Every week we will post our personal favorite poets and photographers, who have contribuited to inspire us and hopefully you!
Migrant Mother , Dorothea Lange, 1936
Charles Baudelaire, Spleen (Les Fleurs du Mal) When the low, heavy sky weighs like a lid On the groaning spirit, victim of long ennui, And from the all-encircling horizon Spreads over us a day gloomier than the night; When the earth is changed into a humid dungeon, In which Hope like a bat Goes beating the walls with her timid wings And knocking her head against the rotten ceiling; When the rain stretching out its endless train Imitates the bars of a vast prison And a silent horde of loathsome spiders Comes to spin their webs in the depths of our brains, All at once the bells leap with rage And hurl a frightful roar at heaven, Even as wandering spirits with no country Burst into a stubborn, whimpering cry. — And without drums or music, long hearses Pass by slowly in my soul; Hope, vanquished, Weeps, and atrocious, despotic Anguish On my bowed skull plants her black flag.