Charles Baudelaire

(9 April 1821 – 31 August 1867 / Paris)

Charles Baudelaire Poems

1. Gloomy Madrigal 10/27/2015
2. TO A BROWN BEGGAR-MAID 1/14/2016
3. Destruction 3/29/2016
4. The living flame 4/12/2016
5. The Soul Of Wine 9/7/2015
6. The sky 4/27/2015
7. The Eyes Of Beauty 4/7/2016
8. Sonnet Of Autumn 12/2/2014
9. The Sadness Of The Moon 2/2/2015
10. The Solitary’s Wine 3/31/2010
11. Letter To Sainte-Beuve 3/31/2010
12. Semper Eadem (Ever The Same) 3/31/2010
13. Réversibilité (Reversability) 3/31/2010
14. La Cloche Fêlée (The Cracked Bell) 3/31/2010
15. Le Guignon (Ill-Starred) 3/31/2010
16. The Ransom 3/31/2010
17. Le Mauvais Moine (The Bad Monk) 3/31/2010
18. La Béatrice 3/31/2010
19. The Lid 3/31/2010
20. La Pipe (The Pipe) 3/31/2010
21. Tristesses De La Lune (Sorrows Of The Moon) 3/31/2010
22. Tu Mettrais L'Univers Entier Dans Ta Ruelle (You Would Take The Whole World To Bed With You) 3/31/2010
23. Le Flambeau Vivant (The Living Torch) 3/31/2010
24. Sisina 3/31/2010
25. Remords Posthume (Posthumous Remorse) 3/31/2010
26. Le Léthé (Lethe) 3/31/2010
27. Le Cygne (The Swan) 3/31/2010
28. Que Diras-Tu Ce Soir, Pauvre Âme Solitaire (What Will You Say Tonight, Poor Solitary Soul) 3/31/2010
29. La Servante Au Grand Coeur Dont Vous Étiez Jalouse (The Great-Hearted Servant Of Whom You Were Jealous) 3/31/2010
30. On Tasso In Prison (Eugène Delacroix’s Painting) 3/31/2010
31. Je Te Donne Ces Vers Afin Que Si Mon Nom (I Give You These Verses So That If My Name) 3/31/2010
32. Les Phares (The Beacons) 3/31/2010
33. Une Gravure Fantastique (A Fantastic Engraving) 3/31/2010
34. Le Flacon (The Perfume Flask) 3/31/2010
35. Spleen (Iii) 3/31/2010
36. Le Balcon (The Balcony) 3/31/2010
37. The Moon, Offended 3/31/2010
38. La Muse Vénale (The Venal Muse) 3/31/2010
39. La Serpent Qui Danse (The Dancing Serpent) 3/31/2010
40. Moesta Et Errabunda (Grieving And Wandering) 3/31/2010

Comments about Charles Baudelaire

  • oplixmz (4/2/2020 6:29:00 PM)

    𝐈 𝐦 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 18-𝐤 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐈 𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭. 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞..

    HER☛☛ http: //bit.ly/3cWe5Jv

    0 person liked.
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  • Heather Marie Mortimer (10/1/2019 8:53:00 PM)

    Sadly, I do not see any of my favorite versions of my favorite poet posted here, from:
    'The Poems and Prose Poems of Charles Baudelaire. Ed. James Huneker. New York: Brentano's,1919'
    I would encourage Baudelaire fans to read those particular translations as well! And I hope this is remedied here in the future.

    0 person liked.
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  • lerzumupso (9/13/2019 5:04:00 PM)

    My last month paycheck was for 11000 dollars… All i did was simple online work from comfort at home for 3-4 hours/day that I got from this agency I discovered over the internet and they paid me for it 95 bucks every hour.... Here ======►► www.more.cash61.com ★★★COPY THIS SITE★★★

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  • lajama (12/22/2018 10:59:00 AM)

    til I saw the check 4 $8501, I didnt believe...that...my mom in-law realy erning money in there spare time on there computar.. there mums best friend started doing this 4 only nine months and just now paid the loans on their cottage and got Car. we looked here....www.argeosaly.com

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  • bellyvankelly (10/27/2018 3:42:00 PM)

    les fleur du mal- -dam near flawless- depending on which translation u get

    rest in poetry my gentle fellow mad poet

    i heart u (an it would b ah black heart, u know dat...)

    0 person liked.
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  • Ray Burleigh (5/2/2018 9:22:00 AM)

    Dear poem hunter creators. My long overdue message to you. Wow. Great gaudy generous gratitude. Finding
    Baudelaire reminded me of all the thanks you deserve for this website. Bless you all. I turn to you so often for
    Respite and hope.

    1 person liked.
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  • A disinterested bystander (11/24/2017 1:15:00 PM)

    Baudelaire's great talent I suppose was distilling sour grapes into eloquence.

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (6/9/2016 1:03:00 PM)

    '' Who among us has not dreamt, in moments of ambition, of the miracle of a poetic prose, musical without rhythm and rhyme, supple and staccato enough to adapt to the lyrical stirrings of the soul, the undulations of dreams, and sudden leaps of consciousness. This obsessive idea is above all a child of giant cities, of the intersecting of their myriad relations. ''

    (from:  Dedication of 'Le Spleen de Paris' *

    * also known as 'Paris Spleen' or 'Petits Poèmes en prose'

    29 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (6/9/2016 1:02:00 PM)

    '' Who among us has not dreamt, in moments of ambition, of the miracle of a poetic prose, musical without rhythm and rhyme, supple and staccato enough to adapt to the lyrical stirrings of the soul, the undulations of dreams, and sudden leaps of consciousness. This obsessive idea is above all a child of giant cities, of the intersecting of their myriad relations. ''

    (from:  Dedication of 'Le Spleen de Paris' *

    * also known as 'Paris Spleen' or 'Petits Poèmes en prose'

    29 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Shobana Gomes Shobana Gomes (4/28/2014 5:54:00 AM)

    His poems tread on the catchy-ness of his phrases. Love it.

    8 person liked.
    9 person did not like.
Best Poem of Charles Baudelaire

Be Drunk

You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it--it's the
only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks
your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually
drunk.
But on what?Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be
drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of
a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again,
drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave,
the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything
that is groaning, everything ...

Read the full of Be Drunk

Autumn

Soon we will plunge ourselves into cold shadows,
And all of summer's stunning afternoons will be gone.
I already hear the dead thuds of logs below
Falling on the cobblestones and the lawn.

All of winter will return to me:
derision, Hate, shuddering, horror, drudgery and vice,
And exiled, like the sun, to a polar prison,
My soul will harden into a block of red ice.