Restless (poem)

Restless


I hide away, my insides churning
in a restless world forever turning
always seemingly on the brink of burning


Joanne Fisher

Word count: 19

This was written with the prompt restless provided by Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #206

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©️2021 Joanne Fisher

Wolf Hunt (poem)

Wolf Hunt


you who encourages
the wolf that bites
and injures, that 
mutilates and weakens

you pretend to be trying 
to stop it, but
instead you
scratch it behind the ears

your homes are wolf-proof
just hearing it howl outside
your door, but sometimes
you find fur across your path
and what was staring through
your windows last night?

in other places the wolf
can get through the holes
in the roof, the thin cracks
in the door, or can be heard
scuttling across the rotting
boards

and while you're sitting secure
unworried about all the death
and decay in the street, your
silence will end

you will open your door
to find white sharp teeth
and blood on your doorstep


Joanne Fisher


This was a poem I wrote when I was younger…

I’m thinking about putting The Oracle story on hiatus. There has a been a sharp decline in interest in the story. I know the main character is not an easy person to like, but that was sort of the point of it… When I bring it back I’ll probably truncate the story so it ends sooner than I was planning. There was going to a be a build up of tension on the ship. but I can always allude to it later in the story. The latest installment of Contraband has also not done so well, but as there is only one more episode to come, I’m not as concerned about that.

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©️2021 Joanne Fisher

the groynes (poem)

the groynes

come down to the sea

they say

do you not hear them

calling you?

hear them whispering

beside you

in the sea breeze?

beyond the reclaimed

groynes they call

to join them

 and once you are

trapped in the

undertow unable

to breathe

that is when they

have you

their mottled green

hands holding

you under what

do they say?

welcome to the deeps

sea-daughter

become one of us and

live forever in these

sea-green depths but

you struggle

break free rising

to the surface

before running out

of breath

you have escaped

this time

Joanne Fisher

Word count: 95

This was written with the photo prompt provided by Crimson’s Creative Challenge #119.

Is anyone else having problems with the Block Editor? They seem to have changed it again. This is my eighth attempt to write this post. The preformated block I’ve been using lately for my poetry seems to have been changed and doesn’t seem to work the same as it did. I’m getting sick of this…

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©️2021 Joanne Fisher

She Said (poem)

She Said...


She said I don't care about most people
         but I like you

she said I want to be with you
         forever

she said I love you


*


she said I don't want to come around 
         anymore

she said I thought I loved you once
         but now I'm not so sure

she said I'm sick of you


and I was pushed under
    the dark waves


Joanne Fisher



This was previously published on my blog in June 2018.

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©️2021 Joanne Fisher

Daddy by Sylvia Plath (poetry)

"Daddy" by Sylvia Plath

You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.

Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time--
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal

And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.

In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend

Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.

It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene

An engine, an engine
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.

The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.

I have always been scared of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You--
 
Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.

You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not 
Any less the black man who

Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.

But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look

And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I'm finally through.
The black telephone's off at the root,
The voices just can't worm through.

If I've killed one man, I've killed two--
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.

There's a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through.

12 October, 1962

Sylvia Plath died this day in 1963. This is one of her more well-known poems.

Beyond Reach (poem)

Beyond Reach

I meet her in the deeps

seaweed in her hair

and she smiles at me

tantalising promises

every time I reach out

she escapes from my touch

when I’m on the beach

she is there by the waters edge

she beckons to come closer

but once I approach,

she slips back into the sea

the waves, she says to me,

the waves are relentless

once you find yourself

going under

you are forever lost

among the kelp and sea-water

Joanne Fisher

Second stanza begins “when I’m on the beach”. Third stanza begins “the waves, she says to me”.

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©️2021 Joanne Fisher