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

Salvatore Difalco

No green swell this evening
will detach me from my hat.

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

Previously featured

Miguel Cullen

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

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

Sarah Raybould

Sarah Raybould

dad would take us sledging on the hills behind our house,

we’d ride the sleeping-slopes of           

/ round-back / giants, 

flushed with fever-thrill and 

when he capsized 

we        / lurched /      

read more

Featured Poetry/Prose of the Day

Salvatore Difalco

No green swell this evening
will detach me from my hat.

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

News

Word & Image

Filmpoems

Sarah Raybould

Sarah Raybould

dad would take us sledging on the hills behind our house,

we’d ride the sleeping-slopes of           

/ round-back / giants, 

flushed with fever-thrill and 

when he capsized 

we        / lurched /      

read more

Previously featured

Miguel Cullen

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

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

In Praise of … Mat Riches on Robin Houghton

In Praise of … Mat Riches on Robin Houghton

Given how much she does for the poetry community—the Planet Podcast series with Peter Kenny, her monthly submissions newsletter, her blog posts, her books on getting published, launching a publisher with other folks, etc., it’s heartwarming to see the attention being placed back on Robin’s writing.

read more