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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

L. Haiman

      O is the Mother Letter   My baby is hungry. Grabs me with both hands. I am an apple, apparently no will. I give in to his teeth and hate it. Him I love! I can’t say No and even when I do I go back On my word. It must be that consent is...

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Francis de Lima

      Portrait   Oh London. U useless city. Map to                                                                         nowhere land. Tight stretch                                                                          open eye. The...

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Miriam Swales

      STEMs When I was 12, I knew the weight of a human head. 8 Heads in a Duffel Bag (a bit of dark comedy). It grew from there. The curiosity. The calculations. But, perhaps, that’s not true. 4 years before that, The Magic School Bus taught me the...

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Alison Pritchard

      Broad-blotch Drill (a.k.a. Orange-spot Daisy Moth) By what rough science were you given this migraine of a name, which starts as a spillage on the workshop floor and ends so gratingly?     Alison Pritchard is from Derbyshire and mostly...

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Matt Gilbert

      A Rat Decides to Change its Place   Disgust springs up from the guts to meet a sprinting lump of furry muscle. Only to be ambushed by a brilliance of nose, a skittering perfection of racing claws, Sleek brown legs, pumping from the stewed-tea...

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Kathleen Bryson

I Am the Dreaming Herpetogaster Chimera : Painting by Kathleen Bryson   I Am the Dreaming Herpetogaster Chimera I am the dreaming herpetogaster chimera and I am part-and-parcel of the impossible animals project. My cherry-blossoming phallic self obviously dubbed...

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Scott Lilley

      Doppelgänger I’ve seen dozens of you about the Fylde, face all vape, fatigue, some wild sense of beard, black hair to border it all. Oiled up Kieran, out cold in the ring; pensive Kieran, pacing the promenade; I’ll have spent my own self in this...

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Rich Yates

      The Bird The bird crept up on him, threw its voice into an empty tree, he started to notice the aliveness of things, wondered how he had slept through his adult life without ever having inhabited a bush. The bird followed him into a glade,...

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Annie Kissack

      Girl Awaits the Psychic Investigators They’re late. The table is laid with a clean cloth, all normal and neat. Our visitors, city men, may find it hard to navigate the path but we can wait. They hope to gather evidence of a haunting; whether he’ll...

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Jim Murdoch

      Love is… …inconvenient. Love is untidy. Love is relentless, ruthless and rapacious. Done well, it's hilarious, playful and redemptive – Gina Barreca (for Carrie) We don’t decide who we love. Who we hate, yes, who we’re jealous of, but never who we...

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Alex Stolis

          Alex Stolis has had poems published in numerous journals. His chapbook, Postcards from the Knife-Thrower's Wife, was released by Louisiana Literature Press in 2024, RIP Winston Smith from Alien Buddha Press 2024, and The Hum of...

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Ashia Mirza

      Heartbust: (Plato’s Allegory of the Cave) Someone is taking a photo at a wedding of their baby at a celebration. There’s a roar of a truck the hiss of a missile the boom of a dumb bomb. The prodigal sun casts shadows in your cave of someone taking...

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Phil Vernon

      Something (almost) understood Firle Beacon, South Downs These hills that look towards both weald and waves hold – in their homesteads, fenced and open land, trackways and contours – all that’s happened here, but hide their mysteries in riddles:...

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Sandra Noel

    Sandra Noel is from Jersey, Channel Islands. Her work appears online and in print. Her debut collection is Into The Under  (2024) and she is part of Linger  first in a three-poet series (2025), both published by Yaffle Press.

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Mike Duggan

      The Stirrups Of Genghis Khan   A decapitated road sign Spears the yellow verge, Meaningless as a symbol Of progress. A vain strut. The bus driver’s hands are folded As the stop approaches. From the fields, An algorithm of hooves enters the ears Of...

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Sue Spiers

      Eels Anguilla anguilla I wrote a metaphor using eel for blue-light reflections in water on a flooded motorway and mentioned glittering scales. My writing group said skin which didn’t have the same feel for an ambulance’s race seen through...

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Oenone Thomas

      Because I don’t know any other way I replace my left hand with a hook, my feet with jackhammers, both my eyes with spangled mirror balls. I raise my right hand, and in its palm, I roll another’s choice of dice. I stud my scalp with stars, stripe...

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Adele Evershed

      Some Things My Mother Forgot to Teach Me (Before She Died) A while ago I saw this prompt on Instagram though I added ‘before she died’ because mine did—long before anyway, I made a list How to think of rejection as a yellow brick one I could toss...

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