Muse |
Muse |
Which witch is which? Three times, they sing: A prophecy of Cawdor, Glamis and King. So here begins The war of mind; A battle lost and won, I find. Two friends are foes Not yet revealed, A force of fate for both is sealed. Macbeth is dressed In robes of Cawdor; He wishes, with the witches, he’d spoken more. He informs his Lady: A letter, she does read, And creates dark thoughts of a treacherous deed. The King is welcomed To the castle of Macbeth; Unknowingly, to his death. A warm celebration Is hosted and given, Where to his destination: hell or heaven? In the dead nature of night Macbeth does stir, A dagger he sees, it seems to lure. Pointing the way To the sleeping King Duncan; The guards too are drugged and drunken. Macbeth approaches And there rings a bell; “Duncan, do not rise, for it is a knell!” Investigation begins. Others are blamed. Those who flee: Malcolm and Donalbain. Macbeth gets his prize, He has achieved his ambition, But is losing his mind; something is missing. His friend, being betrayed, Is now his foe, The one known as Banquo. Macbeth orders him dead, In a threatened spite, But his plans are somewhat slight. Fleance, the son Of the convicted man Flees the ground of the ruled Scotland. Macbeth is haunted By the ghost of his friend; The damage is done; it shall not mend. The Lady suffers: She has lost her mind, Her hands are of blood and suicide. Unstable Macbeth, Fears the suspicion from Macduff, The lust for security is more than enough. He finds the sisters, The witches under the moon, That once told him his great fortune. To Macbeth and his fears, They do confirm all, That his death will be from no man of woman-born. Macbeth goes forth, An order is made: Macduff’s wife and children are swiftly slain. Word soon reaches, Macduff fights back, They two meet in hand-to-hand combat. Macbeth is confident And so, fights with ease, But his mind is dead and does not foresee. Macduff then reveals: “I am not of woman-born” Macbeth has lost and Macduff has won. He announces that he was ‘Untimely ripp’d’ from his Mother’s womb. Macbeth is dead and the prediction proves true. Photo by Matt Riches on Unsplash Originally written in 2011, age 15
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AuthorSamantha is a doctoral researcher researching the power of figurative language in advertising, social media, and mobile technology. Copyright © 2022
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