Stuart Miller-Osborne

Have you noticed that most Catholic Churches On the continent tended to employ artists Who were asked to glorify the Holy Family But there were exceptions like the one in Arles Which celebrates the life of Martin de Nîmes Who saved the church during a terrible storm

I would not say that she was forward But Adam’s girlfriend thought nothing Of walking around the flat wearing Nothing but a pair of white jeans And sometimes less than that She noted that her parents were naturists And that was the way she was brought up My parents were and still are explorers But […]

I only dream on magical nights We are on a steep hill With all the fiery lanes Draped in thick smoke The choir and the musicians Have been arranged On narrow terraces The concert is about to begin Ladies and Gentlemen Please take your seats The concert is about to begin

Although I have never worked there The depot at the end of my road Is supposed to be haunted By the ghost of a Swiss girl Who was murdered on a train Between fifty and sixty years ago Normally I would ignore these stories But of late I have seen a red glow Emitting from […]

And now rests Not in obscurity But near a runway

The sisters owned a wool shop Charlotte in a State Which was on the corner Of All Saints Road South And All Saints Road North Between 1820 and 1962 All Saints Road East Had run in the direction Of the railway station But this had been truncated When the Wood Green bypass Was built to […]

If anything needed to be organised In Wood Green then it would be passed To Kitty who was Tabitha’s elder sister Summer Fete’s were her speciality No suggestion would be ignored These were hugely popular in the district And were part of the summer calendar In 2026 the Wood Green Summer Fete Would be celebrating […]

On our trip across the USA Karin and I visited New Mexico As I was working on my Weston book I had been researching Tina Modotti But Karin suggested Charis Wilson Which presented difficulties As Weston’s famous photographs Were shot in the Oceano Dunes And not the White Sands of New Mexico As we were […]

Ragged I am a traveller I came here With hundreds of others To see Sigiriya Since all the others Chose to write poems I chose not to do so As I am not a poet

I listened to the message given by her A bee who has seen the full-blown lotuses She bewildered this heart of mine I was consoled without measure