Stuart Miller-Osborne

The Webster Man I met with Webster once more in the lane leading to the white horse He had aged since our previous meeting but the horse had not aged at all   Ideal The weather vane greeted the dawn with an indifference not seen for many years even the joyful cock refused to crow […]

Simon One looked at the marshlands Which had been lit by the full light Of the new moon Her memories hung in the silk mist He never forgot them   Five hundred years later Simon Five stood on the same spot The marshes had been drained And dwellings built nearby He looked at the new […]

A number of years ago a memorial card remembering the life of the Reverend Thomas Francis Keily was found in his hymn book which he had carried since his early days. Thomas was born in Waterford in January 1805 and died in Huddersfield in May 1836. As he travelled between the waters of his childhood […]

He was the second of three sisters and lived normally until he was nine when he suffered colour blindness. At the age of twenty-one he wrote his solitary poem. Sibling X   When Jessica took a shower she noticed that the descending spray travelled with economy over the cherry red tiles. She was watched by […]

Aside the brook Beneath the trees This is the haunt Of the dreaming bees You sent this rhyme to me in a velvet envelope but addressed it to a David Hathaway who lives in the hills far from here. He does not care for The Poetry of Empire. Your writings should have never left the […]

Do not climb the emperors staircase as my attentive thoughts will desert you At all times I carry a likeness of my father I will not listen to your raiders songs    

Lost by a distant visitor In these tunnels of energy Rescued by an honest man Dreaming of Arnos Grove     In 1912 Tagore the Indian poet visited London with his son. On the voyage to England by sea he took the time to translate his poems contained in a note book. When in London […]

Let the bees dance to the Falco tune as their honey melts and covers the world   1990    

rhododendronsonthegoodwinsands arepuzzledbythesea butappriciatethelightsoframsgate      

In the shadows lie the conspirators hidden from the fields of bliss by the dampness of her veil under plain pink skies   1977