Author: Stuart Miller-Osborne

  • Victor

    What irritates me about you Is your lack of spontaneity You consider yourself A spontaneous creature Which you are not You are nothing Just a lump of nothingness In an infinite universe I apologise if my words have hurt you But this is how I feel Victoria x

  • Taking the Piss

    On a mild yet windy December evening I visited the bathroom to meet my coffee Something I had done many times before It was a familiar yet tedious occupation Yet this was a special moment for an errant spider Because I spotted it fall into my piss pool I was in a dilemma as it […]

  • 103 Days of Summer

    Does summer last 103 days Possibly I think that we fall just short June 30/July 31/ August 31 Adds up to 92 days That is a very cut glass approach It always amazes me How many people do not like summer As I adore every second of the season I just feel very happy The […]

  • Chas of Happiness

    Look but do not touch Are we going to an art gallery The diary of my life part nine Why do I prefer women Because their lips are softer Men have such rough lips Also women are easier To understand Even the kindest of men Have locked in secrets I once retired to a hippy […]

  • Samuel Salt

    Short Days Long Nights Iced Winds Salt Roads A Diary Nearing Completion The Diary of Samuel Salt

  • The Last Passenger

    Laxham Hill is about three miles from railway station of Stephenson Even in the summer it is a high desolate place prone to sudden mists As you can imagine in the winter months it is very bleak With the short darkening hours suffocating the daylight very quickly Diary Note Samuel Salt There was nothing really […]

  • Victoria Cosmos

    Juliet I found these words in a notebook Deep in a suitcase This suitcase once belonged To Victoria Cosmos (or so it seems) A random notebook Of many years Vacant apart from the following words A Short Life Luke 3:23 A Mother now Lost This is quite random Although there are clues Victoria Cosmos is […]

  • A Silk Painting

    I was once given A silk painting By an admirer The young Buddha Practising archery It hangs above my bed

  • In the Direction of Cows

    I later wrote In the Direction of Cows And was executed

  • I was a Poet

    I was a famous poet And then I wrote Duck Thoughts I am no longer a famous poet