling flavor of butter and bread on our tongues, as we shared conversation and thoughts of life and this and that.

She was a kind soul, a loving soul and my time with her was to very short to truly know her in the way I would have liked. Still, I remember her dearly and relish in the memories and thoughts of coffee with my Aunt Norie those few days, long ago.

Jack’s introduction and dedication follows. He speaks and ponders the privacy of her mind as she wrote, as she lived, as she loved her life, and as we loved her and always will.


Eleonora lived from March 3rd, 1906 to January 27th 2001. She graduated from High School as a member of the Honor Society. She was in her 20’s when she composed most of the poems in Impressions. When Eleonora attempted to publish some of her works, she requested the use of a pseudonym, hence the absence of her surname here. The poetry of Eleonora is so rich with themes of nature that one would never guess her poetry was written in a three story tenement house in the city, where she lived with her parents, brother, two sisters, a dog and a parrot.

At the beginning of her adult life, a broken trust may have contributed to her agoraphobia that became more evident later in her life. There is a common thread that runs through Eleonora’s poetry that may have been born of depression. We will never know if these impressions resulted from a combination of real or imagined experiences. Such is the proprietary right of poetic license.


To Eleonora, whose footprints in the sand are contained herein,
with the hope that you have found your escape.
Godspeed, Eleonora.