Stuart Miller-Osborne

My father was an ordinary lock keeper On an obscure Midlands canal It was quite busy at times And at other times it was rather quiet My sister used to swim between the locks That was until she contracted a disease Which in time slowly crippled her I also swam in the canal as I…

I like your poster Muriel Is it a self portrait In your dreams If I am not mistaken It is L’Origine du monde by Courbet I can tell that you went to college If I was an artist Would you adopt that pose for me I have already answered your question Roy if I thought…

The Flower Moon Will rise above My beloved hills During the month of May In anticipation of this I have slowly cleared The wisteria passages Along the southern path

Alice and I lived in a decaying squat It was the scruffiest cottage In the village of After Eden

It is about time for the flower moon Last year we had two moons and three suns I have no idea about this year Although I expect the same I caught my flat mate Wearing my clothes again Which is annoying As the May air in VVV is mild I normally do not dress until…

You were late home last night Was I You know you were Pretty Yes I made out with Roberta last night You mean the Roberta Yes The Roberta whose father is a judge I did not think that you were her type Neither did I But obviously I was Olivia did it just happen We…

I published my first book During my thirty-ninth year It was an immediate success And I resigned from teaching Amira and I then decided To travel the world We are still travelling I have not written Another book

A model who I have painted many times Liked my latest work so much that she faded Into the painting on the first day of its exhibition

The redundant locks were soon filled with rubbish I brought up eight children here all of which survived Edward was the brightest one and became a magistrate The Julie twins entered service and married well Alfred although lame was successful in business I am a poet and an artist of some local repute The actress…

Happy are the spirits that cloud this room As we talk about the desert trains passing One per hour and three at other times Most of my slow memories are taken From old photographs and other dreams