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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

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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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,...

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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...

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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....

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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...

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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...

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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,...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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