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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
Joseph Ajilore
THE CHILD BECOMES A PARENT She comes bearing gifts and apologies Giving love out of guilt From my days as an embryo, I knew her Whispers in my phone past bedtime Climbing through the window past curfews Teenage angst and my insecurity shows 'I hate you,...
Paul Fenn
Lifesaving practice We make a strange creature, him and I. Father and son, endlessly enacting death and resurrection in the local pool. Locked in an awkward embrace, my back forever to his front. My heart balancing on his heart; smooth wet pebble...
Daniel Sluman
morphine the first time i drank morphine a weight slid over my heart & the whole summer collapsed under me my head packed with ice phone overflowing with garbled texts & all because of this vertebra a firecracker in a...
Mike Farren
Out nights were forest with foliage too dense to let in the light of moon and stars – and days were savannah prairie steppe – glory and danger in strangeness of mountain and sea and river – survival was tracking the flock to the watering hole...
Daniel Richardson
A Talkative Saint who lived in a hedge He was caught up in what he did and he couldn’t do enough of it and he did it all the time. He would talk about it to anyone even if they told him they couldn’t understand a word of it and didn’t want to...
Honey Baxter
I’m crying in a bar when a wise old cowboy turns to me and says If you found love now, you’d run it right into the ground. I bet you sit around swallowing up everybody else’s light, wondering why you never end up being anything but midnight. I...
B. Anne Adriaens
The unloved pipes It’s not rats (there are no rats); it’s the goddam plumbing cobbled together by some inept predecessor. Knocking whenever the heating comes on, clanging whenever the shower’s turned on, clicking whenever hot water rushes through...
Edmund Prestwich
Lockdown Release Suddenly summer. Parakeets whirled above, too fast for more than a glimpse of jade green glitter, an after-echo of cries Flowers leaned on walls, bright lips breathed fragrant calls the insects answered, wings a glinting blur,...
Claire Booker reviews ‘These Mothers of Gods’ by Rachel Bower
Spoiler alert! This is a seriously good book, but it pulls no punches about the nuts and bolts of motherhood. No quaint, cooing here. Instead, there’s blood and milk; love and its shadow; the joys and the sheer brain-boiling frustrations of...
Samo Kreutz
Haiku morning fog still recognizable children's laughter * winter begins no place in my notebook for revised resolutions * first snow her hair shines in a new colour Samo Kreutz lives in Ljubljana, Slovenia. Besides haiku (which he...
Clare Wigzell
What Matters Barbara Hepworth on politics After a long time with persistent, small movements, each one following the effects of the last, the shape becomes clearer, large chunks fall away, air is let into stone. Further in, planes flatten out,...
Marcelo Coelho
Hauntings 1 After the funeral, the coughs continued. 2 Care homes regain life at night. 3 Wait. The morgue will reopen soon. 4 They came asking for more starch. 5 For them, lockdown has just begun. 6 He came back. “Forgot the mask”. 7 Sorry for...
Live Zoom reading with Pascale Petit, Sudeep Sen and Rosie Gardner
Please join us on zoom for live readings from Pascale Petit, Sudeep Sen and Rosie Gardner on Sunday 14th November at 4pm BST. This is part of our monthly award-winning ‘Live from the Butchery’ series, hosted by Helen Ivory and Martin Figura from their home...
Andrew Williams
Rehoboth Bay after Jane Kenyon I was walking on the dock— the kind of activity I go out of town to do— where waterfowl float below with their young. My wife and I fell behind the laughter barreling toward the shore end and at that moment, we heard...
Jenny Hockey
Snow Fall Post operatively he is unable to drive when suddenly snow fills the street. It’s only ten minutes to walk back home. ‘Not in these shoes,’ he says, ‘not in this jacket.’ Why I agree I don’t know for the snow makes a toy of the wheel in...
Laura McKee
the hard animal of her body the woman next to me shows me her bones she delves into her bag and pulls them out to show me the strongest and how it was broken you know like a tree she says when they cut it like this and she lifts her hand at the...
Trelawney
Religious Tack When you turned to God I turned away and in some sort of protest, a double-edged olive branch, I started a collection. Small at first: statues from catholic shrines, rude pewter pilgrims’ badges light-up Madonnas. A dome of the rock...
Molly Wolfe
Daddy’s Issues It’s Monday and screwed-up bits of paper hit her like rocks and bruise her inside and her wine (he said was his) paints the walls and burns like acid, droplets streaming ravines down her cheeks and a demon screams get out of my...
Geoff Sawers
Cage the ocean in a room sloshing against the walls a bee in your closed fist feel the fury of her tiny heart a mouth in a cage forced to speak a second language a rope of sand spun on a wide bleak strand press your ear to the cold wet ground hear...
Rosie Miles after Gillian Lever
Shine After Gillian Lever “What is orange? Why, an orange, Just an orange!” -- Christina Rossetti, from Sing-Song (1873) Sweet naranja, common, in-your-face cadmium, chrome, atomic tangerine. # FF7F00: traffic cone of all colours warning...