Stuart Miller-Osborne

You are wearing my violet shirt again But that does not bother me As you are far more beautiful Than I could ever wish to be Violet Love Poem You are wearing my violet shirt again But that means little or nothing to me As you are far more more beautiful Than I could ever […]

I have a kindle which was a birthday gift But it no longer works I have been told that the battery is dead Although I have charged it many times Nothing happens My partner has left me in our flat With a grey sleeping bag and a toy robot Which lights up and exterminates invisible […]

I had occasion to walk on Margate Sands recently And found the remains of some broken bottles I collected these pieces of glass and headed towards a waste bin What I did not realise was that some of the glass was brightly coloured Which made it very suitable for mosaics and other creations It was […]

I was visiting my close friends in England for the sixth time and had found myself helping them set up an outdoor cinema in a large field next to an ancient canal Our grandparents had fought in the Spanish Civil War together and our families had exchanged visits since the death of Franco in 1975 […]

everything is so beautiful in the countryside today but I feel sad devour me now

Every morning at seven precisely I fetch my milk from the landing beneath my apartment I walk quite naked down the thin stone steps towards the chequered tiles My neighbour watches me But I do not care as my bare arse brings him pleasure

The Moon Sisters can be seen at night Over the simmering West Berkshire fields One is clothed and the other is naked And although the were born centuries apart They are considered twins  As they are totally identical But I can tell them apart As I was born in the shadows of the Rustock Hills

I was sitting unnoticed in the corner of the birth room watching my mother giving birth It was on a Sunday afternoon in late August At 5:20 to be exact I came out crying as I had already witnessed all the sins of the world That is the fate of poets   Many years later […]

I was sitting at a potters wheel With a visitor from another planet We were throwing pots And then decorating them with beautiful flowers Freshly picked from my rural garden I looked at my alien friend And wondered which one of us actually belonged

I am dining with visitors from another planet They are excessively fragile And will shatter at the slightest touch Tomorrow I will be showing them All the castles that we have and will invite them To choose one as their official residence