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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
‘Reimagination of Gravity’ by Paul Chuks is July’s Pick of the Month! Read and Hear it Here.
This poem was as unexpected as a story plot! I loved it. This was a poem that mixed physics with philosophy, loss with whimsy and caught voters unawares with its perspective and observation. It is for these reasons and many more that Paul Chuks' beautiful, brilliant,...
S Reeson
Lightbulb Moment only now is it apparent how dishonouring a body is a crime why did this not imprint light up in me before that when in films lynching desecration has a price gives...
Paul Connolly
At Aber Falls he felt nothing water sheeted past grottoes snakes of tributary lazed along below Yr Wyddfa a steam train sauntered by sun-sharp tufts of grass and black tears of earth upward away and all the land beside the train slipped down...
Cindy Botha
the colour of I notice her because she doesn’t have a dog in an afternoon of dog-walkers and she’s wearing a yellow coat it looks like a good coat, I know that much maybe the yellowest coat ever sewn she’s alone, stamping along the river bank...
Alex Josephy
A Vision after Sujata Bhatt the goddess of the library extends in cloth-bound curves along a lettered shelf sometimes her skirts are leather trimmed with gold, hems starred with colophons in other corners, she's Make Do and Mend, relics held...
Anthony Wilson
Moth My first of the season, its legs, tiny head and wings in permanent suspension above an exposition of the Enlightenment. I wasn’t really thinking, I just snapped shut at the right moment and now have it forever skipping for sheer joy. ...
Ben Banyard
Day of the Dead Granny introduced us to her parents, her uncle who moved to South Africa in 1912, the grandfather I never knew and his family. There were hundreds of them, all in period costume, each generation explained who they were, queued like at a...
Lindsay McLeod Espinoza
Notes on Liminal Maps Venus passed over the south node of the Moon today: I don’t know what this means but I do know that dark tons of metal carved a curve slower than belief through dusking light beneath grey under-bellied clouds as she held...
Ilse Pedler
Fortune Teller at the Mediaeval Fayre She offered up her linen bag to me, said pick a shell my lady and I’ll tell your fortune; my fingers skimmed scalloped edges the bold domes of limpets but settled on a smaller more fragile find – the wing of a...
Sue Butler
Of our times and tulips Squirrels have beheaded all my parrot tulips and the supermarket is out of chilli, also tabasco sauce. At the zebra crossing an SUV hurls a diesel glazed puddle into my boots and the rain stings my eyes, breaches the seams...
Cormac Culkeen
A Gift Morning’s cusp of summer in a cobalt breach the sun is a white coin lifted from the sea. Walking, going somewhere from old rifts, like a calliope, spun like fists on a hurricane stare, glassy arraignment loops a centred pain. (This happens...
Maurice Devitt
Genetics Yes, you gave us your elegant hands and capricious smile, but as I make my way to the chiropodist this morning, it’s your feet I’m thinking of and how in your later years they gave you constant trouble. I was still too young for our...
Martin Ferguson
Simulacrum after Jean Baudrillard Pursue the facsimile of the attendance sign; here you must join the line. People in uniform will inform you where to stand, how to sit, when to scream how to follow the rules. When you pass this initial test, you...
Peter Branson
Saving Face Corvus carone, carone, the carrion crow Emerge, from way beyond the pale, one day, clenched feet an amulet about your wrist. You’re eight, like us, you say, toy wilderness we occupy, a monster on your fist, outlandish night. No tinge...
Alice Huntley
Elephantine carved from the tusk of my grandmother I am learning how to remember we follow the old paths traced through the bush that belongs and yet does not belong to us where we are born is where we pass through if I could, I would pull down...
Bel Wallace
My dad is thinking geometrically, eyes closed; he waves his arms to describe how he can transform a circle into a square. Did you know a line has only one dimension? That means it takes up no space. Perhaps trigonometry can save us. You need two...
Sarah Crowe
wig they gave me the cold cap to stop my chemo hair falling out brain freeze for hours a tight band of nausea but still my hair fell out i swept up my gold and silver hairs washed them laid them out to dry in neat lines on an old multicoloured...
Daniel Dean
Man Eating Leeks Watercolour on ivory C. 1824–5 Today I make myself green ivories, Unfix a broken rib and blacken it With carbon, drip on water so it spreads, Mix egg wash watercolour pigments fit To reinforce the scenes. The creatures grow, Bone of my bone,...
Lesley Burt
Shell-like either – a conch found in hot white sand on the shoreline at Sanur Beach a Fibonacci whorl among morning offerings – left with reverence lapped by ripples – while bright boats with sails proclaiming Bintang Beer ferry tourists across the reef to the roll...
Rachael Clyne’s ‘Homeland’ is the June 2025 Pick of the Month! Read and hear it here.
Because it is a beautiful evocation of the land/Palestine's grief 'Homeland' by Rachael Clyne powerfully pinpoints the current horrors of the world, particularly the genocide in Gaza, but also speaks to the general sorrow of displacement and loss of home. It's shape –...