Stuart Miller-Osborne

How are you feeling Stan  Rough still  You have caught a chill  Possibly  It may have been when you got soaked the other day at the game  I know but football is my mistress  And I am your wife  I do wish that you shared my passion Jane  For twenty two grown men running around a field […]

I Am Love & Siberia   Are my best friends  We often holiday together  And discuss whether closed  Railway stations are identical  To the railway stations  That are still in use  I often see reflections in winter puddles  But do these reflections  Exist on hot summer days  This is a Siberian question  We discuss these questions […]

I have just photographed our breakfast table  Just to record its ordinary history  Milk Coffee Toast and Flakes  Await us both at the end of our dreams

I wonder if I am actually recording The Centre of the Known Universe  You are photographing trains Stan  Yoo often photograph trains  You have spelt you incorrectly Jane This is what I hate about yoo  You have have spelt itt incorrectly Jane Spelling is not a strong point of yours  I know how to spell cunt […]

I met a man who told me that his name was George Lewis  In the Cafe Lea charity shop this afternoon  I was looking for a set of forks with ivory handles  This man smelt vaguely of the farm which surprised me  As one does not find many farms in area of Kings X  He […]

n one of my dreams recently  I derailed an express train  By throwing an errant pen  Under its wheels  Six people were injured  Because I had smudged  My much loved drawing  I was sitting in a large church  Built on the soil of the county  A lecture was in progress  And soon a swastika was […]

I am sitting here uncomfortably In front of a BBC microphone  Reading my poetry to the world  I am wearing a green woolen sweater  Which was a recent Christmas present  Please pray for me my friends  

On the whole cats are afraid of me  Which I find puzzling as I am gentle  And exceedingly kind to ladybirds 

Oh Dreams Oh Dreams  I was in a German camp  Where atrocities had taken place  But I was a guard on the gate  An innocent guard  A wooden gate  Painted red and white  Occasionally soldiers came down for a smoke  Or to wash their hands  In the wooden bucket on the path to the latrines  The […]

During the long warm months These ancient steps encourage leisure But not today as they are quite submerged By the winter rivers mindless turbulence