Welcome to the Ink Sweat & Tears Poetry Archive

This archive is formed from all the posts from that original Ink Sweat & Tears website, it now consists of everything we have published up to the end of 2019. IS&T was founded by Salt author Charles Christian in 2007 as a platform for new poetry and short prose, and experimental work in digital media. Charles ran the site single-handedly, publishing new work every day till 2010, when now sole editor, poet and artist Helen Ivory came on board as Deputy Editor. The Ink Sweat & Tears website continues to run and can be found here

You can either click on the poems below which run from most recent to oldest, or you can search for particular poem or poet, there is also a list of all the categories to click through. From Prose & Poetry to Words and Images, Haibun, Tanka, Haiku & Haiga, in addition we have all of the Poems of the month and Poetry picks, old blogs and news, award nominated, reviews and interviews.

Please do take a look.

Search the archive

Prose and poetry

Poems and prose published on the website from start to finish.

John Grey

      Image Sidewalks are silent, dark. Is that you? Details are fogged over but there's something about the shape, the walk. What are you doing in this neighborhood anyhow? Are you...

read more

Beth McDonough

      After Kirrie   We sat-nav under cloud, which might or might not burn off, adder our way up Glen Isla. Through the churchless conundrum of Kirkton of Kingoldrum let's...

read more

Kym Deyn

      Homeopathy for Spinsters I.    About the Weather People ask about the weather but mean other things. All of it, I say, all of it is about to break. My dreams come and go like...

read more

Kenneth Pobo

      Migration At the club you wear a bold orange shirt and purple pants.  I stay in and pop corn. Hot kernels dance in the pot.  The moon wears a bright red headband. It too...

read more

Veronica Aaronson

    I am the Prevaricator I’m distracted clearing Granny’s house. I don’t see the sprig of barbed wire sprouting with weeds in the garden. It rips my dress from pocket to hem. For weeks...

read more

Michael Bloor

      Auntie Pam's Postcard Dear Kylie, Saw this in the motorway services - I know you like pandas. You’d be expecting a card from Scotland, but we’ve only got as far as Doncaster –...

read more

Kate Noakes

      Pure Brilliant Ultra A long time ago there was queen and her king who lived in Pure Brilliant Ultra. Their land was made of Ash, Chalk and Wishbone their palace Cool with Jade,...

read more

Jack Andrew Lenton

      Blubberer "I do not know what I may appear to the world; but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in now and then finding...

read more


William Thompson

      Styx A felt-tip pushing back the skin. Spotlights. The high-pitched wailing of a sternal drill. Latex gloves, polyester gauze, brute strength. Then the ribcage lurching wide to...

read more

Poetry Picks

Our favourite poems and ‘best of’ chosen from each month between 2007 and 2019

Gregory Kearns

      Perfume Stranger, you smell like my dead dad. I have a cloud of weepy nostalgia for whatever perfume you have bought and wear. Stranger, what is this scent called? If I’d had to guess I would say it smells of lilies, but I don’t know what lilies...

Paul Grant

      When to stop eating chalk I am watching my niece Draw on the back door step With chalk Squiggles Almost shapes Almost something Going forward I will have no advice To give her About all of this About anything really Hopefully she'll have the good...

William Stephenson

      On the Origin of Electrofunk by Natural Selection Our fingers sprouted claws; our foreheads, feelers. Wires shook and gourds boomed in our hands, paws, podia.  We danced in spirals, bees on acid house: this rising buzz for louder, this spiral that...

Chrissy Banks

    If you don’t come back I will turn to the woods. To winter woods trees rising above their heap of leaves. I’ll turn to the hills that endure rain, flood, fog, snow and storm the worst winds and fires of full sun. I will follow the river that keeps on...

Jack Little

      The Metro After 1AM Each station marks an anonymous arrival. Behind screens, each tunnel descent is metal cold and hot air, cutting deeper into the Earth bright lights blinking on the city’s last bend before the volcanic rock, the lake bed, the...

Haibun, Tanka, Haiku, & Haiga

Haibun, Tanka, Haiku, & Haiga reviously published on the website.

Sonam Chhoki

      No substitute for this Late monsoon. The tea bushes in the lowland plantation form a verdant edge to Bagdogra airport on the Indo-Bhutan border. I am on a flight to New Delhi. A young man, his hair gelled and spiked, sits next to me. He asks to...

Richard Stevenson

      * Departure Bay: cumulo nimbi won’t take a hint (Nanaimo, BC) * Departure Bay – the rooster tail trail of a small speed boat * Emily Carr House – even the bees wipe their feet at each blossom porch * horse and buggy tour – a satellite dish aimed...

Angelee Deodhar

  Segue Our fast train stops just outside the station. On the abandoned weed littered railway track, smoke strands from a sadhu’s chulha drift past a sinking sun. A chorus of mynahs joins the cacophony of crows. The cantonment junction where my dad, a doctor in...

Wayne F. Burke

    * spasmodic second hand of the clock on the wall of the doctor's waiting room   *   walking along the beach my sore feet-- the moon wrapped in gauze   *   another email from Olive Garden-- what does she want now?      ...

E. Martin Pedersen

      * in Candyland where everything’s candy the winners get vegetables * at the politician’s funeral you had to push your way in * your delicious perfume gave me a migraine that never ended * all my adult life I have waited for the word: malignant *...

Sonam Chhoki

The Meeting A gaunt figure, head bent, face obscured, walks through the withered grass at the edge of the field. I don’t know why I think it’s a he. The measured stride seems to suggest a certain sense of purpose. Where is he bound for, through our overgrown land? And...

12 Days of Christmas

All the poems from our regular 12 days of Christmas feature.

Words & Images

Words with images previously published on the website.

Rob Stuart

        A Heap of Broken Images After T.S. Eliot and Robert Smithson           Rob Stuart is a media studies lecturer, filmmaker and light verse enthusiast living in Surrey. In addition to Ink, Sweat and Tears he has...

Julie Maclean

                      Simpson dingo girl   safe inside your canvas dreaming of the red track westward across the dunes   the lean shape-shifter   with toes of a dancer foxtrots the fringe        camp...

C. Albert

    Love   is a common word. Don't let your jaded mind forget its purest derivations. 1. A topiary forest, home of a hungry paradise, a rotund heaven. 2. The round rind bed on which a baby roundling sleeps blanketed in ove leaves. 3. Without umbrella for...

Blogs and news

Blogs and archived news from 2007 to 2020.

Reviews

Archived reviews from 2007 to 2020.

Interviews

Archived interviews from 2007 to 2020.