Author: Stuart Miller-Osborne

  • The Beginnings of Science Fiction

    On the 7th of November 1948 a forty nine year old Hungarian man was hit by a newspaper van in Epsom Surrey. He died of his injuries in hospital later that evening. No inquest into the incident was ever held and no record exists of his place of burial. The van driver was never traced. […]

  • The Cricket Matches of August

    The thin girl and her piebald friend measured the boundary breezes for exactly one hour They offered their findings to both clubs in turn each declined noting that the wind has many realities     On the 11th of August 2012 both Theale and Sulhamstead & Ufton Cricket Clubs played home fixtures at their respective […]

  • Hildergart Rodriguez

    When I inherit The gifts of strangers I shall bathe with the setting sun And consider The silence of my congress.

  • Saartje Specx

    In that early passion did her first blood sour these countries without borders or did it stain the last breath of the wretched boy ? 1974

  • Last Light (Winter)

    In the palm of these hills I will ride tigers And we will devour This ruined day.   c 1978

  • Randall Biography

    He was born on a commune At the age of two his parents lent him to other families They received his sisters in return As a boy he collected The likenesses of failed acrobats And often visited their graves He never cared for travelling But always kept a lamp bright By his map of the […]

  • Ten Stories With A Moral Ending

    Trowbridge There is a station sign under the bridge at Trowbridge Railway Station in Wiltshire. It is black and white and dates from the early 1970s. It is the only one of its type on the station and is mostly ignored which is a pity as it has a secondary activity as an encyclopaedia. I […]

  • Neglect

    using watercolour I will only paint yellow flowers in the desert

  • Laika’s Orbit

    Take no notice Of her travels Her dusts lay quietly On these streets.

  • Stanzas for Music

    I loved a little maiden In the golden years gone by She lived at the mill, as they all do (There is doubtless a reason why) In the year before her ashes I spoke to her at length In the grasses near the yew tree (Where now lies all her strength)   From a poem […]