Stuart Miller-Osborne

What are you in for I stabbed a magistrate I slashed his thighs Was he badly injured No Why did you commit such a crime It was because of the way he spoke to me He made me look small a common thief I am a thief as I embezzled a film company But I […]

Jazz is for ordinary people Jane I am not ordinary Will

What have you been doing all day What do you see Unfinished paintings I also began reading the Alain Fournier poems Thank you for the book That was so sweet of you Have we any milk No the bottle is stale Nina I asked you to buy some milk Guilty sorry I forgot I will […]

Tetbury is a happy town with a village atmosphere People are friendly and care for each other Far away from all the modern woes In my book I note that that through honesty and hard work Tetbury has got her dynamics just right Which promotes much happiness The Cinema of Churches and Schools is really […]

In our small town we have one cinema and three schools One Catholic one Anglican and one Independent The cinema built in 1922 resembles an Egyptian fantasy The Rex is still very popular and shows contemporary films It is owned by Effie Davies an actress famed for her many comedies Effie is married to my […]

Last night when I took Trix For her evening walk I noticed that the late clouds Were a thick violet red fringed This was a little surprising As winter was not far away My little dog did not seem to care As we watched the lights of humble ships Deep passing in the in the […]

I was in love with an artist An Abstract Expressionist Who predictably owned a smart loft In New York City We met when he painted my walls sky blue Or at least I thought he had As all colours are black white and grey to me I had lost my sense of colour When Flight […]

Many people find it difficult To breathe on small planets (I include myself) Last Tuesday I was arrested (For drink driving) I offered the cop my sister (Which was accepted) But I need to be more careful As breathing difficulties Cannot be used in the futures

Thousands of miles from my home A few pencils and a pen This is a dream That many will not enjoy I am a fortunate man

I loved the intensified colour of his letters Which I leave on my Paris desk as a source of light As light as feathers in the drabness of my bedroom I often read them to my female guests Look at my sketches Are they not fine But alas I am no artist