Ink Sweat & Tears is a UK based webzine which publishes and reviews poetry, prose, prose-poetry, word & image pieces and everything in between. Our tastes are eclectic and magpie-like and we aim to publish something new every day.

We try to keep waiting-time short, but because of increased submissions, the current waiting time between submission and publication is around twelve weeks.

If you have come here looking for more information on our ‘Uprising & Resistance’ Project in conjunction with Spread the Word and Black Beyond Data, please go here.

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Featured Poetry/Prose of the Day

Chris Powici

Waves
poured over the skerries and I thought of broken crates, creel buoys, bits and pieces of sailcloth –things a child might play with – coming in on the tide; how everything we do, or dream, returns

Royal Rhodes

Perhaps the friends of Lazarus, who died
and slipped his shroud, on seeing him might swoon
or rush to hear the tales of that beyond
they hoped and feared to face.

Dmitry Blizniuk for World Poetry Day

God in his worn, greasy jeans like a car mechanic
is lighting a new life from an old one.

Jeff Skinner

It takes ages. Tell me what it is you’re after
she says, when finally I get through.

Annabelle Markwick-Staff

I devoured the Olympics, filled my mouth
and scrapbook with sticky ephemera.

Previously featured

Royal Rhodes

Perhaps the friends of Lazarus, who died
and slipped his shroud, on seeing him might swoon
or rush to hear the tales of that beyond
they hoped and feared to face.

read more

Recent Prose

Tim Kiely

If J.M. Spugg inspired anything like admiration or fellow-feeling, it was among people who had never actually interacted with J.M. Spugg.

Rida Jaleel

On my fourth birthday, my grandfather and I lowered a mango sapling into the ground together, his large loamy palms covering mine. This summer, when we sliced them open—mangoes the color of marigolds—I couldn’t get over the fact that this moment wouldn’t exist if I didn’t. That without really knowing, my grandfather had written me into the red-brick house’s legacy.

Cliff McNish

Heaven For starters, the standard works everyone gets: three trumpets blown in unison; your name acclaimed to the galactic hegemony of stars; plus assorted angels with ceramically smooth hands (the nail-work!) casting wholesale quantities of petals...

Jesse Keng Sum Lee

Lloyd is dressed like a candy bar in an all-too-bright gas station. Gleaming red tracksuit,
brand name under the sternum like a label.

Kapka Nilan

When she left, the winds picked up and the bloated sun filled the horizon with fire, the sky turning ochre. She hurried in the heat, leaving behind what she called a tribe, not a homeland.

Recent Haiku

Clare Bryden

how do I begin?

R.C. Thomas

The Universe dreamed I’d come to its restaurant. I needed to pass the time before my train home.

Anthony Lusardi

the highway asphalt. reeks of exhaust and burnt rubber. the cars and trucks go by. the sun boiling and you rotting.

Chen-ou Liu

snow crystals
on my neighbor’s windows …
Foreclosure askew

& more

Shasta Hatter

Empty Basket

Driving down the boulevard, I see large trees decorated with pink and white blossoms, evergreens tower over houses, trees flourish with spring greenery.

News

Word & Image

Filmpoems

Pariolodo for World Poetry Day

Pariolodo for World Poetry Day

I Am a Poet

Unruly, rebellious like a song of protest
History unfurls at the tip of my pen
I am breaking out of the matrix
This piece is a chain reaction

read more

Featured Poetry/Prose of the Day

Chris Powici

Waves
poured over the skerries and I thought of broken crates, creel buoys, bits and pieces of sailcloth –things a child might play with – coming in on the tide; how everything we do, or dream, returns

Royal Rhodes

Perhaps the friends of Lazarus, who died
and slipped his shroud, on seeing him might swoon
or rush to hear the tales of that beyond
they hoped and feared to face.

Dmitry Blizniuk for World Poetry Day

God in his worn, greasy jeans like a car mechanic
is lighting a new life from an old one.

Jeff Skinner

It takes ages. Tell me what it is you’re after
she says, when finally I get through.

Annabelle Markwick-Staff

I devoured the Olympics, filled my mouth
and scrapbook with sticky ephemera.

News

Word & Image

Filmpoems

Pariolodo for World Poetry Day

Pariolodo for World Poetry Day

I Am a Poet

Unruly, rebellious like a song of protest
History unfurls at the tip of my pen
I am breaking out of the matrix
This piece is a chain reaction

read more

Previously featured

Royal Rhodes

Perhaps the friends of Lazarus, who died
and slipped his shroud, on seeing him might swoon
or rush to hear the tales of that beyond
they hoped and feared to face.

read more

Recent Prose

Tim Kiely

If J.M. Spugg inspired anything like admiration or fellow-feeling, it was among people who had never actually interacted with J.M. Spugg.

Rida Jaleel

On my fourth birthday, my grandfather and I lowered a mango sapling into the ground together, his large loamy palms covering mine. This summer, when we sliced them open—mangoes the color of marigolds—I couldn’t get over the fact that this moment wouldn’t exist if I didn’t. That without really knowing, my grandfather had written me into the red-brick house’s legacy.

Cliff McNish

Heaven For starters, the standard works everyone gets: three trumpets blown in unison; your name acclaimed to the galactic hegemony of stars; plus assorted angels with ceramically smooth hands (the nail-work!) casting wholesale quantities of petals...

Jesse Keng Sum Lee

Lloyd is dressed like a candy bar in an all-too-bright gas station. Gleaming red tracksuit,
brand name under the sternum like a label.

Kapka Nilan

When she left, the winds picked up and the bloated sun filled the horizon with fire, the sky turning ochre. She hurried in the heat, leaving behind what she called a tribe, not a homeland.

Recent Haiku

Clare Bryden

how do I begin?

R.C. Thomas

The Universe dreamed I’d come to its restaurant. I needed to pass the time before my train home.

Anthony Lusardi

the highway asphalt. reeks of exhaust and burnt rubber. the cars and trucks go by. the sun boiling and you rotting.

Chen-ou Liu

snow crystals
on my neighbor’s windows …
Foreclosure askew

& more

Shasta Hatter

Empty Basket

Driving down the boulevard, I see large trees decorated with pink and white blossoms, evergreens tower over houses, trees flourish with spring greenery.

Picks of the Month

Reviews