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

Towpath by Neil Burns

I The 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...

Interview | Raymond Antrobus

Raymond Antrobus is a poet, educator, curator, editor and investigator of missing sounds, who is a founding member of Chill Pill as well as the Keats...

Questions Concerning Aristotle’s Tomb by Manash Bhattacharjee

An archaeologist in Greece unearths Aristotle’s Tomb; others dispute the evidence. If Aristotle’s ideas are consulted, the archaeologist Needs to prove, the tomb’s where he claims it, Not...

The Veil by Manash Bhattacharjee

She walks past the wave Of curious glances An apparition eluding Light and desire Everything she hides from Trembles in her body She remembers the lures In every street But no street...

Home from Greece by Robert Selby

Above whitewashed, tabby-haunted Kamari, I wearied of the incessant inversions in Pope’s Homer, and left my self-improvement’s cooling terrace to the night, now drawing in here too, across...

Acrostic by Sudeep Sen

(R.I.P. Derek Walcott: January 23, 1930 – March 17, 2017) Deep seas of yesteryears wash new froth on your home shores. Egrets, sea gulls, circle the...

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...

Poetry | Woman by Manash Bhattacharjee

Woman “It’s easy, impossible, hard, worth trying.” ~ Wislawa Szymborska, “Portrait of a Woman” (1976) She is intimately attached To night and day. Only...
SYRIA by Ghayth Armanazi

SYRIA by Ghayth Armanazi

SUFFER THE COUNTRY   Suffer the curled up corpses of the tortured Suffer the cluttered ranks of the bound and the beaten Suffer the pleading eyes of those...

Difficult Cup by Isabel Galleymore

after Wu Hao’s Duke Cups The china cup is frilled at the rim like tired lace and all over it ceramic tentacles extend to whisper if you drink...

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 | The Goldfinches of Rome by Peter Anderson

Carduelis carduelis (Fringilla carduelis. Linn. 1758) Dawn on the Palatine: planets bow out, stars pick their way through rat-traps and incident tape. The morning after the party...

Coming Thunder by James McAskill

When we stole the eggs from the barn that June  you said we held life in our hands.  Untrue I said as I carried a near...

Review | Xeixa: Fourteen Catalan Poets

Xeixa: Fourteen Catalan Poets Tupelo Press, 2018, edited by Marlon L. Fick and Francisca Esteve The news in recent months has been splashed with images of...

The Cult of Isaac by M. G. Stephens

THE CULT OF ISAAC We all know about Abraham, the great religions emanating from his skull, but what about Isaac, where is his world taken into theological thought, mulled...

Poetry | The Sleepers by Sylvia Plath

No map traces the street Where those two sleepers are. We have lost track of it. They lie as if under water In a blue, unchanging light, The French...

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 breathe The invisible greenness of air, I feel the taste of sunlight On...

Madonna and Child by Hugh Dunkerley

Don’t believe the lies: Joseph was a randy little sod. That’s why we had to leave, go back to Bethlehem where he told his family I was pregnant with...

Archive | Philip Larkin | Two Poems: To The Sea, Annus...

Two Poems, Philip Larkin London Magazine / January 1970 / Vol.9 No.10     Philip Larkin, (1922-1985) a prolific poet and writer of essays,...

Partita, 1968 by Hannah Lowe

Partita, 1968 When the tabla and double bass are really moving the raga in full swing I think of when I used to run for hours, for...

Poetry | A Letter from Brooklyn by Derek Walcott

An old lady writes me in a spidery style, Each character trembling, and I see a veined hand Pellucid as paper, travelling on a skein Of such...

Five Years Ago by Manash Bhattacharjee

                        To Fady Joudah I was waiting at the platform For a train to Calcutta In...

Poetry | Atlantic Palimpsest by Kerri ní Dochartaigh

-for Heaney and the Peace Bridge Grey and greying sky reflected in choppy body, as our matching heron performs his balancing act for all to see. The Donegal hills,...

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