You have two ears for a reason

We say
the most
with our
mouth shut;

I feel
the most
when we
do not
touch.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011 

I was just thinking of my mum who says “you have two ears and one mouth, make sure you use them in that proportion”.

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Dirty Thursday

You in my shirt leaves me
in a state of unrest;
you make the coffee
I make the bed;

You enter the bathroom
and use it like a tardis
you emerge like a butterfly
and I see how grey
my life is;

do not stray too close to me
do not step into my cage
but please drop by
and drop more of your clothes
not just on Thursdays.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011

My Tyburn Tree

shining kaleidoscopic white
she bleaches my eyelids
out from the inside;

the sun is shining
the sky is blue
my head overflows;
memories of two;

it all will fade
you will tire;
others with a lighter smile
will call to take you higher;

does the sun really shine
or do the clouds just give way?
free to think this forever
I kick the stool under me
away.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011 

Another open book

My life is an open book
but the pages are blank
so I am fucked.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011

Thought long and hard about the profanity and today is a day for profanity, if I watered it down I would be running away; again.

For this I paid full price

This morning weighs
as much as
all the wheels
on this bus;
I’m tyred;
I’ve lost the ticket;
I paid full price
and I’m desperate
to get off.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011

A bad day. Apologies for the pun.

The Rules of Exhaustion

Write every poem
as if it were the last
you would ever write;

bleed every emotion
from your life into every
word and line;

then seal it
in a letter to yourself
to give you comfort
just before your time;

if it makes you smile
with your last breath
your work is done
and you may pass
to rest.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011 

My Silent Witness

You, my peerless outcrop
born of millennia
against all elements you resist;
yet this relentless northerly depression
will, in ten thousand years,
cut even you beyond belief;

Many will trespass in your shadow
their footsteps pooled with
unseasonal grey;
rivulets in war-horse tracks swollen;
overgrown with weathered weeds
that survive despite brushed
near horizontal;

Respectful travellers will ask
you bear them directions and
piercing the low slung clouds you
steer them to villages sparse;
adrift, in the blurred valleys beneath;

In reflective guidance
with the palest moonlight against your glacial,
dark scarred skin you skim
a salient path to where they may rest;

They plan journeys homeward
over half pan horizons
back to guest house, shower and bed;
you remain my silent witness
until the sun breaks through swaddling clouds
and those lost in the heather
are found dead.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011 

 

An Empty Tank

The last time I looked
you were not me;
not even a ghost
but a shadow
you see;

It is on the inside
not the skin;
it is dark
when the sun shines;

trust me
the tank of empathy
is empty
for what I
have within.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011 

Atlantic

I do not
know you;
you do not
know me;
curse the ocean
between us;
burn every sea;
boil every river
until they are
but dust;
then I will
run to you;
then we will
touch.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011