Wednesday, 5 April 2017



Are you a Mozart lover?

see my latest story here at Every Day fiction.

Go to eighteenth century Vienna.



https://everydayfiction.com/there-all-the-time-by-stuart-larner/



Wednesday, 22 March 2017

Wednesday, 28 December 2016

Latest Poem

My Bench


Not on the tarmac esplanade
Where the proudest benches tout.

Nor facing the rising or setting suns  –
It needs no glory from light’s posturing.

Not varnished annually  –
Its grain is weathered truth.

Overgrown, uncatalogued,
It hosts no remembrance spray,
Save the blossom fall
In sadness and in triumph.

Sit away from faster paths.
Under this unpruned bower
The world in shaded silence
Unfolds itself around you.





Stuart Larner

republished from Every Day Poets
New Year Book sale 

 January sales   $0.99 

starts Dec31st.  

Must end  Jan 7th.   

Hurry












Saturday, 5 November 2016


Poem:

6th November

This morning my son and I
searched the lane for fallen rockets.
We found only one:
 a charred remnant amongst sodden leaves
run over by a car.
'Obviously a dud,' I said, 'burnt out
before it had even reached those trees.'
'No Dad,' he said.
'This fell back to earth
after it had scorched the stars.'

Stuart Larner




(earlier version first published disguised in prose on the letters page Scarborough Evening News , 10/11/08).

Thursday, 13 October 2016

my new book, written under the nom-de-plume Rosy Stewart. co-authored with Rosie Larner.







Hope: Stories from a Women's Refuge



The story of three women who track down perpetrators of domestic violence. A series of their cases.

Monday, 3 October 2016

Comfort Regained

I found my old Teddy in a cupboard,
A cross stitched over where each eye once lay.
His mouth is sewn into a smile so broad
As though he’d still have soothing things to say.

His ear hangs off as if he’s strained so long
And worn it out listening all those years.
Time’s washed us both: I’ve grown, he’s shrunk, among
The tumble-turnings of my adult cares.

Feel his fur. Comforting is his soft art.
Still the same cuddly stuffing all way through.
Against my cheek I think I hear his heart.
You hold him. Listen. You might hear him too.


Stuart Larner


first published by Every Day Poets