Stuart Miller-Osborne

Was born in London but lives in Valencia She is married to another high ranking cop On the 25th of May she was assigned to the case Of the missing woman and the red car found in a lake The car belonged to Inspector Lyn Bardoe and had been stolen From a car park near […]

The red car could be clearly seen from the road The authorities feared the worst but found nothing It was whist investigating the incident at the lake That a regional freight train ran into a soda lorry At an automatic level crossing on the edge of the city No fatalities were reported although much damage […]

I should have sensed the danger A woman in a red dress Driving a small red car But I still stopped to help her And that is when my problems began

Because of my total brain fog I missed the last train You offered me a bed for the night Which I refused as I wanted To be at the head of the queue For the first train into the city Layla Lee

Your mum and dad or so the poem goes I am told that a chap named Pa Larkin Or somebody with a similar name wrote it In some ways I agree with this poem As my father soon fucked off After attacking and infecting my junkie mum I am halfway through a three year stay […]

My wife and I stayed here twice Whilst she was recovering It was a small coastal cottage Which in keeping with neighbours Had been painted deep yolk yellow It had also been tastefully decorated But what made it stand out Was a large painting of Venus Victrix Which could be seen from the street I […]

In the greater shape of things All traitors are legitimate targets They know who they are Is a traitor someone who disagrees with you Perhaps but it goes further than that Martha Deep down unless deluded they know That they are malignant creatures Your world is so clear Joe It is totally black and white […]

after the battle the river tasted of blood and the bitter tears of the dead

Gail stocked some of my poetry books Which were mainly written in English Although I was fluent in both German and French

To shelter from the impossible sun I popped into Gail’s Bookshop Whilst there I met another poet A Spanish Hungarian girl named Luna I was very impressed with her poem About the dreams lives of ravens and crows