Stuart Miller-Osborne

The redundant locks were soon filled with rubbish I brought up eight children here all of which survived Edward was the brightest one and became a magistrate The Julie twins entered service and married well Alfred although lame was successful in business I was a poet and an artist of some local repute The actress […]

Happy are the spirits that cloud this room As we talk about the desert trains passing One per hour and three at other times Most of my slow memories are taken From old photographs and other dreams

When writing I am often asked Why many of my books Have downbeat endings Maybe they just reflect life Which is not always that happy

The orange sun had turned pink The sea had retained its hour

The horizon had almost vanished Into the history of this day

Next to the agents decaying offices There was a small shop Selling almost everything It was quite heavily used By passing barges And to the day of its closure Always turned a small profit After the abandonment of this part of the arm The shop and the canal side offices were demolished Some of the […]

She is in my view rather nice And lacks the brashness Of her more confident sister Her perfumes are almost invisible Which adds to her subtle beauty Although they do share the white

History does not repeat itself  But sometimes it rhymes  That is why I am  a poet  If I was not a poet  I would be an assassin 

I often watch my friends collecting apples  It is a peaceful way to pass summer hours Apples are the most acceptable of fruits  And can often be found in ordered gardens 

Genius is of no country (Charles Churchill) Genius is nothing but continued attention (Claude Adrien Helvetius) The degree of genius necessary to please us is pretty nearly the same proportion that we ourselves have (Claude Adrien Helvetius) Be England what she will, with all her faults she is my country still (Charles Churchill) A joke’s […]