Wait Until Spring Poems by Bradford Middleton


I sit here at last, 
At long fucking last, 
Free as a bird just like the Skynyrd used to sing about
At last free from the distraction of work
Or survival in a town where I very nearly
Gave up all hope.

Today, however, I sit here
In a place that one day, a very long time
From now I hope, will be home
And yet it already does as the
Stress and horror of my other life
Is finally eviscerated as I return to 
These blessed Arms of Love


With a few months away,
Stuck working on the fiction 
As I got used to my new job,
It feels good, no, scratch that
This feels fucking great to
Even just sit here & write this
Poem for no one but me
Just to say 10 new poems
In the last 8 days shows I
Still got it & man alive I
Feel this could be 
The dawning of a new day
When I just got to feel glad
To be alive!


As the nights come to close later with every passing
Setting of the sun you’ll see the expressions of the down & 
Out and those not much removed from the pavement change
As the realisation that spring is on its way and will
Soon be here to captivate all but provide, for us down
Here at least, a brief respite from another night spent on a
Mattress in an ice-box of a room or for those poor souls 
Who call the street their home.



Bradford Middleton still lives in Brighton on England’s south-coast where he works part-time in a shop and full-time on his words. His latest book, The Whiskey Stings Good Tonight, was recently published by the Alien Buddha Press. Recent poems have appeared in Cajun Mutt Press, Cacti Fur, Fixator Press, Horror Sleaze Trash, Rye Whiskey Review and the glorious Mad Swirl. He tweets occasionally @BradfordMiddle5.

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