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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
Jasmine Gibbs
Messages, Signs, Codes This morning – Blackstar, Bowie, those jazz swan songs sputtering from the CD player, wild trumpets that convulse through negative space. Funny, coincidences like that; awoke to a bonewrong feeling, my senses pricked like...
Vote for the IS&T April 2026 Pick of the Month!
VOTING HAS NOW CLOSED. THE APRIL PICK OF THE MONTH WILL BE ANNOUNCED IN THE NEXT WEEK. A strong group of shortlisted poets this month, many, if not all, deeply talented in different genres and all examining the human condition in important and moving ways....
Jane Pearn
skin the pool holds my face my breath ripples the water creases my skin settles still again my skin water skin sky skin all that holds us in Jane Pearn's poems and short stories have appeared in several print and online magazines....
Robin Lindsay Wilson
Miss Betina Wauchope Disappears From the 1927 painting ‘Interior: Orange Blind’ by FCB Cadell. The single crimson rose she wears in her lapel, to test his imperfections, draws him into detail; pointing a thinner brush at her wintery cheeks, the...
Ian Hickey
Stop When the half-light drops below the horizon the birth of darkness comes and I can see myself in the mirror of the moon madness shining in the moonlight The birdsong gone The hedges silent The world edges to a place of no return and I’m trying...
Rose Lennard
How to master the air walk dance craze My mother died seven years ago, but last night she had a message for me. The mechanics are irrelevant, what she gave stays with me: the word: dancing. It makes sense, I always pictured her released back into...
Rongili Biswas
Rosary peas Girls under the tree, one with hands clasped as in worship, the others picking the scarlet fallen seeds, so they could string them, those necklace beads. They’ve played this game since sun-up, and even now, all through this windswept...
Laura Sheahen
Outsider What is the ancient curse they know that you don’t Moving along their mouth-lines and their eyebrows Lowering their lids, tensing their nods or shrugs No spell has locked their lips but they are silent Watching you try, watching you fall...
Sabine Wilson-Patrick
home poem 2 hi mum im good mum how are you good good yeah im okay yes im fine you yes I wrote my essay I got a first I want to go home 1000 pounds yes of flesh dry cracked sticking out in the winter yes I got the coat from sports...
Marilyn Ricci
Short-lived After his baby son died he strapped a tumble dryer to his back and ran the roads around the village. Stocky, shaved head, blue shorts and vest, white socks in black Nike trainers. Transformed into Tumble Dryer Man he raised thousands...
Panya Banjoko
Outside A Parisian Café https://youtu.be/vXRAjgi4KWA Panya Banjoko is a UK based writer and multi-award-winning poet. Her poetry features in numerous anthologies, and exhibitions. Her debut collection, Some Things, (2018) and...
Wendy Clayton
Everything Changed except our Way of Thinking I’m always thinking about how I can find more human beings. Or how I can have a better relationship with a human being. Why you are you. And I am I. And why that should be a problem. It...
Kate Leah Hewett
Web Sorry, but I’ve stopped cleaning the windows. Or I guess I’m not cleaning that one pane of the window that looks in over the living room. I’m leaving it for the spider with the round body like a peanut and the striped legs who has made her web...
Winifred Mok
Wildflowers No one has ever told me to Go back to where you came from Perhaps it’s because I look like I’m just passing through They know I know I don’t look like I belong here I fall into the category of guest The perpetual rambler A forever...
Col Fleetwood
Muckle Flugga Unmoored on an ocean of heather no wind to pluck the strings of the aeolian harp Policed by the unsettling glare of nesting great skuas we tread the narrow path The boardwalk rises and falls under a sky empty and scoured of song To...
Amlanjyoti Goswami
Morning Beach in Gopalpur Those night boats are back. Fishermen string their nets Counting fresh catch. The fish stink. Flies buzz around crabs. They are knocking hammer on wood. I want to take a few steps more To see what’s going on – Find them...
Brian Kirk
Reflex That was the time you caught the mumps and I was half afraid I’d catch it too. Or it was measles and it was me who had it, lying in bed for days reading the bible – children’s version, illustrated – where the devil was all red and had pig’s...
Dawn Sands
Prevention Science Walking home from the lecture on Frankenstein through the November mizzle, small breaths of exhaust sighing in the twilight headlights, particles of wet air commingling. When I look into the branches of the evergreens I can...
Sipke Shaughnessy
Morning mis-en-scène Silence draped across the furniture like fine webbing to catch intruders. Toys left mid-performance, before bedtime’s siren, you marching upstairs. Night made an exhibit of you, a collection of imprints in the mess. I give...
Ken Evans
Octopus I am one Like short of being beautiful. Five hundred more Followers, I’m away to fight culture wars. I Block two for lies Quora does not verify. Counter-factuals are ok, there’s simmering wastelands to make out of vague, but someone sent a shroom...