Stuart Miller-Osborne

Alan Mick and Bob Added their names To the wooden shed This annoyed Kaplan But nobody else cared    

Richard and Agnes were leaving Pompeii when Agnes noticed a large bush which was decorated with tiny pink flowers This is the prettiest bush I have seen in Pompeii today I fear it is the only one as it is usually native to Britain Is it poisonous? I do not know but I would not…

Rima was sitting at her desk She was writing a history of The Jews of Hastings In the distance she could see the cross Where Christ had been crucified It was vacant and had been so for many years Beecher was nearby attending a vintage car rally Which was being held in a field Not…

Yrsa and Sigridur were sitting on the beach watching Rebel Without a Cause The evening was cool With a westerly breeze Caressing the beach Yrsa hugged Sigridur for warmth And showed her The amazing green stone That she had just found Sigridur looked at the stone And saw the reflections of the actors trapped within…

I am slowly becoming invisible Each day another part of me vanishes Into the silent void In a short time I will be totally gone A fading memory in those Who once knew me    

In the anonymity of history My father wrote Into a book From Father To Wm M D Quenet Oct 9th 1908 Which started with the following words It was the best of times It was the worst of times It was the age of wisdom It was the age of foolishness I found this book…

Sixteenth Century Postman I will lay ye below the cobblestones Where I have placed all our love letters Future generations will find your bones But they will not find me   Keeble Street Join me at the bar For a jar Which will not mar The day so far   Margaret Topless Write drivel on…

Why do you caress my throat Beryl Surely the rain Has dampened your ardour    

Albertine knelt by the small stream and listened to her lovers poetry Albertine swam in the large river and listened to her lovers music Albertine sailed the oceans of the world but they remained silent for she was alone once more    

The brush clouds are hiding the morning sun but it is oblivious of their hinder The day moon is dusting its pale face with the fine lace mists We will walk barefoot in the dew fields when the hour gathers its colour