Don Juan in hell

IDLEchild

Well-Known Member
DON JUAN IN HELL
BY Charles Baudelaire.

The night Don Juan came to pay his fees
To Charon, by the caverned water's shore,
A Beggar, proud-eyed as Antisthenes,
Stretched out his knotted fingers on the oar.

Mournful, with drooping breasts and robes unsewn
The shapes of women swayed in ebon skies,
Trailing behind him with a restless moan
Like cattle herded for a sacrifice.

Here, grinning for his wage, stood Sganarelle,
And here Don Luis pointed, bent and dim,
To show the dead who lined the holes of Hell,
This was that impious son who mocked at him.

The hollow-eyed, the chaste Elvira came,
Trembling and veiled, to view her traitor spouse.
Was it one last bright smile she thought to claim,
Such as made sweet the morning of his vows?

A great stone man rose like a tower on board,
Stood at the helm and cleft the flood profound:
But the calm hero, leaning on his sword
Gazed back, and would not offer one look round.

Wicked poem...any favorites of you guys?

Any Baudelaire fans here?...
Flowers of Evil
 
She is a contemporary Canadian Poet, which I am not sure is what you had in mind, but I love this piece:

Carolyn Smart
Walking to the Ocean: Dawn

I am too tired for sentimentality,
and the ocean looks cold, so
I press your cheek to mine, Daniel,
and we walk out along the promenade--
you held high in my arms

It seems natural to be lost in the roll of waves
and the sawing of insects,
all night to lie hearing this,
then stand up and walk to the ocean
while the heat grows around us
like a room filling up with parachutes

Hold my hand now, Daniel,
your plum-size fist
and darkening lashes precise as flames
When the doctor cut me open
and saw you crouching there
my tenderness spilled out
Grey, wet boy they pummelled into life,
what do words like need or sorrow
mean to you, full or less, my care
for you all in this outstretched hand

We walk to the empty beach,
I am thinking cleanly of your birth
How could I have imagined
a love as artless as this
 
Damn that one is incredible. I can't think of a better gift to give a child. I missed good poetry for so long.
 
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