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The archive is a separate site formed from all the posts from that original Ink Sweat & Tears website, it consists of everything we have published up to the end of 2019.

Recent posts

Rizwan Akhtar

      Pause a crow much wet by rain falling in massive subtractions almost a dark shadow perched on a wire with washings beak dripping words now halted by fatigues of itineraries neck subdued by water’s weight feathers drizzling alone looked straight...

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Marc Vincenz

        Such a Victorian The bird that flutters reaches out Into time; knee-deep in nerve gas, At the cemetery gates, the children play Like half-opened flowers on a breeze; but, Deep in the coffers beneath that layer of non- Sense all along the...

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Car Park Haiku by Steve Harrison

'Car Park Haiku' printed using a car park printer.   Steve Harrison lives in Shropshire. He has been published in The Emergency Poet collections, Pop Shot, Wetherspoons News, HCE, and appears on YouTube as steve harrison poet. He performs across the Midlands and...

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John Lynch

      Diagnosis I make lists for her, fill in the calendar, get her to keep a diary. She’s knitting again, a scarf to start with, reading now too - hides her romances amongst the bedsheets in the linen basket. She stumbles, says, Doris when she means...

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kelsey blacklight

      i don't need to puncture my body or stain my face or pour bleach on my scalp to feel beautiful.     kelsey blacklight (@slntstrwbrry) is a writer from the USA. They have appeared in wingless dreamer and enjoy guacamole, live music, and...

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Subitha Baghirathan

      Sari shop, Easton A step through a doorway An overnight ‘plane journey A month’s ship voyage Easton to Lahore By pushing open a door. A woman closer to death than birth Lies swaddled in the corner Atop a pile of rainbow-plush rugs Princess and the...

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Paul Case

    Bridges They push forward, vibrating in their ecstatic skirmish, voices unified over gang choruses, clenched fists raised toward the ceiling. They might glimpse us, on the cusp stage lights’ sweep, hidden like old toys. We’ll be softly nodding our heads...

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Malavika

    THINGS I REGRET. A professor. My love. Another professor. Her caste. Two countries. Not sure which one. Not eating on time. Not doing sprints. The girl in the street I broke a wind chimer of. Hotel rooms. Not raising voice. Vaccines but unrecognised....

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Kari Pindoria

    i collect items left behind by ex-boyfriends as if they are souvenirs i count myself lucky and hold my breath in the shower to practice peace on days that feel like a blister i know somewhere children are laughing and you are folding your favourite pair...

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Sunyi Dean

      Kleptomaniac  Lover, all my life I've been lightfingered to the nth degree finagling what wasn't mine, some rings and lipstick, once a dress her sun-drained hair, a hidden glance two books I loved yet never read family heirlooms, happiness (all...

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Joseph Ajilore

    THE CHILD BECOMES A PARENT She comes bearing gifts and apologies Giving love out of guilt From my days as an embryo, I knew her Whispers in my phone past bedtime Climbing through the window past curfews Teenage angst and my insecurity shows 'I hate you,...

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Paul Fenn

      Lifesaving practice We make a strange creature, him and I. Father and son, endlessly enacting death and resurrection in the local pool. Locked in an awkward embrace, my back forever to his front. My heart balancing on his heart; smooth wet pebble...

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Daniel Sluman

    morphine the first time i drank morphine a weight slid over my heart   & the whole summer collapsed under me   my head packed with ice phone overflowing with garbled texts   & all because of this vertebra   a firecracker in a...

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Mike Farren

      Out nights were forest with foliage too dense to let in the light of moon and stars – and days were savannah   prairie   steppe – glory and danger in strangeness of mountain and sea and river – survival was tracking the flock to the watering hole...

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Daniel Richardson

      A Talkative Saint who lived in a hedge He was caught up in what he did and he couldn’t do enough of it and he did it all the time. He would talk about it to anyone even if they told him they couldn’t understand a word of it and didn’t want to...

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Honey Baxter

      I’m crying in a bar when a wise old cowboy turns to me and says If you found love now, you’d run it right into the ground. I bet you sit around swallowing up everybody else’s light, wondering why you never end up being anything but midnight. I...

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B. Anne Adriaens

      The unloved pipes It’s not rats (there are no rats); it’s the goddam plumbing cobbled together by some inept predecessor. Knocking whenever the heating comes on, clanging whenever the shower’s turned on, clicking whenever hot water rushes through...

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Edmund Prestwich

      Lockdown Release Suddenly summer. Parakeets whirled above, too fast for more than a glimpse of jade green glitter, an after-echo of cries Flowers leaned on walls, bright lips breathed fragrant calls the insects answered, wings a glinting blur,...

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Samo Kreutz

      Haiku morning fog still recognizable children's laughter * winter begins no place in my notebook for revised resolutions * first snow her hair shines in a new colour     Samo Kreutz lives in Ljubljana, Slovenia. Besides haiku (which he...

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