Stuart Miller-Osborne

Hot Days Ideally one should be near water on hot days such as these A river a pool or even a stream would be agreeable The dog streets of busy towns Should not be considered suitable For the gentlefolk of placid counties   Hot Days Ideally one should be naked on days such as these […]

The Bride She stands naked hidden by a tree Watching her hunter on the hill path Her faithful hound has donned a disguise To fool the stream side bees   Inspired by the copper engraving by Edward Calvert   The Swallows Come friendly swallows Do not hide from me I have brought ny dear mother […]

Anti Fergus But who killed Anti-Fergus? It could not have been me As I was under armed guard at the time   My police statement after the assassination of Anti Fergus (July 1970)   Anti Fergus But who killed Anti-Fergus? It could not have been me As I was imprisoned at the time   My […]

Today we are apart We are in the same county But in different towns A short while ago A pencil of cloud passed by In an hour it will reach you Please return it to me  

I find that I am still thinking of you As I wander in the shade of citrus trees My thoughts are of your green meadows And majestic towers Please as you lunch beside the wide river Think of me as I farm the dusty fields that separate us   This poem was found by Caron […]

I remember when you were in the sun fields with me Cutting cloth so that you might make a shirt Those were busy days but slow And I only now appreciate them In our separation   This poem was found by Caron in a copy of Paolo and Francesca at Windsor Railway Station on the […]

Late of the workhouse they rest in peace In their unmarked graves A mother and her child Weathered by the country winds Remind me of these lives forgotten   This area of unmarked land is the designated burial place for the paupers from The Workhouse in the Parish of Hungerford 1837-1948 St Saviour’s Cemetery Eddington […]

The summer white snow Has settled on the green lawns That surround my home I search the sun clouds without success  

The summer snow lies silently On my gentle lawns Having descended without protest From his grey fringed clouds  

Take my hand Remove your shoes Feel the shifting sands Of the freedom road