Stuart Miller-Osborne

I was sitting at a potters wheel With a visitor from another planet We were throwing pots And then decorating them with beautiful flowers Freshly picked from my rural garden I looked at my alien friend And wondered which one of us actually belonged

I am dining with visitors from another planet They are excessively fragile And will shatter at the slightest touch Tomorrow I will be showing them All the castles that we have and will invite them To choose one as their official residence

I am a theatre director You may have seen some of my productions I often work with Mary Lewis Who I met at Oxford many years ago Mary is a brittle actress Who is very choosy about her work And because of that she has the reputation Of being very hard to work with But…

You were ripped from your historic plinth Where you had resided for many years Your face was bloodied by the baying mob And then you were cast into the waters of a harbour Is this the Theatre of the Absurd I wonder Or have we all travelled to a parallel universe without knowledge

Under the blue lights Your skin Your Dress And your shoes Looked different Under the red lights Your skin Your Dress And your shoes Looked different Under the white lights Your skin Your Dress And your shoes Looked much as I remembered them   I spent the rest of that day and the next Thinking…

The Green Gate You are standing naked by the green gate With your head slightly bowed I wanted to stay and sleep on your breasts But the trains will not run without me   Nude Beach  You are walking between the dunes How beautiful you are On days such as this The beach awaits you…

Do I dare or do I dare To consider the properties Of her maiden hair

In the room where my sisters come and go I am sleeping with Michelangelo They ignore my fine body on their bed As this exists within my head

You will only exist for a short time As the bleak tides come and go But during your brief life You will give pleasure To your many visitors Who will paddle quietly In your warm waters And admire the sinister black crabs In their hidden homes        

You lay half hidden in the fine sand I will not disturb you As I am only interested in your mystery