Stuart Miller-Osborne

On the 9th of August 2017 Beryl Quail an eighty-nine year old widow was hit by a bus in the Fishponds area of Bristol She was pronounced dead at the scene of the accident Witnesses said that Mrs Quail was looking at the pink rainbow that occurred over the city on Monday evening when the […]

On the 8th of August 1962 I threw Viola Gresham’s severed arm into the sea near Blue Anchor Railway Station I had hoped that she would recover from the time accident But I have had no contact with her since that day Her brother is still chasing me through time but he is now tired […]

I am in a corrugated iron shed at the Blue Anchor Railway Station in Somerset Viola Gresham is hiding with me She has a serious time disease Which can only the sea can cure I can see the sea from the shed But we cannot swim in the sea During daylight hours As Viola has […]

I am sitting on Blue Anchor Railway Station in Somerset It is two for twins day I am sitting with my twin sister She is not wearing underwear The Blue Lobster is aware of this fact And looks up her skirt as she crosses her legs   Blue Lobster Plain Maid Planning Murder With her […]

You wrote your essay about Enobarbus quite naked in your bedroom You locked the door to extinguish interruptions and lifted your pen I will do justice to your name You said As I was also Anthony’s loyal friend   But you are aware of Anthony’s foolish infatuation He will lose the war So you do […]

Over one hundred years have passed since your poem was written I am in Whitstable today with my family The sun is high in the sky and everything is calm Small children are playing with vacant oyster shells Whilst their parents paddle quietly in the sea Above me umber moths hide in the coastal trees […]

Over one hundred years have passed since your poem was written I am in Whitstable today with my family The sun is high in the sky and everything is calm Small children are playing with vacant oyster shells Whilst their parents paddle quietly in the sea Above me umber moths hide in the coastal trees […]

You are the first poem in a book of Soldier Poets Your poem was written by a Major in the British Expeditionary Force in France during the First World War He is only known by his initials no more H.D’A. B. Marthe of the lowered eyes This is how the poem opens I wonder who […]

Large blood red roses Decorate The walls Of my room Some say That they were stained By the blood of Christ But I know that the weeping poppies Scarred these walls  

When visiting beaches I often search For emotive pebbles They bring me much comfort No matter their mood As I ignore their emotions