Stuart Miller-Osborne

Whilst waiting for a late night train I found the white sands of a carousel Hidden in a connecting passage This puzzled me as being underground Such things had ceased to exist I have never believed in ghosts But slowly the distressed screams Become so real that I closed my eyes And commenced my endless…

The comedy of my celebrity begins I am a celebrity in the eyes of others But I do not celebrate myself   I would like to castrate fools But instead I share drinks with them I am the lowest kind of traitor   Sometimes I wear summer dresses I want to feel what it is…

I was singing in Portuguese as we walked along the long coastal path The day was fading even though we were only in the fifteenth hour I was wearing a sky blue and maroon woollen scarf And looked something like a football fan once removed My family were walking with me into a stiff south-easterly…

Hello Children Here is a short story about Dick’s cat who whilst appearing often in pantomimes seems to be missing from most histories on the subject We all know that Dick was elected as the mayor of London on three occasions But what of Pete his cat who visited Morocco with Dick and solved the…

I always read your books on the beach Sometimes under the white sun And on duller days Sitting on rocks With the balmy breezes caressing my bare arms

Solitude is sometimes a great healer If the sea is smooth Then its reflections are kind And full of love   Solitude is sometimes a great healer If the sea is smooth And its reflections kind Then it is full of love

I have always believed in the music of mathematics I have always believed that coincidences are never accidental But why is the symmetry of numbers sometimes so painful

Beauty and sadness are the only guests That will sit at my Christmas table this year   The limbs of naked trees are silhouetted Against the winter wild skies   Anonymous ships can be seen On the powder pink horizons   These are my only friends        

As I travelled through Wiltshire On a Christmas train I found that I had no real past And my memories were no longer painful   My past was in a box and I was the only key holder   One cannot change the past It is open to interpretation That is all The future will…

I have a friend in Bromley Who claims to have met my Golden sister whilst beach combing I do not believe or disbelieve him As when I was exploring the inter tidal zones I also met his sister But I was not beach combing