Stuart Miller-Osborne

Why is it that when you film a scudding moon In the early hours of the morning That you trip over a black cat Who blames you for the accident

She had planned across to travel across Amerika But then she became ill When she was hit by a truck on a railroad crossing It was either the truck or the train The train won She survived With a broken leg and three broken fingers A doctor devoted to God Fixed her as much as […]

Chocolate covered hearts Float in the white mists Within the elliptical orbits of Solaris

My mother read the Daily Mirror As she ate her lunch in the shadow Of our Welsh dresser and the awkward drapes My father who did not care for socialists Read the Daily Telegraph in his easy chair He complained about its size but did very little Timothy Louise read Grandpa’s Times He was very […]

I have been travelling for almost two years Looking for something as yet undefined My unknown reflections haunt me But I am aware of the perfumes That follow me along every road

The battle was nearly over With the last pockets of resistance Being efficiently neutralised Thomas J Banks Stared into the forest Nothing living was left His only thought Was as bleak as his station How Many Niggers Have I Killed Today this is not a war poem

I watched as Caroline Broke up with her boyfriend She was staring into the middle distance Her eyes were expressionless I could hear his muffled pleading But she did not reply A single tear ran down her cheek

I was waiting for a train at Gare du Nord When I noticed a girl smiling at me From a carriage window The girl reminded me of an actress With her saucer brown eyes And short dark hair

One mans accepted freedoms Can be seen as another mans prison

Have you ever been on holiday and when you return Things have changed and it is not really the same You feel like your cherished memories have soured I can see your point Lynda but these new memories Might actually be superior to your previous ones