I just realized I never shared this poem
which saddens me
i wrote it a long time ago in my 292 class
it was modeled off of Tennyson's Ulysses
in the idea that it is a dramatic monologue
and goes against the common interpretation of the character
or so i remember
thus i present:
Within these dark kept chambers I roam,
My ever thoughts through which I comb.
And know and know- it was not I
Who planned this death that here does lie.
For in the room by which we rest,
My dear Macbeth did plan this quest
Of murder to gain the throne
Of which the sisters did atone.
And when I could not commit the deed,
By my dear husband, Macduff did bleed.
And now my hands blood soaked they lie
Beneath the remorseful tears from each my eye.
To have power o’er a kingdom, I disgust.
Yet with this rule, I may adjust.
For threads of gold may be quite nice,
And Arabian perfumes do entice.
Thus with this power of the throne,
I shall make this sin to me unknown
And the thoughts left in my mind to obey
When “Out, damn'd spot! out, I say!”