Ink Sweat & Tears is a UK based webzine which publishes and reviews poetry, prose, prose-poetry, word & image pieces and everything in between. Our tastes are eclectic and magpie-like and we aim to publish something new every day.

We try to keep waiting-time short, but because of increased submissions, the current waiting time between submission and publication is around twelve weeks.

If you have come here looking for more information on our ‘Uprising & Resistance’ Project in conjunction with Spread the Word and Black Beyond Data, please go here.

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Featured Poetry/Prose of the Day

Annah Atane

That night,
the stars had slept. The wind
silent as something dying.

Jake Roberts

hamlet asked it to the dark night sea
where do waters end and i begin 

Miguel Cullen

The pelican is so dovey, with her funny crème anglaise feathers with pink and her split-ended  crest and  mouth.

T N Kennedy

inside the apiary it is always spring
human beings and honey bees cohabiting

Kate Vanhinsbergh

We Should Probably Get Up Now

but, outside, the world has paused:
the wind has put down its loneliness

Previously featured

Amirah Al Wassif

Beneath my armpit lives a Sinbad the size of a thumb.
His imagination feeds through an umbilical cord tied to my womb.
Now and then, people hear him speaking through a giant microphone—
Singing,
Cracking jokes,

read more

Mark Smith

In the portacabin that morning, men smoked
and looked at last week’s paper again.
There was no water to fill the urn.
The first job – to get connected

read more

Recent Prose

Jo Bardsley

The little piece of newspaper, crisp and dark with age, flutters out of the gritty space between the fridge and the cabinet. I am cleaning the house while my wife is at school and at first I don’t understand.

Paul Goodman

They approach in hungry morning light, treading the path to the ridge and the row of giant’s teeth grown crooked with the ages

Neil Weiner

Chad, an aspiring author, sank into his easy chair and drifted into a
reverie.

Stephanie Aspin on ‘Why Words Help’ for Mental Health Awareness Week

Writing is both a way of making life more liveable and of making ourselves more whole. Words have a being-ness: when we write poetry, we tap into a network of resonances.

Recent Haiku

Debbie Strange

midnight sun
a polar bear’s breath
catches fire

Debbie Strange

winterberry
the first holiday
alone

On the Fifth Day of Christmas we bring you John Greening, Finola Scott, Philip Dunkerley

today, Christmas Eve,
my granddaughter visiting
her bright eyes – her faith

Rhonda Melanson

The magic of growing things, its tangible beauty, I did not understand.

Chen-ou Liu

this fresh morning
so much like the others …
yet starlings shape-shift

News

Word & Image

Filmpoems

Katie Beswick

Katie Beswick

Asemic (adjective): using lines and symbols that look like writing, but do not have any meaning.

read more

Featured Poetry/Prose of the Day

Annah Atane

That night,
the stars had slept. The wind
silent as something dying.

Jake Roberts

hamlet asked it to the dark night sea
where do waters end and i begin 

Miguel Cullen

The pelican is so dovey, with her funny crème anglaise feathers with pink and her split-ended  crest and  mouth.

T N Kennedy

inside the apiary it is always spring
human beings and honey bees cohabiting

Kate Vanhinsbergh

We Should Probably Get Up Now

but, outside, the world has paused:
the wind has put down its loneliness

News

Word & Image

Filmpoems

Katie Beswick

Katie Beswick

Asemic (adjective): using lines and symbols that look like writing, but do not have any meaning.

read more

Previously featured

Amirah Al Wassif

Beneath my armpit lives a Sinbad the size of a thumb.
His imagination feeds through an umbilical cord tied to my womb.
Now and then, people hear him speaking through a giant microphone—
Singing,
Cracking jokes,

read more

Mark Smith

In the portacabin that morning, men smoked
and looked at last week’s paper again.
There was no water to fill the urn.
The first job – to get connected

read more

Recent Prose

Jo Bardsley

The little piece of newspaper, crisp and dark with age, flutters out of the gritty space between the fridge and the cabinet. I am cleaning the house while my wife is at school and at first I don’t understand.

Paul Goodman

They approach in hungry morning light, treading the path to the ridge and the row of giant’s teeth grown crooked with the ages

Neil Weiner

Chad, an aspiring author, sank into his easy chair and drifted into a
reverie.

Stephanie Aspin on ‘Why Words Help’ for Mental Health Awareness Week

Writing is both a way of making life more liveable and of making ourselves more whole. Words have a being-ness: when we write poetry, we tap into a network of resonances.

Recent Haiku

Debbie Strange

midnight sun
a polar bear’s breath
catches fire

Debbie Strange

winterberry
the first holiday
alone

On the Fifth Day of Christmas we bring you John Greening, Finola Scott, Philip Dunkerley

today, Christmas Eve,
my granddaughter visiting
her bright eyes – her faith

Rhonda Melanson

The magic of growing things, its tangible beauty, I did not understand.

Chen-ou Liu

this fresh morning
so much like the others …
yet starlings shape-shift

Picks of the Month

Reviews