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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

Runaways London

Whilst many people view the trade in enslaved people as something which took place along the so-called ‘Middle Passage’ between Africa and the Americas, between the 1650s and 1780s many hundreds of enslaved people were brought to London. Most were African although a...

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Ira Lightman

      Family Tree Health Plan Blossomy buds circulate, fervid. Scarlet inertia steams past panacea from saps as unction. Closure was mental on a cliff's slope. Twig held to lost hope. Defensive surgery of bark heeds smoky premonition. Forced admission's...

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Angela France reviews Everlove by Maggie Butt

Everlove is a title to live up to but the poems in Maggie Butt’s sixth collection are everloving in that they demonstrate her enduring and empathetic concern with the human condition. The collection is arranged in three sections, the first of which ‘Torn’ is...

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Zelda Cahill-Patten

      Street-preacher She looks at me with that fearsome oil-sheen in her eyes, the weighty conviction of milk-heavy gaze and breasts, telling me (the spittle-flecked words like Words made flesh) of her Father, how he is unseen, felt unstirring in the...

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Maeve McKenna

      Dream State Covers tight as clingfilm. Tell them you fell headfirst, steadied yourself, sucked out what was left in your throat, coughed that creamy polyethylene onto the pillow. Eyeballs infused with miniature blue irises plunge into the well....

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Abigail Elizabeth Ottley

      Widows Walk Evenings she puts on her second-best hat skewered with a tortoise shell pin, buttons up her heart in a mauve mohair coat sallies forth to pick a bone with the moon. On the red-leaded step she scans the stars imagines them white sparks...

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Guy Elston

      You Call This Summer More like a chicken bone tossed to a pigeon. More like a half-portion of peanut butter slicked in the jar we never throw out. I pedal through birds in Tommy Thompson, all strong enough to fly south soon – if I check the water...

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Yuanbing Zhang translates Hongri Yuan

      My Heaven is Inside My Body My heaven is inside my body, my heaven is a great many, like stars in the night sky, with silver towers, huge edifices that look like sapphires, golden palaces, gardens of crystal. My body is bigger than the universe,...

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Kamrun Nahar

      Manipulation the song of silence can demolish thousands springs Today I tell a story about a young girl who was very skittish in her childhood . Couldn't seat a single place for a minute, couldn't remain few seconds silence without thinking...

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Velvet by Ofem Ubi

      https://youtu.be/vyVeR4vWkcM   my grandfather’s dentition looks like a bad floor tiling but I love it. my new routine is playing hide and seek In the spaces between his 92 yr. old teeth. I cling to the roof of his mouth when he flosses,...

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Julie Stevens

      Insomnia Night shakes hurt the most. Firm hands strangle the life out of sedate songs. You’re awake breathing the curse of noise, as dark sniggers. The hours clang, trees thump the ground, damp air sharpens knives. Prickly reminders have lodged in...

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