Stuart Miller-Osborne

I would like them to make their short trips Without authority I would like them to extinguish their lights After dark I would like them to ban cars and foot passengers On Tuesdays And travel unhindered to the far shores of my empire  

Reflections in a Brass Kettle We are facing a brass kettle A large fire burns to our left I am considering its ashes My partner is stroking the doomed logs The brass kettle has averted its gaze In sympathy   Mr Sun Mr Sun share my jail ale For my journey is now complete  

I had been in the jungle for five days after escaping from the prison camp and was living on rainwater and fruits that I recognised My grey prison uniform was in tatters and I had been bitten a number of times and the poisons along with my malnutrition were weakening me Late in the afternoon […]

Some consider you ugly Your beauty betrayed by the rawness of this barren month But your slender figure is still garlanded By my necklace of precious stones  

Marcia Marseille et moi Marcia and I were sitting on the sofa at the end of the world watching Olympique Marseille play Guingamp The score was 2-1 Marseille had opened the scoring after eight minutes but Guingamp had equalised from the spot after thirty-four But Marseille had taken the lead again four minutes later from […]

Yesterday you were covered in frost Today you are green again You are such a chameleon Playing with my emotions  

On her birthday November Patient was taken to Marlborough and asked to choose a book from the many shelves in front of her After an hour she decided that an 1862 edition of Voltaire’s work would make a suitable gift It has previously been owned by a Richard Matthey Who had annotated the book with […]

Just stay in my parlour With milk and bread And decorate your eider With delicate thread Then Danse Danse Danse Danse Danse Danse Hear the rhythm and feel the beat Dance with me with your painted feet   Just stay in my cottage Under the shady trees And watch the sad world On its knees […]

Do not come to the town Miss Henderson Sow For the streets are not safe for gentlefolk now We are all to blame in deed and thought Although the current malaise is nobody’s fault   This poem was found by the author when visiting Gravesend in Kent on the 1st of January 1976 It is […]

Petal and Fif were sitting by the roaring fire Reading ghost stories A traditional occupation for New Year’s Eve Ellen and Margaret fearfully Sought comfort in each other’s eye Short be my speech Nor time affords Nor my plain temper Glowing words The words were glowing and were floating around the large room Disappearing and […]