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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
Zoom Live From the Butchery Reading, with Raymond Antrobus, Carole Bromley and Catherine Woodward
Please join us on zoom for live readings from Carole Bromely, Raymond Antrobus and Catherine Woodward on Sunday 5th September at 4pm GMT. This is part of our monthly award-winning ‘Live from the Butchery’ series, hosted by Helen Ivory and Martin Figura from...
Robert Hirschfield
Water & Mud The water in its lonely bowl beneath your bed, drawn from where? You were drawn from the mud in January. From the mud. Robert Hirschfield is a New York-based poet and writer about poetry. He has been widely...
Anne Symons
Building a fire My mother is kneeling by the hearth tearing strips from the West Briton rolling them round her fingers. I see the Penroses had their Silver Wedding. She lays the twisted paper criss-cross in the grate, newspaper ink smudges her...
Kathleen Strafford
Childhatcheries Even I keep secrets shhh I’m in love with fingers caressing my insides feeling coils fiddling with my fan I live by touch by brink a contract between love grief & up to elbows nurses in soapy rubber gloves...
A Poem from Desree, IS&T’s New Editing Intern
Rum Sometimes, white rum is filtered to eradicate colours that would affect its white tint. Dark rum, however, is aged in charred barrels reacting to the characteristics of its environment. As a result, it is strong and usually shot. Desree is the third...
Chloe Balcomb
My Great Great Grandfather was a shipwrecked Swedish sailor, with sea legs and river hands, forearms like binding strakes. A stanchion of a man, he worked the waters of the bustling Thames, was ship’s labourer then Lighterman, loading cargo and...
Too Young Too Loud Too Different, an anthology by the writers of Malika’s Poetry Kitchen
Too Young Too Loud Too Different edited by Maisie Lawrence and Rishi Dastidar ISBN 978-1-4721-5506-1 Few collectives have had a profound impact on the contemporary poetry landscape in recent years than Malika’s Poetry Kitchen. And this anthology, edited...
Salvatore Difalco
TALENTS The plaster statue of the benefactor moved, albeit slightly. The tilt of the head slightly altered its angle. Leaning more left. Or perhaps more right. Bereft of patience, I thought I could study it no longer, even should it move again,...
Charlotte Ansell
Cece She brings with her an apple as a shield, after every bite she wobbles her tooth, wonders if the next huge bite will be enough. She tells me she is thinking of a giraffe, the giraffe she is certain the tooth fairy will bring. She picks the...
David Ralph Lewis
Ceasefire We lounge in singed hotels seeking salvation in burnt pillowcases, mini bars filled with bullet cases. We swig gems down with vodka, rubies cutting our throats to remind us we are alive, somehow. So much for not eating our gold horde....
Helen Grant
While on Sickness Benefits I sit by a river in Pembrokeshire which is darker (so brown and foul yet, cold-cosy, like childhood dreams) than today’s dark discussion: riverside weekly venting, becoming routine for me and a friend, during our...
Konstandinos Mahoney
Peace Pipe Now! she goes. He sucks hard, the bowl seethes, smoke shoots up the stem, down his throat, fills his lungs. He tries hard to hold it in, coughs, chokes it out in racking spasms. She laughs. What’s he like? He hopes this will bring them...
Stephen Kingsnorth
Release This prisoner, isolation wing, wounded, clipped, in stutter nest, unfettered need, communicate, beyond the clamp, a grind of teeth, stumped, just left, ignored, but there. Light all night, the clock reset, sidereal, side-tracked from norm,...
Jakob Angerer
Places Other People Live Orange hilltops in nice winters glimpsed through wet windows on quiet mornings with safe people tiny lights glint at night, illuminate a friendly darkness where people come home in nice cars. Rainy days spent indoors or...
The Meaning of Roundling by C Albert
The Meaning of Roundling With the edges of our eyes, we catch glimpses of roundlings peeking through windows. Gentle creatures, ready to bolt, fragile with dark traumas passed onto them. Best not to talk in x,y,z. A whisper, “why didn’t you” or “you...
Marta Wolny
Can’t Name Trees Either Plastic spoons, no bellies to show for, scooping the cream left unswallowed, strew the pavement like bird food. Who’s to say it’s unnatural? Street parties are well straddled heaving from recycling bins, We were thrown, we...
Julie Stevens
Zip Wire to Freedom (after Simon Armitage) I write in praise of air. It was just me clothed in a translucent glide, dressed as a thunderbolt, blurry-eyed holding the sky in my hair. To the top in shocking daylight, then helped to lie face down. I...
Sarah L Dixon
To Frank, on going to High School Be bold and push open doors. Embrace the subjects that thrill you. Maths. Drama. Art. Endure those you hate and do them well. History. Literacy. Dance. Life is about balance. Find your tribe. The weird ones. The...
Louisa Campbell
Life Skills Module 3 1.1. Often misunderstood: Stem cell research Children Trigonometry Joy Choose two. Compare and contrast. 1.2. In autumn, trees weep their leaves, ready to bud again in spring. Does this make you sad, or happy? 1.3. Your...
In the Queue in the Waitrose Cafe, I Meet My Love by Liz Lefroy and Darren Mason
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vm2ZVWjyWGk In the Queue in the Waitrose Cafe, I Meet My Love The man next to me in the queue is gorgeous. It starts with him telling me I’ve dropped my pen and I pick it up, though it’s not mine. I’m almost...