Discalced Carmelite Friars

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

Five Poems for the New Year – Part 3

III.The Dead of WinterAnd there it was, this solid wall of cold disintegrating in an icy rain.My own bony body had already emptied itself out, soundingA few tinny chords that were unable to build a music for themselvesNo matter how hard they tried.  Now night was washing ashore,A field of black roses flooding the lawn just below my window. *What am I to make of it?  Day had raised a towerOf
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Poems for the New Year – Part 1

I.The Turning of the YearWho is it that, this past spring, wrote haiku about pine trees, howIn them is found a life that grows suppler with age?  Or who, this summer,Spread wide his arms in song, pulling back the dark curtain of nightAnd letting the morning dew luxuriate like a vapor?Or who, this autumn, stepped out upon the soggy earthWhere its fertile powers shot upward into reds and yellows? 
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Three Christmas Poems – Part 1

I.Winter SolsticeThe day of your arrival is built on an impending darkness,On a cold that stabs and stabs as it lifts its cry.  See the splinters of frostLying strewn on the lawns and sidewalks, tracing a prickly pathThat the wind follows, eyes sightless,Eye sockets hollow.  Townsfolk hurry by as the wind slides on ahead, outOver the lake, flat on its belly.There, as if from a dark mirror,
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