Stuart Miller-Osborne

As we travel In the fog I think of you Crossing the Bosphorus With me    

The passions of Polly started at the Dehesa de Campoamor for she was a modernist at heart and loved swimming pools    

Pilot K was born in Kyoto in the spring of 1923 From an early age he admired Tiziano Vecellio Otherwise known as Titian He often visited galleries to study the Italian and other great artists Pilot K wanted to be an artist A successful artist Who would travel beyond Japan To Italy and then to […]

Lillith and Danby sat on the grass of the shallow cliff counting poppies In parts the cliff had broken away leaving gaps amongst the sloping vegetation Both women were aware of these gaps but nonetheless sat dangerously close to the hidden voids Lillith was wearing a red cotton dress of the modernist style Danby was […]

Opposite South St David’s Street The Red & Grey army chairs  (Remained Vacant) I had sold the property of their answers   Post  Val  Vona  Sep Hidden In a/the doorway Of that city A/The prison bus waited I had spared its momentum But had sold its (Resting Collection)    

I found a crimson fish on the white sands near Morar it was nearly dead so I offered it to the clouds    

Dixon O’Donahue was the youngest of the two travellers   As he journeyed north he played cards with his friend who remained nameless   They played for provincial stakes as they were both careless with their decks   When in Morecambe Dixon won The Morar Sands but lost them later in Preston   His favourite […]

Chesney Wold is shut up, carpets are rolled into great scrolls in comfortless rooms Yet the blinds are raised and sunlight streams into the rooms readings will take place In all parts of the window were quantities of dirty bottles I live in a world without glass, the winds ravage my endless days I drink […]

The white powder flowers faded into the dating dusk as the returning fishermen raised their black linen flags they watched as we danced in front of their ragged homes      

She floats by in a coan dress hunting the scatter flowers of her pre history   Her light songs stir only the infant silt that obscures the calm passage of her sudden grace   1980