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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
Gwen Sayers
Her Funeral Clouds spit on the coffin, wring oily rags, splash a woman, her violin cased in sunken purple. I wade with the others through the mud clench, she’s beyond now, until the weight of her. My eyes hide behind dark. Damp pallbearers lower...
Chris Hardy on Quentin Cowdry
CLOSE -UP Quentin Cowdry Hedgehog Poetry Press 2025 ISBN 978-1-916830-47-9 This pamphlet of twenty-two poems won a Hedgehog Press first pamphlet competition in 2023. The poems are carefully structured in regular stanzas, with well-paced, rhythmical lines and...
Dave Wynne-Jones
Sonnet And did she break your heart? A woman asks, perhaps imagining A fallen chalice scattering Fragments about the tiles, only discovered Days later in corners underfoot. But there was no suddenness More a growing sense of doom A shrivelling of...
Simon Maddrell
Bringing Pilates to Attention Four years in Knockaloe was a living inspiration for inventor Joseph Pilates. His self-contained exercise in mental- physical health spawned a method which he called Contrology — corrective drills grown within the...
Tom Kelly
Save Me At thirteen I am competing with James Joyce, encouraging pain, at the very least discomfort. See me fervently praying, waiting to receive the Communion host. My knees more than ache, then burn, I bless the wooden pew causing this...
Nick McGaughey
Slow Worm And here you are slid from the rain under my door, “s” -ing along the cool checks in the hallway. I’ve had slugs silvering the skirting, a hissing squirrel cornered by the stove, even a mouse that made his den next to the cat food… but...
Poetry from UEA MA Scholars 2024/2025: Grace Phillips and On Zi Rui
Grace Phillips is the 14th student to be awarded the University of East Anglia’s Ink Sweat & Tears Poetry Writing Scholarship (MA). This was established by IS&T publisher Kate Birch in 2011 and followed seven years later by the Birch Family Scholarship, set up...
Cath Holland
THE DAY WE GOT THE NEWS Let’s say we have that afternoon again. Itchy for autumn. Me in pale orange lipstick and you your best tweed with leather buttons, facts mouthed at us in a room with no room to move. We hold onto thin plastic see-through cups of...
Jade Prince
Jade Prince hails from Essex but currently resides in Leeds. She has been published in PEN Transmissions and Poetry & Audience amongst many others, and currently holds a place with The Writing Squad.
Esha Volvoikar
Ripening The earth cracks and we are left with the same shared moon. She peers through my lattice window and hides behind your city’s smoke. Have you ever caught her covertly climbing the ladder, the hoards below are distracted watching the...
Violeta Zlatareva
Money for Candles The neighbor is a devout woman. She bakes bread and lights candles, scolds the noisy children of others, and dresses in modest clothes. Everyone in the building fears her. They believe she can see through skin. Let someone lie or even...
Robin Vaughan-Williams
Does anybody want any money? I've got all this money lying around. Have you got anything you can do with it? I asked Josie but she doesn't want it. Klio says the extension is already paid for. Geoff has a job and wants to pay his way. Craig says...
Rizwan Akhtar
Love What fell between an abrupt shower and a sky’s attitude was your memory. In the small presence of wind under a tree, I stopped renovating your image, after the silence ploughed over, the days we spent in front of each other, agreeing that the...
Jeff Gallagher
Ramadan Colleagues munching bap and burger thought Ramadan was that juicy winger, his scorching pace soon snaffled up by City. Giving stuff up, they say, is murder - and two weeks into Lent they bring a secret snack to work through sheer...
Sue Moules
BLACKBIRD IN THE EARLY MORNING Sings at the top of the bare-branched tree an aubade to morning welcomes the light, early spring, season of nest-making. This melody is not for me but to attract a mate. I walk the dog under the dulcet notes and...
Andrew Tucker Leavis
Poseidon at the Spill as the tanker tore its throat against the shallow spine, as the village unravelled when the sea took fire; in a hi-vis flower of diesel light, he rose. finding his tongue tang-stained with oil he yanked his ankle-chain to its...
Patricia Minson
Wood Anemone Between the trees dust shifts, light fractures like a prism. A cathedral silence greens the air. The soil smells of damp books. I see them — paper-thin, spreading on the dark floor of the wood. Still as a shut door. Nothing...
In Praise of … Mat Riches on Robin Houghton
Given how much she does for the poetry community—the Planet Podcast series with Peter Kenny, her monthly submissions newsletter, her blog posts, her books on getting published, launching a publisher with other folks, etc., it’s heartwarming to see the attention being...
B. Anne Adriaens
Fancy etymology for a vacant lot The French term terrain vague enfolds a plot of land I thought at first was vague, undefined and malleable. As a noun, this vague echoes on the edge of its meaning: perhaps a patch of earth evoking a wave, capable...
John Bartlett
sclerenchyma mornings I wake wary of abundance wondering why I’m still here and then I recall all the green leaves with their hiding birds and the slow triumph of ripening pods here lily stalks move like living things for this is what they are...