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...

Social Contract by Rachel Willems

The politeness, not leaving any butter in the jam, or jam in the butter, or shoes in the hall. Not leaving any residue of who did...

Snowbound by Michael O’Neill

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

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...

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...

The Teacher by Manash Bhattacharjee

To Upal Deb He wasn’t a blackboard Framing flightless birds Not a classroom figure Offering the curriculum To rows of bored faces He sat on his bed facing The window Van...

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...

At Aya Sofia by Edward Lucie-Smith

Today it’s snowing, snowing In Istanbul, Stamboul, Constantinople, New Rome, Byzantium. The city has mislaid its Jews And most of its Greeks. The bones of its Armenians Are long scattered. Somewhere far...

At the Nursing Home by Leland James

—inside an old man vacant by the window Hold me occasionally for the light is fading and I can no longer see the hills that once rose...

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...

Exile by Manash Bhattacharjee

Exile “I rested my mouth on your memory” ~ Yannis Ritsos, from Diaries of Exile Night arrives like a cart You push it with motionless hands There is darkness But...

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...

Giggles by Evdokia Charalampous

With her eyes closed she has been staring at the lamps on the ceiling for days. By now they must look like Sufi dervishes whirling in white to...

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,...

For Calcutta by Manash Bhattacharjee

As I leave for Calcutta I think the city Always that other city Its river Ganga Always my other river Howrah Bridge What a colonial cradle A Raj suspended Kipling's imperial joy Hoogly...

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...

Caries by Fiona Sampson

Little hole little well of dark staining the lacquer of my tooth little confessor coming close and coming close why are you pursuing me interrogator of the nerve in its...

Stripping Gaza by Manash Bhattacharjee

For Najwan Darwish A lucky three-year-old Is Saher* Abu Namous If Gaza didn’t explode The world would have Known nothing of him Now he is all in reports One among the...

October by Lydia Towsey

October Pizza bruschetta gold dress Rioja Autumn is here and Winter forgotten Walking through town arm in arm with a lover Moon in the sky and leaves good...

Five Bullets for Sabeen Mahmud by Manash Bhattacharjee

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

Flash Fiction | Never Fall For That by Rebecca Lilly

"Clarify your intent," — Lama Chopra, our meditation teacher, rang the bell for us to sit — "the Reaper was once an old friend." My...

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...

Different Faces by Manash Bhattacharjee

"I wonder sometimes where people store all their different faces." ~ Trina Nileena Banerjee The face he wears every morning Reminds him of his mother Combing his hair...

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...

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