Through it by Ila Colley

This is not throwing plates, how you ask me. Too late for that. This is a whisper dissection. Thisis a beggar’s hand in my mouth. This is...

Onion Music by Mark Fiddes

I grow lighter for you with each striptease from skin to skin leaving a glimmering bulb a milk light by your bed for you to undress by or find your...

Poetry | Poem by Kyriakos Frangoulis

The moon is a sealed coffin A boast The moon of poets The moon of dogs The moon of ovaries The moon of astronauts The invisible moon Knived Sick Yellow Waning Moon-wreath of everyday Moon of...

Five Bullets for Sabeen Mahmud by Manash Bhattacharjee

“Is it tomorrow, or just the end of time?”~ Jimi Hendrix, Purple HazeSabeen had a list of crimes to her name – She ran a...

They Would Have All That by Mary Jean Chan

To sing the evening home, the lover prepares a pot of lentil stew – her phone lighting up to the news of love’s imminent arrival, imaginingher lover’s...

Poetry | The Air Has Cleared by Manash Firaq Bhattacharjee

The air has cleared today,Over the city, and in my head,I see the trees breatheThe invisible greenness of air,I feel the taste of sunlightOn...

Spotlight IV: Penned in the Margins

The London Magazine has long been a champion of emerging writers and independent publishers, stretching back to the 1950s and 60s, when young writers...

Extract | The Leaflets by Ferdous Sadat

The following poem is taken from the anthology Tales of Two Londons: Stories from a Fractured City, ed. Claire Armitstead, Arcadia Books, London, 2019.Ferdous...

We Wait for Poets by Manash Bhattacharjee

prophets have retired so do not wait for yours to come to you ~ Ashraf Fayadh (translated by Mona Kareem)In our country, a prince, Dara Shikoh, had...

Archive | Poetry | The Wiper by Louis MacNeice

First published in the May 1960 issue of The London Magazine (Volume 7, No. 5).Through purblind night the wiper Reaps a swathe of water

Pigeons by Kate Bingham

IIt’s just the same old air a person breathes, roughly the same respiratory system, steady compared with ours, the same idea of hindrance (flesh the breath must...

Poetry | Trapeze by Layla Benitez-James

Layla Benitez-JamesTrapeze A rabbit might be taken away from a butcher by two different people and prepared separately; I mean, the structural integrity of my...

Lifesaving by Wes Lee

LifesavingThey don’t do it anymore, breathe into the mouth to save.We had learnt it reluctantly, lined up beside a recumbent dummy,waiting to take our turn to...

Towpath by Neil Burns

IThe Lagan - a muddy silt river - Barrel of roll-tide, ribs of clean branches Poke up water jutting. On the towpath I glean a warm wet...

Poetry | Almost-Heartwood by Suzannah V. Evans

The rosy almost-heartwood of larch, / which sounds like lark, which sounds like singing, / which sounds like the wood could open its rosy throat / and pour forth the song of boats / sighing in the harbour, / swimming onto slipways, knocking against pontoons / The grainy planks of teak, / which sounds like talk, which sounds like the boatbuilders / as they ease about the wooded space, handling compass planes, / talking of cleats and chines and carvels, making tea [...]
Poet in Delhi

Poet in Delhi by Manash Bhattacharjee

Can you rinse away this city that lastslike blood on the bitten tongue?~ Agha Shahid Ali Delhi,where parrots liftthe weight of tombs,poets offer daggersto deepen...

Poetry | On His Deafness by Damian Grant

'No-one has ever written a poem “On His Deafness”'; (David Lodge, Deaf Sentence). - - - - - - - - - - - - - -...

Spotlight II: Dostoyevsky Wannabe

The London Magazine has long been a champion of emerging writers and independent publishers, stretching back to the 1950s and 60s, when young writers...

Evening Light

Evening LightBrave bat in a bowler hat Blood shot eyes question What time does this light Depart?The light descends elsewhere Its shadow rising here The bat changes into an...

Poetry | The Scientist by Andrew Wynn Owen

Andrew Wynn OwenThe Scientist Before the time of skiing on Europa,               Enceladus still a far-flung starry dream, When humankind had...

Bright Celestial Objects by Rebecca Goss

After Alison Watt, ‘Venus’ (2015)Their backs against the grass, she felt a pull, as if the leaveson the trees were lodestones, the hairs on her skin...

The Lighthouse by Michael Shann

The Lighthouse Markhouse RoadSo far from the wine-dark sea, a displaced monument to faith and absurdityat the turn of a neat, Victorian street. Still, the treacherous rocks...

Poetry | A Letter from Brooklyn by Derek Walcott

Derek WalcottA Letter from Brooklyn An old lady writes me in a spidery style, Each character trembling, and I see a veined hand Pellucid as paper, travelling...

Snowbound by Michael O’Neill

SnowboundCarriages lit and still between the drifts ... With each flake it took on a new form, the city they seemed exiled from --- almost a sad,...

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