She went to take a photo on her phone the other day for her Facebook page,
when everything started going a little bit Dorian Gray.
She looked at the screen and it was blank
behind her some dude in black is doing a devil skank
and he says to her:
Why don’t you lean a bit closer
why don’t you open eyes wider and see?
She does. And in a blink...
We showcase a compelling new poem by rising talent Carrie SalemThe three children stood in the somehow depthless afternoon light,
under a sky that now had a decided yellowish tinge, and looked at the dead bear at the foot of the telephone pole.
The pole was leaning crookedly.
Four feet up from its base, the creosoted wood was splintered and splashed...
Open's poem by Harry Riley is inspired by the current conflict in the Gaza Strip. Let Loose the Dogs of War
by Harry Riley
Let loose the dogs of war
Let bullets fly and bombs reign down
We have to kill some more.
It’s not our fault, the world must know
We cannot stop we must not fail
We owe it to our unborn child
He has to see, he has to know...
I dream of flotsam
and the child’s ocean;
Africa’s branch worn smooth
by the spin of the sea,
rolling through the troughs
until the breakers
lay it upon the cold sands
of England’s autumn,
with crisp leaves edging through
the fine grip of shell crystal
to meet the ancient log.
And my stick thrown back,
which I carried...
By Poetry Review Editor Fiona Sampson, written for the launch of Open MagazineThis is not a dream.
Open the door.
Pale walls,
dark carpet on parquet flooring
and a paint smell
which reminds you of long ago,
end of summer,
maybe classrooms –
the thought slipping away
as your feet sink...
No I don't have a portfolio,
I'd rather have typhus or polio,
I hope you don't mind,
But I'm starting to find,
That I'd rather just stay on the dolio.
And no I don't have a CV,
There's nothing I wanted to be,
There's much more to do,
At the back of the queue,
So don't bother to interview me.
I'm really not out to impress,
Though I do have...