Stuart Miller-Osborne

I often experience an existential crisis Well at least once a day My most recent was in Milan yesterday And involved light food poisoning As I had eaten shellfish at a business meeting One should never eat shellfish at corporate events It was a very posh hotel with some very important customers I need not […]

You are forever trapped Between your bovine friends You exist but are not present Little is known of your history

Petra Pol is to marry Petunia Daisy Grimes Optician Is the Maid of Honour William in the Wheelchair Will whistle Jerusalem As an introduction to the service Frantic Romantic will lead the choir With Sammy Mire and Sammy Sire Silent close hymns will be sung in Latin As the vows are exchanged without wandering words

A devotchka was leaning over the baboochka She was very interessovatted in this lighter I know not why but I was interested in her neezhnies What a plott she had and her sharries were sladky I wanted to spat with her all grazzy So I lit a cancer pretending to care But then bog spoke […]

There is still a lampost in place on Beach Road It is not the original lampost of the old photograph That is long gone which is rather sad The nearby houses have changed little Even though many years have passed Air and light and light air and light

Valentin recently sent me a letter describing a shelf cloud That he had witnessed when cycling back from the village church Valentin suspected that a storm was near but there was no obvious signature So he rang his sister Valentine from the red phone box on the green And asked her to bring his Box […]

I often do handstands on railway stations When the staff are not looking or busy elsewhere It is a hazardous activity as one can easily lose balance And fall onto the tracks which would not do If a train is coming at speed towards your exhibition

Marooned on the small dunes Far from the incoming tide You are so perfect so beautiful I am going to pick you up And display you with pride In my bright city apartment It is the least that I can do for you

A tree shed of its warmth Dominates the green window Throughout the long summer months Its heavy branches obscure everything Apart from the gleaming fields of gold

All people create their own gods Maybe for a comfort or a security Maybe because they are vain They struggle with these gods Quite why is a mystery to me As all they are really seeking is a blessing Which is already within their hearts