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.

IS&T Shop

Buy Ink Sweat & Tears Publishing books and pamphlets here.

Featured Poetry/Prose of the Day

Kate Noakes

If you follow faerie lights
that wisp where boardwalk
becomes trackway, make sure
you’re stocked with milk,
or bread and salt.

Gopal Lahiri

My father stitched an evening with current ripples
spill over rocks and shadows gather at the corner,

Paul Loney

i was standing
very still
my mind

Mai Ishikawa

Taxi I took shelter under a tree, where you also sheltered. You looked at me awkwardly, as if to say Excuse me before shaking your feathers – a tiny droplet landed on my cheek. Suspended, we held each other responsible for the silence. We listened to the rain landing drop after drop, spreading a beaded carpet over us, and we appreciated that we had no words in common. You began to sing – like a radio turned on by a taxi driver in Tokyo, wearing white gloves. You signalled to look up at the stars – nameless like us – humming the day-to-day joy. The rain set its foot on the brakes nearing the destination. You took off, shedding the stars.   Mai Ishikawa is a Japanese translator/poet based in Dublin. Her poems have appeared in the Irish journals The Stony Thursday Book, Banshee, Ragaire and Channel. Winner of Kyoto Writing Competition Unohana Prize and a participant of Dedalus Press Mentoring Programme.

Lue Mac

Sad how things expire before you work out
what they mean. Like earlier I was noticing
the rose petals on the path, all damp and slick,

Previously featured

Recent Prose

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.

Jude Mason

I have compiled an incomplete list of the small and many forms of sadness that can be experienced by humans. The sadness of cracking the spine of a new book. The sadness of odd socks. The sadness of attempting to pet a cat, but the cat does not wish to be petted.

Fokkina McDonnell

I begged my boss to let me do the interview with the fire historian. I have form, I told him.

Recent Haiku

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.

Jayant Kashyap

We are in the bath, your hands
around my back, mine around yours—
everything covered in a fog.

News

Word & Image

J.I. Kleinberg

J.I. Kleinberg

Here,
the rain
collaged
The first
mud
allegory.
The
uncertain
fields
the
gravel

read more

Filmpoems

Moira McPartlin

Moira McPartlin

Magnificence
For Spike Walker, Photomicrographer

What jewelled gifts are these,
spliced and stacked on platters
of smeared glass?
A universe of micro.

read more

Featured Poetry/Prose of the Day

Kate Noakes

If you follow faerie lights
that wisp where boardwalk
becomes trackway, make sure
you’re stocked with milk,
or bread and salt.

Gopal Lahiri

My father stitched an evening with current ripples
spill over rocks and shadows gather at the corner,

Paul Loney

i was standing
very still
my mind

Mai Ishikawa

Taxi I took shelter under a tree, where you also sheltered. You looked at me awkwardly, as if to say Excuse me before shaking your feathers – a tiny droplet landed on my cheek. Suspended, we held each other responsible for the silence. We listened to the rain landing drop after drop, spreading a beaded carpet over us, and we appreciated that we had no words in common. You began to sing – like a radio turned on by a taxi driver in Tokyo, wearing white gloves. You signalled to look up at the stars – nameless like us – humming the day-to-day joy. The rain set its foot on the brakes nearing the destination. You took off, shedding the stars.   Mai Ishikawa is a Japanese translator/poet based in Dublin. Her poems have appeared in the Irish journals The Stony Thursday Book, Banshee, Ragaire and Channel. Winner of Kyoto Writing Competition Unohana Prize and a participant of Dedalus Press Mentoring Programme.

Lue Mac

Sad how things expire before you work out
what they mean. Like earlier I was noticing
the rose petals on the path, all damp and slick,

News

Word & Image

J.I. Kleinberg

J.I. Kleinberg

Here,
the rain
collaged
The first
mud
allegory.
The
uncertain
fields
the
gravel

read more

Filmpoems

Moira McPartlin

Moira McPartlin

Magnificence
For Spike Walker, Photomicrographer

What jewelled gifts are these,
spliced and stacked on platters
of smeared glass?
A universe of micro.

read more

Previously featured

Recent Prose

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.

Jude Mason

I have compiled an incomplete list of the small and many forms of sadness that can be experienced by humans. The sadness of cracking the spine of a new book. The sadness of odd socks. The sadness of attempting to pet a cat, but the cat does not wish to be petted.

Fokkina McDonnell

I begged my boss to let me do the interview with the fire historian. I have form, I told him.

Recent Haiku

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.

Jayant Kashyap

We are in the bath, your hands
around my back, mine around yours—
everything covered in a fog.

Picks of the Month

Reviews