Discalced Carmelite Friars

Semi Province of St. Therese

Poet and Contemplative

“From the abundance of his spirit [the poet] pours out secrets and mysteries rather than rational explanation” (Prologue, The Spiritual Canticle).

“In contemplation God teaches the soul very quietly and secretly, without its knowing how, without the sound of words” (Chapter 39, The Spiritual Canticle).

In the spirit of St. John of the Cross, this blog reflects on the contemplative experience and the poetic experience, sometimes separately and distinctly, sometimes in common, as mutually enlightening.

I will also post to this blog, from time to time, my own poetry, with a short interpretive note attached.

~ Fr. Bonaventure Sauer, OCD

The Lands of Sunrise and Sunset: Thirteen Found Poems - 2 of 13

            2. The World is not Enough   A bird flew over and Sat—there was nothing else to do. Do not mistake its silence for pride And strength.                         In time it spoke of The Mournful
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The Lands of Sunrise and Sunset: Thirteen Found Poems

Thirteen Found Poems ~a pastiche of images and phrases drawn from the poetry of John Ashbery, Thomas Hardy, Lori Howe, John Keats, Denise Levertov, Vachel Lindsay, and William Blake             1. The Sun Comes and Goes                        
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Seven Conversation Poems – Part 4

IV.Ready for Omnipotence The sun is sinking as the earth, far away, receives it;The two recede still further, off into darkness. DuskFloats upward, weightless, happy, a last breathMixing with the freedom of the stars. Time expires Into timelessness, and we feel it, this departure—Like the lifting of August that is September, Like the vastness of
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The City and Beyond ~ Four Poems – Part 4

At Home~central IllinoisI've reentered the land of cornfields.No pioneer trail preceded me here, onlyA magic carpet of golden corn husksAnd the wind-swept linen of a clear blue sky.There is just one way for me to returnTo a life lived among shattered sidewalksWhere the city's tangled paths twist and turn,And that way is forever closed to me.I lounge, rather, in the shade of an oak treeHoarding the
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