CreationEarth Nature Photos
Submit Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

The Bad Monk

 On the great walls of ancient cloisters were nailed
Murals displaying Truth the saint,
Whose effect, reheating the pious entrails
Brought to an austere chill a warming paint.
In the times when Christ was seeded around, More than one illustrious monk, today unknown Took for a studio the funeral grounds And glorified Death as the one way shown.
—My soul is a tomb, an empty confine Since eternity I scour and I reside; Nothing hangs on the walls of this hideous sty.
O lazy monk! When will I see The living spectacle of my misery, The work of my hands and the love of my eyes?

by Charles Baudelaire
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - The Bad MonkEmail Poem |

Top Charles Baudelaire Poems

Analysis and Comments on The Bad Monk

Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem The Bad Monk here.

Commenting has been disabled for now.