Stuart Miller-Osborne

I was conceived in pleasure In a small cottage Rented for a week Deep in the flat lands of Kent My parents were students Late of their college rooms This changed their lives Although it made little difference to me It was a bumpy road Much improved by their parents And in time they both…

I am only but your reflection If you do not like What you see Then turn away

I would like to connect with people But find this almost impossible As I paint my mirrors black

I am a poet and am told That I am a good poet Whatever a good poet is But I am not celebrated Nor should I be celebrated In plush theatres Full of excitement

This is all that I added to my recent postcard My mistress is happy and well This is all that I have ever added to my postcards I am often asked why I engage in this repetition

During the softer hours I run a cinema On the beach This has proved To be very popular With our seasonal visitors

Was partially hidden by hanging trees And was surrounded by buttercup fields That faded gently into the river marshes It was here that I noticed the early blossoms Descending whilst deep on breeze And being taken quietly by low waters

I am currently serving in a submarine It is a hazardous occupation And before each voyage I am gifted a book of poetry By my loving sisters Anne and Jayne My most recent gift was The Works of Tennyson Where inside I found the following dedication Presented to David Willie On his 8th Birthday Nov…

Whenever Edith Erotic play near me I will attend one of their lively concerts They are well known punk industrial group With a dedicated following I like their lively music But I am not obsessed with it The reason that I favour this group Is that I lived with Edith for two years We were…

The only book that was freely available at the camp The Love Triangles of Italian Poets It was available in three languages But sadly not in English Which left me at a disadvantage So I went into the pink and violet town And purchased a weathered book So that I might better understand poets L’énigme…