This is Home


 This is Home



The dog barks as feet stomp up the stairs before a

Door slams shut and silence falls over this house, the only

Sounds my radio and tiny rattle of fingers bouncing

Off my keyboard.  I sit here now wondering,

Thinking of what this life could still offer, another

Move away but why right now when I’m happier than

I’ve been in years, work is good and this room, well now

After the best part of two- and a-bit years I’ve grown

Used to, fond of even becoming the place where I feel

Most comfortable, at last a home I feel good in.


I dream of moving to the country or even the suburbs as

This city-centre life grows tiresome, the constant scrutiny

Of beggars requesting spare change when I barely have

Enough to live my own life or the wailing of sirens,

Desperate to let all around know they are fighting the

Good fight.  Right now it seems like town is just one

Big building site with cranes popping up all over the

Place and barriers to works in progress dominating

Street after street.  But somehow, in among the

Ubiquitous hipsters, the crazed crack-heads and other

Down from London media types I feel content, happy

At long long last.


Bradford Middleton


Bradford Middleton lives in Brighton, UK.  He is the author of 4 chapbooks of poems, the last two available from Analog Submission Press, and has work featured in a whole host of places including Newington Blue’s recent Bukowski @100 anthology, a Local Gems Press anthology celebrating Walt Whitman, literary journals such as Chiron Review and Evening Street Review, zines such as Razur Cuts and Paper & Ink and online, most recently in Bond Street Review, Piker Press, Poetry Life & Times, Yellow Mama and Mad Swirl.



  1. I adore the language and sentiment of this poem.

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