Thomas Miller (poet)

Thomas Miller (poet)

Early life

Miller was born in Gainsborough, Lincolnshire, the son of George Miller, an unsuccessful wharfinger and ship-owner who deserted his wife and two sons in 1810. Thomas grew up in Sailors Alley, and one of his childhood friends was the future poet and journalist Thomas Cooper. He attended the White Hart Charity School. Although he left school at nine, he became a voracious reader. His love of the countryside was reinforced by summers spent on his grandfather's farm.

Miller found work as a ploughboy, then as a shoemakers apprentice, but was released from his indentures when he threw "an iron instrument" at his vicious and tyrannical master. He was then apprenticed as a basket-maker to his stepfather, and when he had done his time, moved to Nottingham in 1831 to set up his own basket-making business. There he published his own first writings Songs of the Sea Nymphs (1832), which he dedicated to Lady Blessington.

London poverty

After moving to London he was befriended by Lady Blessington and by Samuel Rogers, and for a time engaged in business as a bookseller, but was unsuccessful and then devoted himself exclusively to literature, producing over 45 volumes, including novels, in which he successfully delineated rural characters and scenes. Among them were Royston Gower (1838), Gideon Giles the Roper, Rural Sketches and Pictures of Country Life, illustrated by Samuel Williams. He contributed a series to the run of penny dreadfuls entitled Mysteries of London, which depicted urban crime.

Although Miller attracted some patronage and some sums from the Royal Literary Fund, but he was often in financial need, and appealed directly to Charles Dickens for assistance in 1851. Dickens declined and wrote to his friend Bulwer Lytton of Miller; I fear he has mistaken his vocation.

Miller had a wife and four children: Henry, George, Emma and Ellen. He died of a stroke at his home at 24 New Street, Kensington, on 24 October 1874 and was buried in West Norwood Cemetery. He was survived by a son and two spinster daughters.

PoemsMosquitoes

Though I live

on the eighteenth floor

mosquitoes still find me

Though we sleep

side by side

the mosquito loves only me

Run very hot water

on your mosquito bites

and dont scratch them

Welcome mosquitoes!

We serve only one cocktail here-

thick nourishing blood

The faintest hum-

a mosquito hovering

in the dark around my ear

The mosquito welt

on my ear

glows red hot

In the morning- thuggish

mosquitoes cling to the bathroom tile

full of blood, out of breath

The Palace of Mirages

There is a room in Paris

that can be transformed

by the use of mirrors and machinery

into three different locations.

Lights dim on an Indian Temple

that turns into a Tropical Jungle.

When the room slowly darkens again,

the Jungle transforms into a Moorish Palace.