Stuart Miller-Osborne

I have a friend in Bromley Who claims to have met my Golden sister whilst beach combing I do not believe or disbelieve him As when I was exploring the inter tidal zones I also met his sister But I was not beach combing

It was an unusual sight A grown man weeping On the shoulder of a girl At a mainline station In the full view of the curious   The girl was wearing A coloured sweet wool hat   I knew that I would have to leave Before this slow drama reached a conclusion But I had […]

I love travelling People pass They enter your life briefly And then they go You do not see them age

A curtain had been drawn across the sky Causing a deep dull December day I attended a football match The last before Christmas Which was played under blankets Of low grey stratocumulus cloud As this was a coastal town a fine sea mist Had begun to swirl around the bright floodlights Which gave the game […]

On one extraordinary day last summer The normally calm beach at Saint Clemente Was hit by a series of large waves Which had been caused by an earthquake at sea This attracted a great deal of attention And Jane and I spent a great deal of time Diving in and out of the waves and […]

When I was very young We used to live at a gas station Not far from the state line To the rear of our small house There were the Black Mountains Which was something of a misnomer As the peaks were snow covered For three of the four seasons each year My father owned a […]

Barney Rubble is in trouble As I work at the Hubble In a double bubble Opposite the blue puddle That we often call home   Barney Rubble is in trouble As I work at the Hubble Opposite the blue puddle That we often call home   Barney Rubble is in trouble As I work in […]

There are people in this world Who see things so clearly That it brings them to the edge of madness Peter was one of these rare people I had the privilege to be called one of his friends Which brought me a great deal of pleasure But I was still a train wanting to move […]

The old world is dying The new world struggles to be born Now is the time of monsters This will last for one thousand years     Antonio Gramsci

Either you run the day Or the day runs you   I often think of this saying When I am relaxing Beneath the palm trees Watching this beautiful island Sink slowly into the sea     Anna without Anna