Stuart Miller-Osborne

You look so attractive Walking around the bedroom In your quiet Breton shirt   How pale your bottom is In the early morning light

You are wearing nothing but your Breton shirt Just to please me as your bottom is bare I have always loved your bare bottom And your simple Breton shirts  

In the Garden of England There lies a railway station I do not remember its name Which is surrounded by fields It was built on a gentle slope But I do not question its balance As it shares its beauty with me  

That warmer weather will return on the low month fade Although for the present a cool north wind might blow Through the blossom flowers and meadow light trees Amaryllis said to me as she looked over the dry stone wall    

Under the hills behind my Camden house There are old mine workings much flooded by the winter rains They are only visited during the pleasure months By single men in search of their lives I have never visited these mines But I have often seen five or more carousels Spinning at night on the gentle…

kosovo dance kosovo theatre   Tears of destruction Can be found In the many streets That surround this theatre   I am seated Behind a thick pillar You cannot see me But I am there   From this position I can see you all Fidgeting in your seats Racked with guilt   English is not…

Whilst relaxing at home I saw the head of a squid emerge from behind a settee I gasped in surprise as I was expecting a steam locomotive

The red and white lid of the first aid box Lay in the waste of the lifeguard’s hut That was the only damage that I could see From the cinnamon journey Others had reported damage But they were dead and beyond care Only I cared enough to ask questions about the incident On page three…

I sketched you in the courtroom and was then asked to record your likeness in the time remaining before your execution You were a serene sitter distant from the violence that awaited you and just before your final journey you suggested a few changes in the nakedness of your cell Later you were forced to…

There is a green hill Not far from my home Where a single lonely cross May be found High above the patchwork fields We visit this hill frequently But the cross remains silent