Stuart Miller-Osborne

When she was seventeen years old Gretta was involved in a serious accident She was knocked off her bicycle By an uninsured and inebriated car driver As the result of this she lost part of her left leg Which should have been a disaster for her But it was the beginning of her literary career […]

The bare branches of the winter trees Were sinking into a liquidity That was hard to describe There were many thoughts All were accurate

Flying through this poem Like a beautiful parrot

It is not a box of delights But the summit of a tall bookcase Where I have collected various treasures For no particular reason apart from display Pocahontas a doll given to me by a friend A small golden piano in a matchbox A bust of Our Lady in a night blue shawl PAPA is my […]

my sister always plays her piano in the nude she never turns as only her piano dares to speak

Far away there in the sunshine are my highest aspirations I may not reach them But I can look up and see their beauty That is lovely Joe Is it one of yours No not at all Louisa May Alcott I have read her books She was very talented I do miss the sunshine you […]

They called my wife Country Cute This was because of her Light flaxen hair Which she wore longer Than conventional styles Her cornflower eyes Added to her rural charm I stood quite motionless In the shadow of a window And admired my beautiful wife As she drifted around our room

This is the address of my second home It is on the edge of Whitby With views across the town Snow has fallen intermittently During the last few hours And the hillside has become treacherous I was planning to walk Rufus before dark But might give it a miss Or truncate my ambitions As I […]

If there was a hospital in Scarborough I was there in intensive care Wired up to the national grid I had collapsed without cause An ambulance was summoned A heart attack a stroke or just the hotel coffee The cause was unknown From my bed I could see Frank and Stella Stella was weeping silently […]

For at least an hour I stood outside The Grand Hotel High above Scarborough Sands I tried to assure myself That this Victorian pile was not that high And that if you looked at it mathematically Then it was no more than thirty feet up (Room 69 was just thirty feet above this street) The […]