Stuart Miller-Osborne

I have images of Frida all around my house She appears on my cushions and on my cups And is instantly recognisable Which is not a bad thing at all But in my bedroom I have a painting on the wall By Artemisia Gentileschi In which she portrays herself This work is totally ignored by […]

I had a choice of six plays Each was on a separate stage In miniature   How does your garden grow

Jane this is my last message to you before I leave Do not follow me as I am in a great deal of trouble Jane remember the river is blue and nothing else If I reach Hanoi I will be safe Then I will send for you Remember Blue Then I will send for you […]

From my bourgeois balcony I  can see a blue piano In the middle of the river It hardly interrupts its flow Being a celebration of the all the dead The lonely suicides and those Who have drowned through No fault of their own Occasionally this piano is played By those who remember these tragedies But […]

About a third of the ships that pass this lighthouse are independently owned  I admire their courage in these difficult times  Why do you wear shaded glasses Marek Because my eyes are weak They were damaged as I hid in the city sewers during the war I did not see daylight for weeks on end  […]

Christ died on this beach I admired the honesty of the angels As I was not aware of this fact The later told me that his cross Could still be seen on the sands   There was also a white anchor painted On its damp wood which had refused to fade Despite the continuous attentions […]

I am not the Anti-Christ  You should never  Think that of me  No matter how much you hate me   I do not hate or despise you Charles  I just feel sorry for you  You are trapped in a world  That does not exist  Reality means little or nothing to you    Then why do […]

Camus once spoke about the absurdity of being killed in a car crash  I think that he should have added that it would be just as absurd  To die of a smoking related disease after too many cigarettes  Or to drink oneself to death in middle age  Ophelia smiled at me but averted her gaze […]

My father once told me That we are nearer to war Than we would like to consider      

Last night I had a dream about falling from a cliff On to the smooth and jagged green gleam rocks But I knew that I would not suffer any pain As my name was Ophelia of the Commune   1871