Stuart Miller-Osborne

What are you reading Stephen Le silence d’Egon Is it about the artist Yes What is written on your wall Wow what a Gymnast Did you write that No Then who I have no idea It was there when I moved in Is it true that he was arrested Yes Why History is not clear…

I am walking at my normal pace But the world has slowed down Time is passing backwards In front of my eyes Bof Bop Bop Bof Bof Bop LuLu in Red Shorts

I must go down to the seas again to the lonely sea and the sky What are you doing Susie Reading a poem by John Masefield Which one Sea Fever He was related to Stephen Stephen Stephen Masefield my predecessor I thought that was your pseudonym No he was a real person Does he still…

Susie will arrive on the Hastings train As the church clock strikes twelve Well at least I hope she does As I will be waiting for her on the platform We plan to spend our day in the town of Battle The last time we planned this it rained all day And our adventure was…

I must say that I enjoyed the Portugal v Slovenia game last night It was played at full speed fast forward and was entertaining throughout I could have done without the Tiny Tears from CR7 Footballers should not weep You do not see the real men of rugby having a boo This said what superb…

Summers to me are days that do not darken bright colours beautiful perfumed gardens happy hours by the sea This year it is all about elections Here in the UK it is likely that the comrades will get in which if you think about it is worrying as really they do not have a clue…

Is a Native American friend of mine He is distantly related to Sounds of The Plains Who fought at Little Bighorn The odd thing is that Eileen Hank and I Are distantly related to John Martin

That is a rather daft thing to say Sammy Soo Why Because Charlie Boy died in 1905 and according to the gutter newspapers Miss Swift is still going strong I was being surreal Really It is obvious to me that this could not happen But is it not surreal that academic institutions have included Miss…

I used to find her at the foot of my bed Sketching quietly with a small pencil She told me that she was trying To capture my fading dreams Sometimes she wore a gown Sometimes a blanket loosely wrapped I still have her dream sketches on my wall But the artist no longer lives in…

The music of a beach at low tide I do not raise my eyesAs nobody else is reading poetry On this promenade today