Stuart Miller-Osborne

Of late I have been attending The School of Shadows Where the summer days never end I am happy in my disposition Which is often noticed By others less fortunate than me But this is a trick of the light A sleight of hand As I often close my eyes And faint under eucalyptus trees

There are many men Who I wish would fall dead As they disgust me Which is not in line With my Christian beliefs I have yet to speak to God About these selfish thoughts

I must say it is obvious to me that women Are more than inclined to engage In gentle Sapphic encounters It is within the nature of their sex How can you say that It surely exists only within your male gaze Possibly But I stand behind what I think What are your thoughts on men…

Very high up in the Sun Winds All kinds of flowers grow Fruits and Perfumes Litter the hidden clouds And unknown colours Can be found Deep in the Cornfields That lead to God

About a week ago a catamaran was wrecked on the beach It had suffered considerable damage on its port side I later found out that its crew had been rescued by a lifeboat However it has since been reported that a haunting had occurred As whilst fishing at night the landlord of the village inn…

Jane gave me her corsage After the prom in exchange For a loving kiss She then vanished Into my lonely dream

Our sting had been set up for weeks As we knew when the shipment would pass It was decided that works on Highway 12 Would be an obvious answer In and out of Andersonville Hide in the Plain Sight We had an announcement broadcast on Radio Anderson As we knew that the gang would either…

I am a moderately successful artist Which suits me well as I find no need To compromise on what I paint I often paint lighthouses at night And rent a small house in Travemunde So that I might explore this theme My works I am told resemble Those of Emil Nolde which I dispute As…

You glide like a swan on a mirrored lake The remainder of this poem Was lost by the poet Georg Whist travelling in Switzerland In the summer of 1912

Lou was swimming naked In a cool Swiss lake Two boys were watching her From behind a rock They were playing truant Neither will be alive in 1918 As the war will have claimed both lives The poet Georg was sketching Lou As she swam in the crystal lake He had already composed a poem…