Archive | Poetry | The Wiper by Louis MacNeice

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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

The Year of the Pin-Up Calendar by Imogen Cassels

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Excerpts from a previously unpublished sequence of poems named The Year of the Pin-Up Calendar.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

Counting by Ralf Webb

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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...

Difficult Cup by Isabel Galleymore

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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...

Home from Greece by Robert Selby

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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...

Lifesaving by Wes Lee

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Lifesaving They 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 | Waking Under the Walnut Street Bridge by Mara Adamitz...

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        let me persist but not divide        let me sit quietly with        the tiniest    ...

The First Time They Lowered The Flags by Peter Ainsworth

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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...

Interview | Ben Aleshire

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

This Dark Art by Neil Burns

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

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

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

Poetry | The Line by Fiona Sampson

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White trunks divide the dark beside the line and in the dusk trees pause since if they do not move they cannot see themselves or know this moment has...

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

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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 | WITCH by Rebecca Tamás

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In her latest collection, WITCH, Rebecca Tamás explores the triumphs and oppression, the strengths and weaknesses, the power and the fears that generations of...

Eros and Asbo by Miles Burrows

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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...

Poetry | Trapeze by Layla Benitez-James

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

Poetry | Hidden Time by Alan Zhukovski

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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...

Men by Belinda Rule

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I only like imaginary men, the ones who think my art is the most transporting thing they have ever seen, and I am exactly as hilarious as I actually, actually am. Even then,...

Poetry | Under the Loquat by Peter Anderson

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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...

Four Watercolours by Sudeep Sen

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

Coming Thunder by James McAskill

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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...

Puddocks by John Greening

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for SECH   Clare would have called these five red kites circling above dead or stag’s-headed oaks like iambs broken from a line of English pastoral by a name that signifies a deed...

Translated Love Letters by Andrew McMillan

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From The London Magazine October/November 2009 Translated Love Letters from Norwegian oh love, doesn't the fact that the world is so big, laid out like ripe fruit make you...

Two Hundred Twenty a Kilo by Nabarun Bhattacharya, translated by Manash...

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(Homage to Karl Marx) Nabarun Bhattacharya (23 June 1948 – 31 July 2014) On the floor of a slaughterhouse A butcher’s leg slips in the blood Crows go raucous...

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