Stuart Miller-Osborne

My garden which was beautiful in the summer Is being battered by the cruel autumn winds All that was bright is now dull And there is worse to come In time the snows will arrive And suffocate the vastness of my home Felicity has begun her hibernation early As she will wake up first surrounded […]

Jazz from the speakeasy era Hums soulfully from my radio And an Under Wolfe howls From within a distant storm

On the wall of my white wash I have painting of a Russian princess Only her face is clearly visible Christina has the most amazing eyes Which are as blue as hidden ice

The filthy sky is now brown grey All the liquid gutters Are featureless and flat I am no longer illuminated

I am following the generous sun In the pouring rain Many consider this as a fancy Foolish in the extreme

Marigold was happy She lived in a lovely town In a lovely house With lovely views of the sea She was academically comfortable And very feminine and attractive Marigold was God Happy She then met Adam Who she instantly loved He was very kind And treated her well They went to the nicest of places […]

If you leave the city of the blind Then immediately cover your eyes As you have visited all three churches

I had found it increasingly difficult to sleep It was obvious that I was fully awake Somewhere deep within a strangers dream

Sister Geraldine drifted into a golden field She was wearing a long cerise shirt We had travelled for many hours

I was walking along an exposed lane Which was slowly melting with age The fields of sunflowers were endless