Stuart Miller-Osborne

My lovers of temperate thought exchanged stories of the fascinating whilst a tender owl noted the cruel horizons of their passage home     1981

A bottle lies broken in the gutter the rats are drunk in their holy sewers The few that have remained sober have commenced their worship

In the morning it is shy retiring of character It hides behind the clouds as it disrobes in readiness for the night

The evergreens cover the thin trees with their love in the dark months and accept the loneliness of their summer days

You can still see them in the cloudy mirrors the two princes painted by Van Der Liden who died aged forty five with a look of absolute horror in his eyes no reason was ever given for this   I was not tricked by the reflections and knew the works to be hung together in […]

The concussion of a passing shell Blew the dust from an English lane As I brushed it from my clothes You passed me for the final time

When the sun rises in my room it sets in my brother’s room When I close a book I know it will not be opened again If the moon appears during the day it is often ignored I have come to accept his fact My brother Phillip said I am the apocalypse as he shot […]

The white powder flowers faded into the dating dusk as the returning fishermen raised their black linen flags they watched as we danced in front of their ragged homes

Lies not in Westminster Abbey as previously thought but on the Wiltshire/Berkshire borders under an elm tree long gone Nearby Belgium Canaries trace their footsteps on the card crisp paths searching for the land of peacocks but they find only dust The black eyes gazelles offer their assistance but are refused so they return to […]

In the estuary of the forest a man taller than I spoke to me Lay in the humble undergrowth and hear the heartbeat of the world I was of youthful years and had never considered the pulse beneath me You are the younger but in time you will know more never doubt me And with […]