  Poetry
This week: Charles Baudelaire Edited by: Stormy Lady  
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| This is poetry from the minds and the hearts of poets on Writing.Com. The poems I am going to be exposing throughout this newsletter are ones that I have found to be, very visual, mood setting and uniquely done. Stormy Lady |
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The Enemy
By Charles Baudelaire
My youth was nothing but a black storm
Crossed now and then by brilliant suns.
The thunder and the rain so ravage the shores
Nothing's left of the fruit my garden held once.
I should employ the rake and the plow,
Having reached the autumn of ideas,
To restore this inundated ground
Where the deep grooves of water form tombs in the lees.
And who knows if the new flowers you dreamed
Will find in a soil stripped and cleaned
The mystic nourishment that fortifies?
O Sorrow O Sorrow Time consumes Life,
And the obscure enemy that gnaws at my heart
Uses the blood that I lose to play my part.
On April 9, 1821 François Baudelaire and his young wife Caroline welcomed son Charles Baudelaire into their family. François died during Baudelaire's early childhood. His Mother remarried Lieutenant Colonel Jacques Aupick in 1827. Baudelaire went to boarding school for his education. He went on to study law at Lycée Louis-le-Grand in Paris. Baudelaire had started taking opiums while in college and ended up being expelled from the school.
Along with opiums Baudelaire found comfort with many different partners and is said to have contracted several diseases. His social life and opium addiction landed Baudelaire in massive debt. Baudelaire’s stepfather made one last attempt at to help Baudelaire find his way back to a career in law by sending Baudelaire on a trip to India. On this voyage Baudelaire focused on his writing. He also met Jeanne Duval who would remain his mistress on and off again for the rest of his life. On returning to Paris, he began to write some of the poems for "Les Fleurs du Mal".
Baudelaire first book was an art review "Salon of 1845” then in 1846, Baudelaire wrote his second Salon review. His support of Delacroix as a Romantic artist gained widespread notice.The following year Baudelaire's novella La Fanfarlo was published. In 1857 Baudelaire published his first volume of poems, Les Fleurs du mal (The Flowers of Evil). Baudelaire also translated several books during his literary career. By 1860 Baudelaire was living in poverty. His health had declined and he was left asking his mother to move back home.
The last years of Baudelaire’s life were lived in darkened state, pain in depression consumed him. In 1864 he suffered a stroke and left him in a semi paralyzed state. He spent the last two years of his life in a sanatorium in Brussels. He died of aphasia and hemiplegia complications on August 31, 1867.
Beauty
by Charles Baudelaire
I AM as lovely as a dream in stone,
And this my heart where each finds death in turn,
Inspires the poet with a love as lone
As clay eternal and as taciturn.
Swan-white of heart, a sphinx no mortal knows,
My throne is in the heaven's azure deep;
I hate all movements that disturb my pose,
I smile not ever, neither do I weep.
Before my monumental attitudes,
That breathe a soul into the plastic arts,
My poets pray in austere studious moods,
For I, to fold enchantment round their hearts,
Have pools of light where beauty flames and dies,
The placid mirrors of my luminous eyes.
The Sadness Of The Moon
By Charles Baudelaire
The Moon more indolently dreams to-night
Than a fair woman on her couch at rest,
Caressing, with a hand distraught and light,
Before she sleeps, the contour of her breast.
Upon her silken avalanche of down,
Dying she breathes a long and swooning sigh;
And watches the white visions past her flown,
Which rise like blossoms to the azure sky.
And when, at times, wrapped in her languor deep,
Earthward she lets a furtive tear-drop flow,
Some pious poet, enemy of sleep,
Takes in his hollow hand the tear of snow
Whence gleams of iris and of opal start,
And hides it from the Sun, deep in his heart.
Thank you all!
Stormy Lady
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The winner of "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" [ASR] is:
(the poem is rated 18+ so if you'd like to read it please click on the link)
Honorable mention:
Hold On
The wounds of time leave passing heartache
compassionately scarred over
by transparent fears and lessons learned.
A cheating heart, the death of a friend,
unspoken, understood, compromise,
breed scrutiny and cautious connection.
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Poetry: March 28, 2018 Issue [#8825]
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