The Ballad of Henry Hughes

There once was a girl
from north of the border
who sent me money by postal order
and though I couldn’t wash her pans or pots,
touch her blankets or door knobs,
she touched my life from miles away
and I miss her
like it was yesterday.


© D. Archer. January 2016


Love lies in the roughest sea,
in the smallest hours,
in a one oared boat,
not in the anonymous promises
of those that lure in calm waters
as sirens circle in the undertow;
soon the unwinding begins
the rope that proffers salvation
forms a seductive silk noose around your neck
and be it by category or allegory
the search for your lungs in another
will only one day leave you
out of breath.

© D. Archer. January 2013. Tweaked in February 2015.

The Morrissey the More I forget!

The trouble with
This Charming Man when
trying to write poetry
listening to your iPod
at the same time

is that there is no Joy
Division in the New Order
of The Beautiful South;

The Morrissey
the more I forget
all my Stevie Wonder thoughts
come to nought;

I feel like The Jam on
a Jimmy Cliff sandwich;
my words Wither like Bill;
tears Weller in my eyes like Paul;

If I knew The Cure
I would Johnny Cash in all
my words
for one minute
with or without

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011 

This poem is also called “The curse of trying to write Poetry when listening to your iPod at the same time”, it’s like a driving your car and trying to do your ironing at the same time, impossible for me anyway..

I find myself lost again

You sit in my one remaining photograph
unburdened eyelids closed
to the coming coloured weather
and I as with all the world behind you
find myself lost again,
drowning in life’s undertow,
blindly never thinking
until you went
you would ever
really go.

© David Archer. May 2013

To dream is a wonderful thing

OK, now I have no idea if this is going to work but in the spirit of reckless New Year challenges I have made an attempt at a You Tube Video. Thankfully, I have a face for radio so its just an audio track with some Adobe After Effects malarky going on in the background.

Any comments would be welcome especially if you cant view or hear the video on your device. Depending on the response, more or less will follow.



Learning how to forget

Rain falls like my expectations,
black crow in the clearing waits
to feed on hope
that dare raise its head;
all the coloured birds are gone
and another day slips out reach
just as yesterday met its end.

We never talk about the silence,
the uninvited distance,
the clinging pain that taunts me to
“learn how to forget”;
bitter nicotine leaves my cold split lips
as I stand alone
staring at the stars
outnumbered only by the tears I shed.

© D. Archer. January 2013

Word shaped wounds

After the words come the wounds,
some deeper than others,
some visceral, some flesh:
the past, still a shallow grave,
thin skimmed with distance
we know why we buried it,
just can’t remember
if its somewhere in the real world,
or deeper, in my head.

© D. Archer. December 2012