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

On the Eighth Day of Christmas we bring you Anna Brook, Katherine Forbes Riley, Abigail Ottley

I thought the bingo hall had gone
but it had only lost its sign

On the Seventh Day of Christmas we bring you Penny Blackburn, Fiona Larkin, Ruth Higgins

The night is filled with frost, the start of a snowfall.
The wind is hag-ridden through the forest,
keening between the branches.

On the Sixth Day of Christmas we bring you Maggie Harris, Keith J. Powell, Geraldine Stoneham

Christmas bring back the good ole times – Guyana masqueraders
running through the town, dancing with bugle and drum, down the streets
up the doorstep,

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

On the Fourth Day of Christmas we bring you Adam Strickson, Rebecca Johnson Bista, Pat Edwards

Piero painted her in a week, after his mother died,
her azure gown split open like a ripe plum,
her posh girl fingers resting on the mystery,
all swollen belly and haloed radiance.

Previously featured

Mariah Whelan

      St Ann’s Square Manchester, 23rd May 2017 Because I cannot show you what is at the centre of all this I will lay language up to its edge, walk its edges the way I moved through the back of the crowd too afraid to go in. I had to shade my eyes from...

read more

Marissa Glover

    What Might Have Been There is a small white house high on a green hill just south of Scotland, an office bright with books and a window overlooking Magdalene, and somewhere on a dirt road between endless pastures of strong red fescue, is a man on a...

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

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

Stephen C. Curro

calm river
again, his fishing line
caught on a tree

News

Word & Image

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Filmpoems

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The page you requested could not be found. Try refining your search, or use the navigation above to locate the post.

Featured Poetry/Prose of the Day

On the Eighth Day of Christmas we bring you Anna Brook, Katherine Forbes Riley, Abigail Ottley

I thought the bingo hall had gone
but it had only lost its sign

On the Seventh Day of Christmas we bring you Penny Blackburn, Fiona Larkin, Ruth Higgins

The night is filled with frost, the start of a snowfall.
The wind is hag-ridden through the forest,
keening between the branches.

On the Sixth Day of Christmas we bring you Maggie Harris, Keith J. Powell, Geraldine Stoneham

Christmas bring back the good ole times – Guyana masqueraders
running through the town, dancing with bugle and drum, down the streets
up the doorstep,

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

On the Fourth Day of Christmas we bring you Adam Strickson, Rebecca Johnson Bista, Pat Edwards

Piero painted her in a week, after his mother died,
her azure gown split open like a ripe plum,
her posh girl fingers resting on the mystery,
all swollen belly and haloed radiance.

News

Word & Image

No Results Found

The page you requested could not be found. Try refining your search, or use the navigation above to locate the post.

Filmpoems

No Results Found

The page you requested could not be found. Try refining your search, or use the navigation above to locate the post.

Previously featured

Mariah Whelan

      St Ann’s Square Manchester, 23rd May 2017 Because I cannot show you what is at the centre of all this I will lay language up to its edge, walk its edges the way I moved through the back of the crowd too afraid to go in. I had to shade my eyes from...

read more

Marissa Glover

    What Might Have Been There is a small white house high on a green hill just south of Scotland, an office bright with books and a window overlooking Magdalene, and somewhere on a dirt road between endless pastures of strong red fescue, is a man on a...

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

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

Stephen C. Curro

calm river
again, his fishing line
caught on a tree

Picks of the Month

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Reviews

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