Stuart Miller-Osborne

Incestuous Quebec was sitting at her desk editing a paper on the economics of her country which she had provisionally titled   Public Votes and Private Purses   Her brother was sitting in their garden He was also writing   My bare breasted sister and her friends Had invited me to a Gauguin party An…

I was in an art gallery When I saw a woman Wearing a white dressing gown Which had fallen open Revealing her black underwear Without speaking to her I was instantly aware of her birth city  

I was drifting through space the other day When thought of my first day at school And of my sisters feeding peacocks In a matter of hours I would return to earth And would soon be carrying wheat to my mill My brother would be collecting the fallen apples And my father would be playing…

June 17th 2016   Poet and Writer Killed in a Traffic Accident near Herstmonceux The little known poet and writer Stuart Miller Osborne was killed in a road traffic accident near the village of Herstmonceux on Sunday at about four in the afternoon. The author of Sea and other unmemorable poems was travelling to the…

During the nineteenth century an unknown chemist named Reginald Phillips spent many years investigating a phenomenon which became known as The English Tropic He meticulously kept his mysterious findings in a number of notebooks until his accidental death in boating accident in 1864 His last words as remembered by his companion Polly Preserve were Oh…

Simpson created dream patterns between the stars He painted a summer moon orange on Cora’s back And sang in harmony with the solitary dawn birds blind Deep in his magic garden   As she lay on her crisp white sheets Simpson painted wailing peacocks On Cora’s breasts Until a droplet of her sweat Inhibited their…

On the train to the airport Mr Sadhus the ticket conductor gave me three books about the art and the preparation of memorable curries He had written these books himself The train driver gave my wife six packets of various curry powders Wrapped in cellophane   When standing on the top of the Empire State…

I saw a shy white owl hiding in a green bush Previously I had been speaking to a blackbird about the phases of the moon and their relation to the many colours witnessed During a typical English summer  

You are turning green-yellow-green Even the fuel tanks are impressed Today is the ninth of June My father died exactly twenty years ago At half past six in the morning  

We were visiting the Corinth Canal When the accident happened A small bird no bigger than a wren Flew blindly into the rock face And died instantly Cora wept And so did some other tourists Especially those from Italy And the USA After some difficulty I located The body of the unfortunate bird And buried…