The Year of the Pin-Up Calendar by Imogen Cassels

Excerpts from a previously unpublished sequence of poems named The Year of the Pin-Up Calendar.Februarythere is a white pigeon opened like a book on the...

Madness by Patrick Cash

There’s a stream by the Avon ward Where I stand to watch the water flow And unwind the whirlpools of my mind When it’s dark I let...

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...

Poetry | Coot by Iain Twiddy

Iain TwiddyCoot It didn’t need to be a big ripple nudging its reed-nest for the overstep to plop into the up-plump of the breast,and the coot to...

What Follows by Theophilus Kwek

What FollowsDeer cull, Wytham 7th February 2015A moment’s pause before a fist of swallows spooks the sky above the nearest trees. Something shakes the fence-bound rows, bursts through...

The London Magazine Podcast | Episode 4 | A Discovery of...

We were recently contacted by Reverend Christian Mitchell of the church of Heathfield in rural Sussex, who had made a remarkable discovery. In one...

Counting by Ralf Webb

April doesn't rain. We have spent days watching the truant magpies comb our cat-eyed neighbour’s lawn for bottle caps and burnt-out tin foil. The cloying sun has not coaxed...

Poetry | Hidden Time by Alan Zhukovski

They live inside the warmth of typing fingers, inside the ghostly glass of hidden years you wanted to implant inside this week. The doors and windows to...

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...

Interview | Ben Aleshire

Ben Aleshire makes his living as a travelling poet, writing poems on his typewriter for whatever his readers can spare as a donation, a...

Difficult Cup by Isabel Galleymore

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

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...

Poetry | A Series of Ekphrastic Poems on Eileen Agar’s Marine...

Suzannah V. Evans is a poet, editor, and critic. The following series of poems was inspired by a visit to the exhibition Virginia Woolf:...

Review | The Neighbourhood by Hannah Lowe

Hannah Lowe’s fourth chapbook, The Neighbourhood, begins with a winding dotted line that travels from the first to the second page. The image continues...

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...

Poetry | Under the Loquat by Peter Anderson

He had that majority under the loquat, rain falling like a god in gold, the breakthrough sun, and the spin on things, tar growing a fur. Loitered...

Eros and Asbo by Miles Burrows

As a man under a restraining order Still follows his ex about from day to day I stalk your shadow as if you could show up In...

Four Watercolours by Sudeep Sen

The London Magazine has been celebrating the life of our former editor, Alan Ross. An important figure in the literary world, Alan was known...

Poetry | Waking Under the Walnut Street Bridge by Mara Adamitz...

        let me persist but not divide        let me sitquietly with        the tiniest    ...

This Dark Art by Neil Burns

This Dark ArtIf you can look into the seeds of time, And say which grain will grow, and which will not. Speak. - Macbeth, Act 1...

Interview | Robert Lundquist: Never say sorry or common words again

My Father was a boxer. He taught me how to box when I was nine. This commonality, and the need to impress him, informed a great deal. When Charles Bukowski at an event asked me to ‘take it outside’ over a girl, I said okay. I was 21 and shy. Everyone at the party kept telling him [...]

The First Time They Lowered The Flags by Peter Ainsworth

The first time they lowered the flags The President bowed his head.The next time they placed flowers To mourn the dead.The time after that they held A...

Poetry | Translated Love Letters by Andrew McMillan

from Norwegian / oh love, doesn't the fact that the world is so big, / laid out like ripe fruit / make you want to stay? / from Arabic / how I long to cleanse you / in the waters of the Tigris / how I long, as though you were a small and / priceless artefact, / to take you in my arms / from Ant-speak / I will carry you carry you / through legions of grass / protect you from the thumb, / the sole; the eager-feathered bird / will not swoop for you / from American / love is just love, and I'm in it / for the ride, o.k.? that tells me just exactly

Poetry | Joan Howson’s Cottage by Michael Henry

Michael HenryJoan Howson's Cottage This is Black Rock Sands that ............my parents walked to from their honeymoon hideaway. Those are the footprints they left ............on the sand. That is the...

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