Old mother moor by Sarah WestcottPoetry, Poetry, WritingOld mother moor is bitter – peat is the thinnest of comforts the bedrock is recalcitrant as teeth moor like…
PanicArticles, Poetry A helicopter quarters the night sky, sets off alarms in my mind. Downstairs, doors forget to lock and there’s…
An interview with Patricia McCarthyCompetitions, Competitions, Interviews, News, WritingWe spoke to Patricia McCarthy, one of the judges for our Poetry Prize 2017, who gave a bit of advice on…
Poetry Prize 2017Competitions, Competitions, NewsAs of midnight tonight (30th June 2017) this competition will be closed. The London Magazine has been home to some…
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