Stuart Miller-Osborne

I often collect sea shells from my local beach Cora later paints them using flour paint Resulting Resulting in what How would you feel if you were a sea creature Who happened to own a shell Only to find that your home Had been decorated without your consent With a paint that you had never…

I still own a denim shop special It is near a naturist beach We mainly sell denim jeans My partner Polly and eye Would use the beach when we could As we liked to look beautiful One day Polly came up with a great idea As Grunge Grot Jeans were fast coming in She would…

The next time we are in the Medway Valley We will walk through the fields Between Wateringbury and East Farleigh The first time we did this I was reading Camus I will be reading Camus again in few days This is our strawberry summer

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I have noticed That when the moon Floods my bedroom Its curvature is strange I stand shyly At my window As I do not want to Attract attention Everything is in order The pond is bathed in light Only the moonrakers Are there busy hunting cheese All About Smugglers Zo the excizeman ‘as ax’d ‘n…

How many guys numbers did you get today Cora and I were in a bar last night When this Arab guy joined us He tried to chat us both up And was annoyingly persistent But instead of telling him to fuck off I told him that you were a vicious gangster I hope you do…

I sometimes hide in the confessional And listen to the wicked sins Of the good people of Harrow Town Some are really juicy and perverted Pearl Necklace Mrs Block You dog’s butt hole Mr Jones It is safer to wear condoms SKS Really I should know As I am the son of a celibate priest…

With Cheddar Cheese Sits on my sketching desk Next to me I am thinking of you But am sketching the lake Pour away the ocean My friend It is nothing but a fake With thanks to Auden

Josie I do hope this finds you As you know I suffer from the odd ear infection I have one at present eczema bloody eczema It makes my hearing a bit muffled So if I am spoken to I will point to my ear Just to be polite Sometimes I feel abandoned by God As…

It creeps up on you quietly Pretending to be friendly That is the way Your poem opens I should be on the farm But choose not to work As the fields are dormant Nothing grows in the dry soil