Charles Baudelaire

(9 April 1821 – 31 August 1867 / Paris)

Charles Baudelaire Poems

81. Châtiment De L'Orgueil (The Punishment Of Pride) 3/31/2010
82. Spleen (Ii) 3/31/2010
83. Parisian Dream 3/31/2010
84. Le Flacon (The Perfume Flask) 3/31/2010
85. Obsession 3/31/2010
86. L'Idéal (The Ideal) 3/31/2010
87. Mist And Rain 3/31/2010
88. Ciel Brouillé (Cloudy Sky) 3/31/2010
89. Chanson D'Après-Midi (Afternoon Song) 3/31/2010
90. The Sun 3/31/2010
91. Les Bijoux (The Jewels) 3/31/2010
92. La Beauté (Beauty) 3/31/2010
93. The Irreparable 3/31/2010
94. Le Masque (The Mask) 3/31/2010
95. Horreur Sympathique (Sympathetic Horror) 3/31/2010
96. Chant D'Automne (Song Of Autumn) 3/31/2010
97. Le Chat (The Cat) 3/31/2010
98. Le Poison (The Poison) 3/31/2010
99. Je T'Adore À L'Égal De La Voûte Nocturne (More Than Night's Vault, It's You That I Adore) 3/31/2010
100. The Death Of Lovers 3/31/2010
101. The Void 3/31/2010
102. Franciscae Meae Laudes (Praises Of My Francesca) 3/31/2010
103. L’ Étranger 3/31/2010
104. L'Horloge (The Clock) 3/31/2010
105. La Muse Malade (The Sick Muse) 3/31/2010
106. Causerie (Conversation) 3/31/2010
107. The Sunset Of Romanticism 3/31/2010
108. L'Albatros (The Albatross) 3/31/2010
109. The Owls 3/31/2010
110. The Voice 3/31/2010
111. Le Revenant (The Ghost) 3/31/2010
112. The Litanies Of Satan 3/31/2010
113. Le Mort Joyeux (The Joyful Corpse) 3/31/2010
114. A Une Madone (To A Madonna) 3/31/2010
115. Hymne À La Beauté (Hymn To Beauty) 3/31/2010
116. Confession 3/31/2010
117. Bohémiens En Voyage (Gypsies On The Road) 3/31/2010
118. L'Héautontimorouménos (The Man Who Tortures Himself) 3/31/2010
119. Beowulf 3/31/2010
120. Even When She Walks 3/31/2010

Comments about Charles Baudelaire

  • 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.

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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.

  • 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'

  • 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'

  • Shobana Gomes Shobana Gomes (4/28/2014 5:54:00 AM)

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

  • Lucianne Fasolo (9/26/2007 8:54:00 AM)

    Ah, Baudelaire. The forefather of modern poetry, and also of the French Symbolism. He had a unique style, his poems were flawless and beautiful. And he's one of my favorite poets ever, :)

  • ari anna arena (1/17/2007 1:30:00 AM)

    Why no 'Le Balcon'? A bella poesia.

  • Geneva Henderson (1/30/2006 12:53:00 PM)

    This is one of those cool poems. It makes you think. Personally I love Baudelaire. He has a beautiful rythem and sound that enchants me and inspires me.

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.

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