Macbeth and Witches Poem
Shakespeare's play, Macbeth, has and will always be studied by many people all over the world. I am no exception since we had fun learning and looking at the play at school.
I was asked to put together a little passage or two in a poem using powerful imagery within it. To visualize the scene I referred back to the pictures in the children's version of Macbeth, I used Tony Ross' illustrations as a guide to my own drawing and words.(I've only drawn some of the ingredients in the potion spell.)
Here is my effort;
Gather round my sinister sisters
Add the skin of old blisters
The silver of a unicorn's blood
The tail of a rat that died in a flood
Pluck a flaming Phoenix's feather
Crush the leaves of dying heather
Stir in some dark stormy weather
Double, double toil and trouble
Fire burn and cauldron bubble
Shredded skin of a centuries old snake
Wait a minute, let it boil and bake
Broken hoof of a proud centaur
Decaying eye of a crude outlaw
Magic of a golden Unicorn
Fry up its thick horn
Add a black Rose's spiky thorn
Double, double, toil and trouble
Fire burn and cauldron bubble
Head of baby born by force
Scrambled brain of the mother's corpse
Putrid eyeball of a strangled puffin
Chipped talon from a wounded Griffin
Roast a hairy hog and drop it in
Quickly dice up a manky Sharks fin
Mash rotten tomatoes from a year old tin
Double, double, toil and trouble
Fire burn and cauldron bubble
Slimy Salamanders foot
Fishy Otters middle, black like soot
Dead tree's useless root
A Fisherman's dissolving boot
This is all for the grieving Macbeth
But what we need to succeed is...
HIS DEATH!
The three witches in my drawing are all different, the one in green is the leader, the best witch, the most talented of the three, with a seeing crystal for eyes. The second -in blue- takes advice from the eldest and lacks the talent but has sight. The third -in purple- is my favourite, she's plump with stubby legs and long arms, the hairiest by far, (on feet, on legs and all over.) in truth, she's bald and wears a wig with perfect ginger locks.
So there's the talented witch, the student-like witch and the nutty, plump witch.
I was asked to put together a little passage or two in a poem using powerful imagery within it. To visualize the scene I referred back to the pictures in the children's version of Macbeth, I used Tony Ross' illustrations as a guide to my own drawing and words.(I've only drawn some of the ingredients in the potion spell.)
Here is my effort;
Gather round my sinister sisters
Add the skin of old blisters
The silver of a unicorn's blood
The tail of a rat that died in a flood
Pluck a flaming Phoenix's feather
Crush the leaves of dying heather
Stir in some dark stormy weather
Double, double toil and trouble
Fire burn and cauldron bubble
Shredded skin of a centuries old snake
Wait a minute, let it boil and bake
Broken hoof of a proud centaur
Decaying eye of a crude outlaw
Magic of a golden Unicorn
Fry up its thick horn
Add a black Rose's spiky thorn
Double, double, toil and trouble
Fire burn and cauldron bubble
Head of baby born by force
Scrambled brain of the mother's corpse
Putrid eyeball of a strangled puffin
Chipped talon from a wounded Griffin
Roast a hairy hog and drop it in
Quickly dice up a manky Sharks fin
Mash rotten tomatoes from a year old tin
Double, double, toil and trouble
Fire burn and cauldron bubble
Slimy Salamanders foot
Fishy Otters middle, black like soot
Dead tree's useless root
A Fisherman's dissolving boot
This is all for the grieving Macbeth
But what we need to succeed is...
HIS DEATH!
The three witches in my drawing are all different, the one in green is the leader, the best witch, the most talented of the three, with a seeing crystal for eyes. The second -in blue- takes advice from the eldest and lacks the talent but has sight. The third -in purple- is my favourite, she's plump with stubby legs and long arms, the hairiest by far, (on feet, on legs and all over.) in truth, she's bald and wears a wig with perfect ginger locks.
So there's the talented witch, the student-like witch and the nutty, plump witch.
good poem, but a bit scary, with the babies head and scrambled mothers brains??? Glad they are only fiction!
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