Stuart Miller-Osborne

I could taste the warm summer rain On breeze It cooled my crisp cotton shirt I followed the hollowness Of the passing bells And traced my footsteps in the sand

There was a feel of rain on the beach But I did not care as we were in the sea I had visited this area on many occasions But never grew tired of its natural beauty

Gray Eyes Calm Nordic A Kind of Sweet Love

Yeux Gris Calme Nordique Une sorte d’amour doux

I wanted to be a housewife A homemaker A little woman Fucked once a week Masturbating on others But I became a female politician And lost any appeal I ever had I am supposed to care But I was an introvert Trying to be an extrovert I support this cause and that cause But truthfully…

I am currently sharing a studio In Bridgwater Somerset With Josephine of the South We are both artists She is from La Ciotat Which to my surprise Is twinned with my current town I once waited for a delayed train At La Ciotat railway station In the searing summer heat Which led to me to…

This is what seventy years of nature Does to an abandoned railway track It seems like the country air has been sucked From a once pristine chalk cutting The nearby field betrays its archaeology A pattern of parallel ridges and troughs Caused by years of prolonged ploughing These were ghostly long before the railway arrived…

I was sitting a distance away Looking directly into The white bright sun You were near the tide line Your features quite blurred I could see that you Were wearing my shades Tracey Phillips Full of Love

Red should be in Bed I said to Hazel in the Shed I would not be seen Dead In this decaying shed Fred And that is the Gospel Truth

I collect amethysts Hidden in rocks Which I needlessly find Whilst beachcombing On rare days of beauty