Stuart Miller-Osborne

We made love on the floor of the sad cafe But did not draw the imperial blinds Our pale bodies were bathed in the light Of the deep orange street illuminations It was then that we introduced ourselves As Chris Christine and Joe

Seven times Seven times Seven times Seven My thoughts are endless Infinity times Seven = 0 = 7 There is no calculation I can think of That solves this mysterious question   Perhaps I am staring at God Without even being aware of his presence   We might be standing opposite Each other in the…

It is said that a young girl of seven years Sought refuge in the Church of the Meadows As the Black Death had wiped out her village But the poor child sadly died And now haunts the area I have seen her often in the hanging mists That caress the meadows near the ancient church…

I wait for you each morning To see what you are wearing Sometimes it is grey knitwear But occasionally on other days You are completely naked It is then that I walk Towards the glowing sea So that I may greet you  

I must have a shave Before I choose my dress As there is nothing worse Than a girl in a mess     I found this short poem scribbled on a free newspaper

The beach was extremely wide today as the tide was very low And apart from a fisherman and a couple of dogwalkers it was deserted This suited me as I like to be alone with my thoughts In the distance a white yacht was heading towards the invisible horizon   I was young when I…

Mrs Canning has a studio on Cheyne Walk She paints there every day I often watch her work from my bedroom window She mainly paints landscapes red and green Which I am told are very popular My father has a Bridget Riley on his library wall I like this work very much but I prefer…

If anything the rain is getting heavier I am witnessing a thousand theatres As the warmth of a thousand windows Illuminate the dark streets left and right The November shadows seem even more menacing now And I hold my keys tight in my generous pockets But I feel assured that I will be quite safe…

Your violet sheets are drying in the sun They can be seen clearly from the cliffs The sea winds are rather beautiful today  

I purchased you faded From a coastal market Your beautiful decorations Were almost hidden by time Colours that were once quite vivid Felt heavy dull battered and blind But I have plans to bring you back to life So that you might again reflect The smooth sharp silk sea light Of these lonely northern shores…