Ismene
As I sit and write the rhyme,
The churchbells toll and chime
The toll for her I dearly love
She's gone on home, her home above.
Her skin is pale, a deathly pallor
Her eyes are wide, her lips are bright.
She yells and shouts, a silent scream
Her life is gone; a darkened light.
The tears I cried will never dry
The blood I shed before I die
My life is empty, my sister gone
Creon will weep before the dawn.
The End
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
Ismene, which
was posted on Feb 1, 2012 by
Sarianetta.
This is a solo poem.
About this poem
"Ever heard of Antigone? Well what the world happens to her sister? the answer..."
This poem is filed under:
Just for Fun
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