Stuart Miller-Osborne

You have assumed the disguise of a tiger When the snows arrive Will you shed your stripes?

A number of railway bridges between Reading and Newbury are currently being either modernised or replaced as the process of electrification gathers pace The passenger footbridge at Newbury Railway Station which dates from 1910 will shortly be replaced by the newer bridge at the western end of the station I had made these notes whilst […]

The magnificent Frigate Birds were following my yacht I knew that we were not far from land as the charcoal gulls and flying fish were becoming frequent visitors My Portuguese stowaway seemed to spend all of her time on deck sketching these beautiful creatures I had found her under a blanket in the forepeak after […]

Exiled from your homeland You have farmed This derelict land For twelve winters It is unlikely that you will return To the country of your birth And you know That you will fade Without protest Into these unforgiving hills     Two Polish soldiers who were exiled after serving in the Second World War found […]

You wrote your essay about Enobarbus quite naked in your bedroom You locked the door to extinguish interruptions and lifted your pen I will do justice to your name You said As I was also Anthony’s loyal friend But you are aware of Anthony’s foolish infatuation He will lose the war So you do not […]

Over one hundred years have passed since your poem was written I am in Whitstable today with my family The sun is high in the sky and everything is calm Small children are playing with vacant oyster shells Whilst their parents paddle quietly in the sea Above me umber moths hide in the coastal trees […]

Over one hundred years have passed since your poem was written I am in Whitstable today with my family The sun is high in the sky and everything is calm Small children are playing with vacant oyster shells Whilst their parents paddle quietly in the sea Above me umber moths hide in the coastal trees […]

You are the first poem in a book of Soldier Poets Your poem was written by a Major in the British Expeditionary Force in France during the First World War He is only known by his initials no more H.D’A. B. Marthe of the lowered eyes This is how the poem opens I wonder who […]

Large blood red roses Decorate The walls Of my room Some say That they were stained By the blood of Christ But I know that the weeping poppies Scarred these walls

When visiting beaches I often search For emotive pebbles They bring me much comfort No matter their mood As I ignore their emotions