Geography Lovers

To trace the contours
of your breasts;
slow to kiss and then your neck
hands in chestnut hair swim;
the arch of your back
as you tempt me in.

To fall and rise
among the covers
not man and wife
but star-crossed lovers that
peak and climb
to such great heights
on many a moonless,
starless night.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011

An Ocean Apart

Will we ever stand toe-to toe
and forget what to say?

Will we ever spend ten thousand hours
in one expansive day?

More than words will fill you
as verse falls wanting from your
fresh bitten lips;

More than words will fill you
when finally I slow trace
the contours of your hips.

© Copyright D. Archer November 2011

Blanket Verse Quilt

Under you my blanket
yesterday was warm
and without doubt;
this morning the blanket
takes an emotional turn
in the tumble dryer
and the too small summer quilt
leaves my heart cold
and failings sticking out;

Now the tumble dryer is broken
and the blanket is stuck fast;
I fight everyday to get back
my blanket because
I don’t know how long
my winter will last.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011

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.


I stay awake
just to remember your name;
should I go blind tomorrow
I would still see your face;

You are all the words
that come out
and all the air I need
to breathe in;

you may be
half a world away
yet you are closer
than the veins
under my skin.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011 


I wake
to the pillow that held your scent
it lies empty
palm smoothed;
where once we slept
entwined as lovers,
dreamless, guarded by the moon.

I broke every promise
you held so dear;
and for this
back to back
we slept for years.

Now I stare at the clock
that doesn’t tick
its digital face
the only one I kiss;

the moon
my only lover now;
cold, silent; wondering how
will I ever be held again
by arms like scarves against the rain?

to lie hypnotised
drowning deep
in blue-green eyes
I vowed never
to make weep.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011

From her point of view

How did I get a spot on my knee?

Why do chickens have no teeth?

Why do we have ten toes not thirteen?
surely the more toes you have
makes it easier to climb trees?

Anyway, what crime did I commit
to upset all the Gods
so to blight my lower limbs
with tiny yellow headed spots.

If it is a form of punishment
for the things I have done
at least the spots are confined to my knees
and not to the crack of my bum.

Wait! I wonder
if it’s the festering conditions
bred by my unwashed jeans?

No! I digress
I should concentrate
as you try to make love
to me.

This poem is the fear of all men. Especially me.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011 

Something something something

The trouble with writing
poems in bed
when you can’t be arsed
to get up for a pen,
is that you convince yourself
you’re too talented to forget
yet you wake with only fragments,
“what the hell came next?”

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011

Genuine. Written in response to the best poem that was ever written in the history of mankind. The one I wrote that would have changed the course of human history, the one that would have stopped all wars and ended famine because the world would have come together in joyous celebration under the universe. The poem I could not be arsed to write down because it meant getting out of bed and finding a pen.

Mastermind Simplified

My specialist topic on “Mastermind”
would be words beginning with “X”;
it’s not a big section
in the dictionary:
I could learn it all
before I went
to bed.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011