Stuart Miller-Osborne

When swimming the captain will hear The Song of Angharad in the sounds of the waves. She will swim beneath him unseen such are the mysteries of song

When apart My heart shall be thy garden As I travel away from you I will cherish your Thoughts in separation I will write my long letters To a poet That I will never meet This is the Song Of the Spring to the Summer  

I collect the spoons of the great exhibitions so that I may witness the concave reflections of my ancestors

Did you not fall at Flodden my secular priest ? or do you still live on these itinerant pages ? within the sound of the Avon clear .     c 1973

In lazy procession the ducks head in the general direction of Bristol they are taking their young to see the suspension bridge and to have tea with Miss Henley and her wonderful petticoats The moorhen is picking grubs from the tow rope of a barge still damp from the journey I will stay in this […]

Like a goat on a mountain face You cling to life But shortly all will share your sanity   In the spring of 2011 a pedestrian footbridge was added to the eighteenth century canal bridge in Hungerford West Berkshire

Let my amber tears drop into the small fires of the home hearth for its smoke will serenade the last man as he shelters from the promised ash

Dead Pheasants On my journey today I passed some balloons tied to a tree They invited me to a party So I taught them to fly Montreal Adams designed airports to resemble spaceships as she thought planes obsolete A Journey of Advantages on the last day the condemned man and his executioner played dice together […]

Will the tribes share your brave uniform as they listen to the sounds of battle or will the dead celebrate the purity of disease ?     Based on an incident when the artist Jessica Dismorr stripped naked in Oxford Street in London.

I was born on the 24th April 1950. This was the day of my arrival in The Eternal City. I was met at the railway station by Valerie, Helen and Ann who each gave me a guide book. In return I autographed their eyes so that they would never forget me. I painted the Tiburtina […]