Stuart Miller-Osborne

Your raven eyes are matched by your raven hair Your simple necklace spans your white collar What secrets are hidden behind those mysterious lips?   After the painting by Modigliani  

Your book was passed to me today By your executor Your dedication is long dry The ink pale with age But my memories of you are fresh And really that is all that matters  

Today we woke up to a misty moon Dripping deep over the Salisbury Plain For a while as you lay in my arms I thought about the tides of Portland Where many years ago We had previously slept After meeting  

The train was six minutes late when it arrived at Dover station I could see Geraldine waiting for me near the buffet She had aged since I had last seen her but not unattractively so You are late Seventeen years late When were you released? About a month ago Are they still following you? Yes […]

They shot a movie here once Really It was about a couple of drop outs Bobbie Mango was shuffling her feet in the sparse sand This is where life started and where life will end I did not answer Bobbie Mango removed her glasses Why is it called Zabriskie Point? It was named after a […]

In the summer of 1895 Emma Roberts received a copy of Matthew Arnold’s Essays in Criticism for her birthday She decorated her book by adding a Fleur-de-lis as well as a number of illuminated characters Her brother helped her to construct two ribbon clasps In later life Emma and her brother Charles became missionaries and […]

The world received the sad news this week That Leonard Cohen had passed away But for some reason death does not seem so final When you are beside the sea I did little apart from purchasing two copies of The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam One of which I took to a football match  

We were sitting on a winter’s beach Listening to the sparse language of mermaids On the horizon fires flickered And were reflected in the low cloud Is Europe ablaze again?  You asked I removed my blindfold Those are isolated fires you know   Such is the brittleness of history     

I ran a mile and a half today It was the first time in my life that I had felt alive No that’s not true I felt alive a long time before this Just for a second and then it was gone Until now   Caron Miller Osborne 2009  

Your dull green shroud Provokes little excitement The mourners are long gone And it is left to me To guard your memories