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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

Holly Bars

      Overblown Rose A glassmaker, breathing down a long, metal rod, blowing a bud to a bulb which grows, told what it’s meant to be, how it’s meant to look. Cold, outside air hits; the shoot splits; little notions spitting out from the stem crystallise...

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Laura Theis

      truth bomb listen I grew up in a suburb where each street was named for a fairy tale in the land of dark forests and grimm siblings and in my mother tongue which brought you rapunzel and rumpelstiltskin no story ends in a twee happily ever after...

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Sufia Hayat

      The List In The Brain   This was a special day, Rabia knew it. She had to wake at least an hour earlier than usual. It was special for her too, because today, Saleema had promised to give her salary along with arrears. She gulped lukewarm...

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Marcello Giovanelli

      Diggers We brought two diggers home, furious black engines, charged and alive, fire eyes with a touch of white. Outside, they clawed the earth, ripped back its skin, made visible its bones, a kingdom of limpet arms, divorced fingers outlining...

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Louise Warren & Jane McAllister

  North Sea Frequency     Louise Warren has published A Child’s Last Picture Book of the Zoo with Cinnamon Press in 2012, and In the scullery with John Keats with Cinnamon Press in 2016. John Dust came out with V.Press in 2019. 'Sometime, in a...

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Anthony Lusardi

      winter sunset— how he says “young” after telling his long age     Anthony Lusardi lives in Rockaway, NJ, where he works with the night crew at a Costco store. His poetry has been published in various prints, including Modern Haiku, The...

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Thea Ayres

      The Farmer’s Daughter As a girl, I would stretch my Easter treats out until my birthday, birthday treats until Halloween Halloween treats until Christmas, Christmas treats until spring, conserving my quarterly reaping as though sweets were root...

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Beth McDonough

      Braefoot point The undertread mush swallows chorused gold dropped from the bow of singing beech. Across the track's split, dark haws bloat, as drumming sticks drip to catch black at the hedge's throat. There must be new ways to be nowhere between...

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George Duggan & Samuel Hart

      me or the devil     Ted Hankey asks, "Who's in charge? Me? Or the Devil?" Chilling and precise, George Duggan takes aim. George Duggan is a writer, producer and radio presenter based in South East London. He is currently a member of the...

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James McDermott

      Virus six    dark    the idiot’s lantern shows me rainbows you branded sick   which made me wear masks   wash hands as if Lady Macbeth breathless   gagging  until I spit it out blue eyes turn to pansies   fag butts  syringes before a ten year talk...

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Elizabeth McGeown

      The Ultimate Painting - Study for Portrait VII (Francis Bacon) A found poem using the text describing Study for Portrait VII on moma.org   Seated on a throne-like gilded chair He endeavoured The image of open mouthed terror is a recurring...

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Sarah Radice

      Being Autistic I am handed a racket and ushered onto court. An avid tennis fan, I am awed by being in the place champions are made. But I realise that, although I’ve grasped most of the rules by watching tournaments on tv - in the safety of my...

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Sarah J Bryson

      Knitting It’s Grandma Gibson who starts me off gently correcting me, praising the stitches pointing out how it’s written on the pattern. Shows me how to cast on. Then Mum’s Mum, Grandma Gasson tries to improve my grip, gets me to wrap the wool...

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Gareth Writer-Davies

      Kenwood Chef I blow dust (an epidermis of powdered sugar) from the plastic body and think of what Mother conjured from spatula whip and grinder (each task with its own attachment) never tiring helping hands that saved time for the hundred and one...

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D. Parker

        D. Parker spends most of her days surrounded by books both at work and at home. In her free time she reads and occasionally lets words form on paper.    

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Lydia Harris

      weather forecast for the funeral   there is a chance of deer grazing of mica rising in stone of knee deep sphagnum of two blank pages there is a chance of roses of lips being sealed of starling clouds yielding of a gurgle in the ditch of snipe...

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Anna Maria Mickiewicz

      The state of war For Ukraine Storm. Broken spruces like matches In the Estonian forest. Spruces or pines? Broken our souls, Those, who did pass across, will not understand… Those, who did not pass across, will not understand As well    ...

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