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

Kate Hendry

So what if there’s a dead patch.
Remember the havoc
unfettered fire makes –

Claire Simpson

If I’d known it was him I wouldn’t have smiled so warmly. But he looked like any other middle-aged man taking a Sunday stroll. It’s funny what time can erase.

Christtie Jay

My Lord, let the record show
she remembered everyone else
before this. If you must, take her
in teaspoons

May Grier

I wasn’t to know
that it was a three-tusked
beast; that there was not one,
not two, but three
that grew the seed of me.

Daniel Hill

On her first day home, she took
to plucking the sky with tweezers—
latched on to clouds and waited

Previously featured

May Grier

I wasn’t to know
that it was a three-tusked
beast; that there was not one,
not two, but three
that grew the seed of me.

read more

Recent Prose

Layla Sabourian

We were happy people once. Not naïve, just animated, social, alive. We gathered constantly. We danced at weddings, at birthdays, at no occasion at all.

Joel Shelley

Dr Summers presses the ignition and the machine whirs to life.

Surmaya Talyarkhan

I first heard of aphantasia in a writing workshop – a poet told us she didn’t see visual images in her head. I had always thought everyone didn’t.

Louella Lester

When Mom flew off with the Canada geese you made me promise that we would never leave one another.

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.

Recent Haiku

Wayne F. Burke

faces on a school bus:
petals of flowers
unopened

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.

News

Word & Image

Oormila Vijayakrishnan Prahlad

Oormila Vijayakrishnan Prahlad

I am born of the folk of the tropical coasts,
salt-rimmed hands my inheritance. I trace 

the vestiges of webs between my fingers—
folds printed with the pearlescent stripes

read more

Filmpoems

Erin Coppin and Dr Jo Scott

Erin Coppin and Dr Jo Scott

British Columbia, Canada, 2021: We are surviving the vagaries of climate change

1. Heat dome: I’ve had to water my plants two times a day so they don’t die.
2. Five hundred and ninety-five people died as a direct result of extreme heat.

read more

Featured Poetry/Prose of the Day

Kate Hendry

So what if there’s a dead patch.
Remember the havoc
unfettered fire makes –

Claire Simpson

If I’d known it was him I wouldn’t have smiled so warmly. But he looked like any other middle-aged man taking a Sunday stroll. It’s funny what time can erase.

Christtie Jay

My Lord, let the record show
she remembered everyone else
before this. If you must, take her
in teaspoons

May Grier

I wasn’t to know
that it was a three-tusked
beast; that there was not one,
not two, but three
that grew the seed of me.

Daniel Hill

On her first day home, she took
to plucking the sky with tweezers—
latched on to clouds and waited

News

Word & Image

Oormila Vijayakrishnan Prahlad

Oormila Vijayakrishnan Prahlad

I am born of the folk of the tropical coasts,
salt-rimmed hands my inheritance. I trace 

the vestiges of webs between my fingers—
folds printed with the pearlescent stripes

read more

Filmpoems

Erin Coppin and Dr Jo Scott

Erin Coppin and Dr Jo Scott

British Columbia, Canada, 2021: We are surviving the vagaries of climate change

1. Heat dome: I’ve had to water my plants two times a day so they don’t die.
2. Five hundred and ninety-five people died as a direct result of extreme heat.

read more

Previously featured

May Grier

I wasn’t to know
that it was a three-tusked
beast; that there was not one,
not two, but three
that grew the seed of me.

read more

Recent Prose

Layla Sabourian

We were happy people once. Not naïve, just animated, social, alive. We gathered constantly. We danced at weddings, at birthdays, at no occasion at all.

Joel Shelley

Dr Summers presses the ignition and the machine whirs to life.

Surmaya Talyarkhan

I first heard of aphantasia in a writing workshop – a poet told us she didn’t see visual images in her head. I had always thought everyone didn’t.

Louella Lester

When Mom flew off with the Canada geese you made me promise that we would never leave one another.

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.

Recent Haiku

Wayne F. Burke

faces on a school bus:
petals of flowers
unopened

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.

Picks of the Month

Reviews

Shannon Clinton-Copeland on Lewis Buxton

Shannon Clinton-Copeland on Lewis Buxton

“Every poem in Mate Arias is a supporting column in the architecture of a tenderly rendered pantheon to friendship and the myriad forms of platonic love, particularly between men. The pamphlet is made up of twenty-three sonnets, each a vignette of affection, contemplation and memory.”

read more
Chris Hardy on Quentin Cowdry

Chris Hardy on Quentin Cowdry

The poems are carefully structured in regular stanzas, with well-paced, rhythmical lines and deft use of enjambment. The various subjects and themes, which differentiate and unite the work, are built on close observation of the world, of nature and human experience, and how we relate to and respond to it.

read more
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