Stuart Miller-Osborne

The advertising campaign attracted them initially It was subtle and loud at the same time A thin strip of pink red plastic placed on a busy table That was the beauty of the advertisement The Buddhas took in the usual sights And travelled on an open top bus between the squally showers We dined in…

A fragment of the sea rainbow Was masking the Goodwin Sands   I am on Deal Beach With my mature camera   Recording the violence Of the autumn waves   I am happy here        

I only saw you briefly Buffeted by the harsh winds You were still full of colour Deep red orange red and black But I knew this to be a disguise As you had no reason to exist Under these grey immoral skies  

Primed Cannon I do wish that you would not play These silly games I am wet and ready And in the mood for love   Morning Wood I always walk with you in our morning wood But I was unable to do so today As we had the decorators in   Pitching a Tent He…

Things had remained unchanged for hundreds of years But in the space of a few short months You changed everything   What do you keep in that hot stone bucket Rooks eggs Is that to encourage them to grow Into strong and respectable birds   Submarines would patrol our coast With their cannons primed They…

I had spent the afternoon watching the 1972 Russian film Solaris When it was over I walked into Deal just as the syn was setting It was as if reality was copying art or the reverse I saw Viola in the flat blue skys but she djd not see me

It was a hot day and Anna and Anna were sitting on the town beach They were both reading but found it hard to see the pages of their books As the sun was white bright and deep away from the night Anna tell me your favourite joke I do really have one as mostly…

I woke up at an insane hour as I was unable to sleep To pass the time I looked at photographs Of German railway stations in a glossy book All went well until I studied Munich Aubing station Its monochrome photograph was shot at night Which added to the atmosphere as a fog was present But what…

I am not at all beautiful Indeed I am quite ugly But I have many loyal friends Who love me greatly They obviously do not love me For the beauty that I do not possess This makes me very happy

The Norwegian sailor was lost at sea Or so the legend tells us all Yet he is often spotted ashore Drinking in the inns of seamen I know this tale to be quite false As I buried him on the dead beach In the middle of a bitter storm     A nineteenth century Norwegian…