Stuart Miller-Osborne

I found an angel on my pillow last week She told me that Jesus was in the next room And so he was He was not dressed in white robes as I expected him to be But in dirty overalls and a red bandana You look more like a steelworker than the Son of God…

From the window of my hotel I can see the streets Under a deep sea of light It seems as if the city has flooded   Buses cars and pedestrians Can be seen and almost touched Busy under the bright surface Of the false sea beneath me   The effect has of course Been created…

After we had made love Esther and I walked to the green park We rested in the shadows of a massive oak tree Which was welcome as the day was hot and without air   We must have rested for about half and hour When suddenly there was an enormous crash And the brittle sound…

Leonard Cohen Once wrote A poem That is special to me It is about light And the sources Of light I will not reproduce it As it will be more Rewarding To search for this poem In a darkened room  

I have just returned from Hanoi The winter daises were in full bloom In the botanical gardens That border the Red River   When I visited these gardens I wore my white cotton dress And gathered a large bouquet As a gift for my grandmother     Letter from my pen friend in Vietnam   

Lena was waiting for a train at a small Swiss railway station She was reading a novel by Ayn Rand The question not who is going to let me  But its who is going to stop me  This collection of seemingly random words Were spinning in her head In the distance she heard the siren…

I am sitting on a train travelling through Europe The pandemic had never happened But there was still hate So much hate I cast my mind back to the late summers day when I passed a man who was dressed as a woman He/She/It was being abused by a group of yobs He/She/It had brought…

you often borrow my tee shirts and change in front of me this i suppose is my reward for being so tolerant of your blue magpie behaviours

I received a large Cuban cigar in the post yesterday Which was strange as I have never smoked I gave it to a grim homeless man Who told me that he had just returned from Cuba

In Colour Agnes borrowed my purple shirt As hers was in the wash This forced me to wear another shirt Which was awkward As it was hanging on the line