Ephemeral (poem)


Nothing lasts forever
not even love,
if we lived in a world
where love didn't die
so easily, maybe
I would still love you
or you still love me
but we don't
we live in a world
where love often seems

Joanne Fisher

Word count: 43

This was written with the prompt ephemeral provided by Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #312.

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©️2023 Joanne Fisher


The Offering (poem)

Illustration by Louis-Maurice Boutet de Monvel

The Offering

through the flames
I see the English soldiers
happily watching my body
burn to ash

a witch they called me,
yet my visions were
from God, I swear

what is divine
on one side seems
demonic to the 


I led armies to victory
in Orleans, and gained
access to Reims
for a new king
to be crowned

all the while dressed
in armour, unusual
for a woman, maybe

but what else could
this soldier of God wear?


though I die this day
though the Church calls me
a heretic
though my remains will
be thrown into the Seine -

let the world
make of me

whatever it will

Joanne Fisher

I’m not sure why I’ve written a poem about Joan of Arc, but it popped into my head, though she is a very intriguing historical figure.

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©️2023 Joanne Fisher

If You Could Be Here (poem)

If You Could Be Here

it's always easy to wish
we hadn't gone separate ways

often I dream you are with me
everyday I write a letter in my head

you would have loved it here:
the perfect stillness in the heat

fields of wheat looking like
a Van Gogh painting

lazily swaying in the breeze
the line of mountains on the

horizon leading to forever,
though sometimes I wish

we had wolves so I could
join them howling in the dark,

my letters to you always
ramble, never reaching an end

as I am always truly dazzled
by the beauty of this world

Joanne Fisher

Word count: 99

This was written with the prompt to write a story as a love letter to nature (though I wrote a poem) provided by the Carrot Ranch February 6 Story Challenge.

I haven’t written much lately as last week we had a heatwave, I also had to get the flat clean for an inspection, and there was another personal crisis which I won’t go into. None of these were conducive to sitting down and focusing on new work, but the next few days should be clear so I can work on some further stories…

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©️2023 Joanne Fisher

Antiquarian (poem)


Life is hectic being a bibliopole
being very busy sure can take its toll
searching through dusty halls like some restless mole
to find an ancient tome left in some hole
then selling it for a fortune is my goal

Joanne Fisher

Word count: 39 + prompt

This was written with the prompt bibliopole provided by Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #286

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©️2022 Joanne Fisher

The Stars Below (poem)

The Stars Below

feverishly scratching
on a manuscript
all day all night

the words drumming
leaking through
your matchstick fingers
onto the blotted parchment

a spider dancing
across the page
with ink stained legs

"the stars!"

you mutter
to a shadowy room

"the stars!"

the windows shuttered
the doors firmly bolted


the stars
tell me everything
I know!"

Joanne Fisher

As I’m still recovering I thought I would share an older poem that I don’t think I’ve published here before. The title is stolen from an Ursula K. Le Guin short story. That story is about a mind that’s been turned inward, and so is this poem. This poem is also about the creative process and the intense focusing on what you’re working on to the exclusion of everything else…

I’ve been rather ill over the last few days, which is why I haven’t published anything here for a time, but I am getting better and normal service should resume shortly 🙂

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©️2022 Joanne Fisher

Over My Dead Body (Day3, 13 Days of Samhain)

Over My Dead Body

Over my dead body
they piled rock and stone
charms and enchantments
all to ensure that
I could never return

they were pitiful fools
for their futile efforts

inevitably I will transcend death
once more
I will rise up 
rule the world
and everything in it

this time
nothing can stop me

Joanne Fisher

This was written with the prompt Over My Dead Body provided by Sammi Cox’s 13 Days of Samhain.

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©️2022 Joanne Fisher

Superimposed (poem)


you're always superimposed
on my memories, so
no matter where I go
or whatever I do
there you are
topmost in my thoughts

I would never admit it openly,
but I miss you a lot of the time
so wherever I am I always
take you with me, 
and now I'm unsure 
how this could ever change

Joanne Fisher

Word count: 57 + prompt

This was written with the prompt superimpose provided by Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #279.

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©️2022 Joanne Fisher

Broken Glass (poem)

Broken Glass

I travel down to Dunedin
bearing two wineglasses
delicately hand-painted
like stained glass
but broken

& you sit cross-legged
on the your bare wooden floor
trying to make something
greater than its pieces

another puzzle to sort out
like your jigsaws
like the both of us

with no final pattern
discernible yet

imagine if there was someone
who could piece together
my own fragments -

I too could be a

Joanne Fisher

First published in JAAM 12

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©️2022 Joanne Fisher