Stuart Miller-Osborne

I felt that I had slept For a year When I awoke I found myself alone The maroon blanket was gone And also the shawl But more importantly The man and the woman Were no longer there I began to weep As I knew that I now occupied A hinterland Without boundaries

When I first saw the tent I could not believe my eyes A green tent in the middle of a desert And then I heard voices A man and a woman Slightly older than me Emerged from the tent The woman was holding The bottle of water That would save my life The man laid…

I am trapped in a desert My jeep broke down And I looked for help It was a foolish mistake As I am slowly fading I think that with luck That I have a day left The white sands That surround me Are just endless I am lost

Joe is waiting for a bus In the pouring rain He is standing in front Of a derelict cinema It used to be a happy place But is no longer loved The roof leaks It has few windows It is slowly dying of neglect Joe is aware of this But does not care

It may surprise you to hear That I have been called A Visionary Poet I have no opinions about this Why should I have any thoughts As this was noted elsewhere

When I was studying to be an architect I shared a Fulham flat with two girls Who were both quite attractive You might say that I was a lucky fellow But that was not the case As I found them quite irritating at times These are some of the charges 1/ Whenever I was either…

You look amused Joe I am What has amused you Kew Gardens It is one of my favourite places And mine So what is funny Kew has turned queer In what way It is celebrating queerness and plants You can pop along and listen as those who bugger Tell you that plants are queer Really…

I once lived in a country of beautiful people I was very happy there for many years But I had to leave this peaceful country And whilst I was away it was attacked By a country of ugly people and many died The country of the beautiful people soon declared war And were condemned by…

I visited an antiquarian bookshop today And spent over an hour browsing I settled on a book of poetry and prose The English in Love What an odd title As we often love very deeply But are we really in love These are not my words I found them written in pencil In a section…

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