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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
R.G. Jodah
The View From the Ambulance is limited, by design. Strapped securely the dislocation, the shabby franchise- ification of high street, signage blinking by, the discomfort: this wasn't here before – is dulled. Everything looks old already, except...
Rachel J Fenton
Gannets I drive from your apartment to pick up a friend of a friend from the train station, take them to Muriwai to see the gannets. It is a warm day but there’s a bite in the air. My passenger is dressed for winter. She removes her seatbelt on...
Patrick Deeley
Homing Pigeon From the high window ledge of the house next door, he looks down into our kitchen. Two days since he landed, and whether we dance to the radio or open a newspaper, whether we chatter about nothing or argue over whose turn to cook,...
Anna Govier
Next To You A cold, violet light at end of day; this season is ragged with wonders. A fine, black net of starless sky, the flight of geese, the song of the lapsing fire. The way you move, when I am next to you, you stranger in my loved- one’s...
Diane Mulholland
The Meeting A sprawling arena of hard clay, cut through on one side by the creek and spread with thistles. And I, alone at the centre of it. Then he’s there. Six feet of polished earth-brown, flat venom head swaying like a grass stem. We freeze,...
A C Clarke
A Reckoning Coming at the end of a year, a decade, ten years of trading prevarication, all prospects closing off as reality closes in, with half the globe on fire, the rest in floods, how can we reckon up accounts? We're overdrawn, our home...
Sarah J Bryson
A tour of Dachau concentration camp Our tour guide knows all this – it is embedded in him it seems. I watch his face, when he’s asked a question. I see his pause, as if he is checking himself for accuracy before speaking. I notice how he wears the...
Ian Green
Consequences of proper litter disposal You barely notice the ubiquitous white and black of a gull passing overhead. You stumble on. One pint too many, tonight; four’s fine, but after five you feel it. You burp, delicately. On a bin ahead another...
Vote! Vote! Vote! For your February 2020 Pick of the Month
The only thing that unites our shortlist for February 2020's shortlist for Pick of the Month is how fine these poems are. There are sweet memories (Attracta Fahy's Dinner in the Fields) and less warm experiences – 'Some things never change' from Maurice Devitt. Chris...
Sarah James/Leavesley
International Swimming Pool Rules 1. No ducking, bombing or diving, unless on command from the Pentagon. 2. Lifeguards are there to guard. Please obey their orders respectfully and promptly. The guns are (mostly) only there for show. 3. Maximum...
Kate Garrett on International Women’s Day
A few things cunning women do “…the virtue of word, herb, & stone: which is used by unlawful charms, without natural causes.” – King James VI & I, Daemonologie Accessorise dirt-scuffed jeans with bramble-stain lips – three hares away from...
Jo Bratten
In the shower with Gerard Manley Hopkins Bless me father for I have sinned again Rejoice in soapy foam-fleece fountain furled For I have lied and cursed and fucked with men Flashing quenching sing-shower curtain-curled In hurting self and friend...
Sanjeev Sethi
A Factory of Feelings Your biog is your own, wash it with as many adjectives. Entitlement and empathy are opposites. Dissimulation is elementary to past lovers, like dissemble to ex bosses. Facebook and Twitter are placeboes for amour proper....
Kitty Coles
The moon is a cannibal: she consumes her own body. Flat-footed in her fatness, she sweats and lumbers, ashamed, in the pure of night, of her vast heft. She nibbles her flesh: the taste is oily, repellant, but she swallows it down: the gulps rise...
Lucy Dixcart
Princess Alexandra and the Glass Piano I was a child when I swallowed the piano. My jaw unhinged and down it slid: keys, strings, pins. A dream, I imagined, until a crunch punctuated my footsteps and hammers chinked holes in my thoughts. Rules to...
Steph Morris
Three halves Help yourselves, Alex says, places chocolate on the table, and opens the wrapper, silver wings on all four sides. Three of them, at one end of the table. Charlie cracks a chunk free, one whole end of the bar at a jaunty angle, and...
Janet Rogerson
Ghost I was outside in the square dull of garden when I realised I couldn't draw a ghost. The page waited patiently like the future and my eye held what was supposed to fill it. The narrow path which didn't deserve its name was an appropriate...
Poems from Dipo Baruwa-Etti, Helen Calcutt and Abegail Morley are the IS&T Entries for the 2020 Forward Prize for Best Single Poem.
Do please read these fine poems below, go to http://inksweatandtears.co.uk/?cat=118 or click on '2020 Forward Prizes for Poetry Entries' in the categories list to your right. Good luck to all!
UEA Poetry MA Scholars Memoona Zahid and Konstantin Rega
In 2011, IS&T publisher Kate Birch established the The Ink Sweat & Tears Poetry Writing Scholarship (MA) at the University of East Anglia (UEA); Konstantin Nicholas Rega is its ninth recipient. Memoona Zahid is the second student to be awarded The Birch Family...
Lydia Harris
Eliza Traill All her names The hare. A long way from blue. What is the third thing? Twelve snow buntings in a shadow house. What she sees A large stone lintel. A hollow enclosed in a curved wall. Small white bones. A now completed circle. The...