Stuart Miller-Osborne

I am often asked why I write poetry It is highly likely that finer poets exist My only goal if there is such thing Is to teach my students to think and see There is no other reason for my pen

Whereof one cannot speak Thereof one must be silent

I visited Margit in Berlin Poems previously written She has been asked to illustrate The lingering scents of my flowers

April and Maye were often asked Why their Chihuahua Had such a strange name It might as well have been called Apple Merry Weather Which was just as absurd

My God is full of Love So it stands to reason That I should be full of love But that is not the case As I am full of hate Deep tormented hate I wish ill on all those Who offend me Silly Boy

There is a hamlet in East Sussex Which has a strange name It is thought to date From the eleventh century My cousin Elodie lives there In a small thatched cottage

Would it make you happy If I removed my shirt I am not wearing a bra And have very firm breasts It would give me pleasure But it would not make me happy Why would my display Not make you happy Because I am still mourning my dog There is only one passion The passion…

My study for some unknown reason Overlooks my neighbours wet room Which can be rather distracting I have written many letters to her But she ignores them without comment And bathes each day at nine fifteen

My study for some unknown reason Overlooks the wet room which can be distracting When my housekeeper takes a shower We occasionally have sex But she finds me rather boring As the best mannered people Make the most absurd lovers

I commenced my fall Just over five minutes ago If I pass you on the way down Please wave to me As this is a lonely journey