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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
Bern Butler
First Snow When snow fell at night, it was her future decided in hushed tones outside the room where she slept, so in the morning when she rose her world had been swapped, swivelled like a set in a play, permitting her (as she stepped out) to...
Live zoom readings from Malika Booker, Jill Abram and Fahad Al-Amoudi
Please join us on zoom for live readings from Malika Booker, Jill Abram and Fahad Al-Amoudi on Sunday 7th March at 4pm GMT This is part of our monthly ‘Live from the Butchery’ series, hosted by Helen Ivory and Martin Figura from their home (an old CoOp...
The Boxer by Tom Stockley
(content warning for mental illness) the boxer by Tom Stockley three months ago, i was stood here wishing more than anything to fall into the water, to stop feeling so much pain for just existing three months later, i walked past saw a man get off his bike, stand...
Helen Grant
Oranges On a dark Friday, in the early night I walked past an orange on the pavement by a parked ambulance, in a setback carpark, under faltering streetlights and hefty air. No stars were shining but this orange seemed to do so, and for a fleeting moment...
Rob A. Mackenzie
Workshop for Shy Self-Promoters Although I have never been on the pushy side of unassertive, what precedent in tactical avoidance I’ve established for shy self-promoters!: a workshop on low-visibility preening in Ray Bans and balaclavas by Inspirational...
William Stephenson
The Human Market Animals gather beneath a plasma screen in the square: a colony of lemurs with calculators in their paws, lizards with phones that twitter and purr. How did you get here, naked, bruised, unshaven? An owl scratches numbers into your...
Claire Walker
Emily Little love, I see your face, so like your grandfather’s. There is the obvious - his July-lion’s mane tamed to your September copper. But me in the middle, part him, part you, I was always too distracted by laundry, homework, things that keep a...
Poems from Priya Subberwal, Nwuguru Chidiebere Sullivan and Jenny Mitchell are IS&T’s Submissions for the 2021 Forward Prize for Best Single Poem.
Each year, we select our three submissions for the Forward Prize for Best Single Poem from those winning and shortlisted poems from our Pick of the Month series that remain eligible. This year our choices are 'Vanishing Mother' by Jenny Mitchell, Priya Subberwal's...
John Greening
1901: The Interpretation of Owls (Four owls on a branch, and one on its own, all smoking long churchwarden clay pipes, and listening to the music of a songbird in front of a giant moon – like five patients waiting for wise Dr Freud.) The First...
Rebecca Lowe reviews ‘The Ear of Eternity’ by Xavier Panades I Blas
Xavier Panades i Blas, a Catalan-born poet now living in Wales, is passionate about two things: The first is his Catalan language and culture. The second is his writing, which comes from deep within the heart. His live poetry performances are vivid,...
ONCE by Catherine Gander
ONCE sunlight splashed like wine across our table where you knelt at work on crayon glyphs announcing your creations two by two Spiral! Spiral! Words turning to songbirds in your mouth dancing helix to my ear one sparrow then a second lifting in defiance of the arrow...
Carolyn Oulton
Vaccination Day At the surgery my mother doesn’t want to wait in the car, keeps opening the door. It’s deadly out there, and all I can think is she’s going to say Yoohoo! It’s Mrs … yoohoo! No one is actually warm enough. Mr Poole never does turn...
Carla Scarano D’Antonio
A safe den When my girlfriends come we delineate our territories. I build a fence with a cradle, two chairs and a stool, a cut-out space that protects and defines against trespassing. Knitted blankets cover my baby dolls, rags are my curtains. I arrange...
Nora Blascsok
Something Boy, I see you, turn up day after day, crouch by the pond, assortment of snacks, hold out a hand or stand still as air. Trackies, oversized tee, slowly scattering feed, pigeons land on shoulders that carry the world, there’s room for a thing...
Lucia Sellars
moment Once upon a teacup, I woke up. The eyelids yawned and reality percolated down. This is not how rain starts, this is not how the world keeps on its axis. I had a hat to cover my sinful thoughts, and a mouth, to zip them in. My hands...
Philip Dunkerley
Flying Away I sit watching the green line on the screen, your flight moving relentlessly onwards, away from me. Everything feels hollow. So many people here didn’t want you to go. What have we done to the world, how did we shrink it to allow us to...
Paul Connolly
Winter Thorn Before the bend he remembers what he usually sees at the bend even in mist-less and anemic days the thorn’s bespoke glow, a hazed corona of frozen smoke its branchlets weave and hold working the air with web, a murk his rallentando steps of...
Owen Gallagher
The Neglected Partner Love the way your bones keep you upright. your skin a raincoat. Don’t neglect the beauty of all those organs working ceaselessly. Let your body and mind flirt, have a constant honeymoon, swear vows regularly. Praise the...
Dick Jones
In the Days Before they Came What interests me so much more than those pages of scripture foxed with turning is his choosing of a blue gown over a white; his weighing of two stones in either hand, the one mottled like a perfect moon, the other...
Colin Bancroft
Looking out on the Menai Strait The viewpoint is deserted. The sky a pastel chart. Beneath the bridge the Swillies gargle, Fish traps bob like U-boats. The glaciers are gone but the air is deathly still. Text messages haunt like Ouija. This age has...