The Three Disappointments of Pedro Arturo — O at the Edges

The Three Disappointments of Pedro Arturo The difficulty lies in denying the rest, pretending the denouement remains unknotted like that length of rope looped over the branch, unable to serve its purpose. I regret nothing, but often wish that I had dangled my feet in the stream more often and felt the trout wriggle [â€Ļ]

The Three Disappointments of Pedro Arturo — O at the Edges

For the first time ever I’m sharing a post on WordPress. I love this poem and love reading it out loud. Robert Okaji is a brilliant poet who I follow on WordPress. I hope you love this too…

Astounding (poem)


eerie howling on the forest trail
the scared traveler felt rather frail
a wolf it surely sounded like
astounding to see it riding a bike

Joanne Fisher

Word count: 24 + prompt

This was written with the prompt eerie provided by Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #210.

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Šī¸2021 Joanne Fisher

Austin Street Revisited (poem)

Austin Street Revisited

everything's still here
on a smaller scale -

the driveway
                         not so steep
the park
                 not so large
the creek
                  not so wide

once this suburb
was the centre 
of the universe

the land dreamt
and created me
I walked away
into a wider world

but I am still here -

playing in the park
                                     with my siblings
avoiding the creek
                                    where the pirates lurk
escaping the boys
                                   from across the road

running up the driveway
                                                to home

Joanne Fisher

This is another older poem that I’ve reworked. It’s more sentimental than the other ones which is probably why I don’t like it as much. Our house at Austin Street was the first house I remember living in (though it wasn’t actually the first). My brother and I visited the place around twenty years later to find it was exactly the same as we remembered it, though everything seemed smaller. Funny that. In these pictures my house was the white one with the pale green roof.

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Šī¸2021 Joanne Fisher

The Vampires (poem)

The Vampires

after all
they do exist
always coming for you
in the dark

standing in Stygian doorways
grasping for the ones
filled with light
like a hand smothers
a candle

they whisper 
flattery, their
words hissing
through their
white perfect

to puncture
your fragile skin
and blood-gorge
on the spirit
leaving you

hollow and broken
and diminished

Joanne Fisher

This is another older poem., though I gave it a rather severe edit.

Not literally about vampires, but people who drain your energy, or use you for their own purposes….

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Šī¸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

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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Šī¸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


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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Šī¸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

she said I love you


she said I don't want to come around 

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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Šī¸2021 Joanne Fisher