Poetry Article: A kind of odd poem

posted by moodystuff449

This might be a poem, and it might not be. You know that it`s from a unorganized person when they can`t even figure out what they have written:

I drink and devour the words on the page. I thirst for mystery and adventure. I long for the puzzles and complicated plots, the drama, the romance. Reading is a life-long addiction. The stories that leave you hanging, make you wait. That have you travel forewards and backwards through time. The windows to other worlds breathed out through the minds of writers and poets. The things only words can describe. The things on the edge of our dreams. That`s what reading is.

Copyright © 2010-2011, Waverly L. Harris. FictionPress user Id 748202. All chapters, prologues, prefaces, epilogues, sneak peeks, and more belong to me.

teashaC, r-pattz and 2 others like this

DxC_lover98 I love it!! it sounds so...idk how to describe it!!

moodystuff449 Thx.

7

My Former Life by Charles Baudelaire

posted by Lovetreehill

For a long time I dwelt under vast porticos
Which the ocean suns lit with a thousand colors,
The pillars of which, tall, straight, and majestic,
Made them, in the evening, like basaltic grottos.

The billows which cradled the image of the sky
Mingled, in a solemn, mystical way,
The omnipotent chords of their rich harmonies
With the sunsets' colors reflected in my eyes,

It was there that I lived in voluptuous calm,
In splendor, between the azure and the sea,
And I was attended by slaves, naked, perfumed,

Who fanned my brow with fronds of palms
And whose sole task it was to fathom
The dolorous secret that...

7

The Cats by Charles Baudelaire

posted by Lovetreehill

Cats

Both ardent lovers and austere scholars
Love in their mature years
The strong and gentle cats, pride of the house,
Who like them are sedentary and sensitive to cold.

Friends of learning and sensual pleasure,
They seek the silence and the horror of darkness;
Erebus would have used them as his gloomy steeds:
If their pride could let them stoop to bondage.

When they dream, they assume the noble attitudes
Of the mighty sphinxes stretched out in solitude,
Who seem to fall into a sleep of endless dreams;

Their fertile loins are full of magic sparks,
And particles of gold, like fine grains of sand,
Spangle...

7

Beauty by Charles Baudelaire

posted by Lovetreehill

BEAUTY

by: Charles Baudelaire

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.