Stuart Miller-Osborne

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…

Gulls are known to travel many miles inland To play chess and other board games They were seen at the recent society wedding Of Lucy Pargetter to Robbie Rob Ellis Held in a small church near Stonehouse in Gloucestershire Which had been much changed by its 1854 restoration Financed in full by Lucy’s Great Great…

I was wearing a turquoise bracelet As I passed through the poetry field Only the Canadian Geese noticed my decoration  

Exquisite light Do not surrender These soft churches For they have a past Not yet recorded By your historians  

The hummingbird hovered high But its movement occasioned no life For the seasons of adoration Now lay blind in the low fields    

Purchased a white organ for the All Hallows Church In homage to the Emperor Hadrian Quite why then did this was quite often questioned And it was this subject that Caron and I discussed quietly As we strolled around an empty church Not far from the River Thames Maybe it was their love of Twickenham…

As I walked along the main street in Deal Listening to the greatest hits of Myfanwy Robb I noticed that a number of bras Had been attached to shop doors When I enquired why these garments Had been so liberally distributed I was told that the mermaids were to blame Which was the answer I…

The moon hides within the swathe clouds The lights of Ramsgate are near Darkness has covered my Deal Town A special day is here  

In a damp box in a cold doorway Cynthia’s book lay exposed to the December rain Many passed bit no-one cared Until a sailor visiting Deal Took pity And placed the book into the woollen pocket Of his heavy coat He now lies in his bunk Many seas distant Reading Natures Stories   A gift…