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

Chrissy Banks and Antony Owen (from the IS&T archives) for Holocaust Memorial Day

  Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep       Goodnight moon, goodnight stars, goodnight cherry, pear, apple tree. Goodnight pond, stop wriggling, newts, stop zipping the water, water-boatmen. Goodnight, glossy horses on the hill, rabbits in the field, white owl, hungry and flying still. Goodnight pigeon, head tucked under your wing. Goodnight cars and vans on the road outside. Time to shut off engines, grab some rest. Goodnight Danny, Dylan. Put away your books, leave those other worlds for now. Goodnight Lenny. Still your football legs, calm your curious senses. Lay your head on the pillow and sleep. Goodnight little Cece. Take off your princess dress, your crown. Can you feel a pea under the mattress? You’ll never tell if you don’t lie down. Good night children of Syria, Gaza, Ukraine, Jerusalem. Close your eyes if you can. The stars shine on you all. The moon sees everything.     Chrissy Banks is a former therapist. She lives in Exeter, runs poetry reading...

Clare Bryden

how do I begin?

Yvonne Baker

an etherial whiteness 

that covers and disguises

as a strip of white frosted glass 

Hilary Thompson

Ambling up North Street
on a Saturday afternoon
at the end of a long Winter,

I am stopped by two women

Irene Cunningham

Lavender seeps. I expect my limbs to leaden, lead the body down through sheet, mattress-cover, into the machinery of sleep where other lives exist.

Previously featured

Kirsty Fox

Winged     Kirsty Fox is a writer and artist specialising in ecopoetics. She writes lyric essays and poetry, and has had work published by Apricot Press, Arachne Press, and Streetcake Magazine. She has a Masters in Creative Writing and is currently studying...

read more

Jason Ryberg

Sometimes I’d swear that
the ancient box fan I’ve hauled
     around with me for
     years is a receiver for
     the conversations of ghosts

read more

Recent Prose

Cliff McNish

Heaven For starters, the standard works everyone gets: three trumpets blown in unison; your name acclaimed to the galactic hegemony of stars; plus assorted angels with ceramically smooth hands (the nail-work!) casting wholesale quantities of petals...

Jesse Keng Sum Lee

Lloyd is dressed like a candy bar in an all-too-bright gas station. Gleaming red tracksuit,
brand name under the sternum like a label.

Kapka Nilan

When she left, the winds picked up and the bloated sun filled the horizon with fire, the sky turning ochre. She hurried in the heat, leaving behind what she called a tribe, not a homeland.

Jude Mason

I have compiled an incomplete list of the small and many forms of sadness that can be experienced by humans. The sadness of cracking the spine of a new book. The sadness of odd socks. The sadness of attempting to pet a cat, but the cat does not wish to be petted.

Fokkina McDonnell

I begged my boss to let me do the interview with the fire historian. I have form, I told him.

Recent Haiku

Clare Bryden

how do I begin?

R.C. Thomas

The Universe dreamed I’d come to its restaurant. I needed to pass the time before my train home.

Anthony Lusardi

the highway asphalt. reeks of exhaust and burnt rubber. the cars and trucks go by. the sun boiling and you rotting.

Chen-ou Liu

snow crystals
on my neighbor’s windows …
Foreclosure askew

& more

Shasta Hatter

Empty Basket

Driving down the boulevard, I see large trees decorated with pink and white blossoms, evergreens tower over houses, trees flourish with spring greenery.

News

Word & Image

Filmpoems

Featured Poetry/Prose of the Day

Chrissy Banks and Antony Owen (from the IS&T archives) for Holocaust Memorial Day

  Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep       Goodnight moon, goodnight stars, goodnight cherry, pear, apple tree. Goodnight pond, stop wriggling, newts, stop zipping the water, water-boatmen. Goodnight, glossy horses on the hill, rabbits in the field, white owl, hungry and flying still. Goodnight pigeon, head tucked under your wing. Goodnight cars and vans on the road outside. Time to shut off engines, grab some rest. Goodnight Danny, Dylan. Put away your books, leave those other worlds for now. Goodnight Lenny. Still your football legs, calm your curious senses. Lay your head on the pillow and sleep. Goodnight little Cece. Take off your princess dress, your crown. Can you feel a pea under the mattress? You’ll never tell if you don’t lie down. Good night children of Syria, Gaza, Ukraine, Jerusalem. Close your eyes if you can. The stars shine on you all. The moon sees everything.     Chrissy Banks is a former therapist. She lives in Exeter, runs poetry reading...

Clare Bryden

how do I begin?

Yvonne Baker

an etherial whiteness 

that covers and disguises

as a strip of white frosted glass 

Hilary Thompson

Ambling up North Street
on a Saturday afternoon
at the end of a long Winter,

I am stopped by two women

Irene Cunningham

Lavender seeps. I expect my limbs to leaden, lead the body down through sheet, mattress-cover, into the machinery of sleep where other lives exist.

News

Word & Image

Filmpoems

Previously featured

Kirsty Fox

Winged     Kirsty Fox is a writer and artist specialising in ecopoetics. She writes lyric essays and poetry, and has had work published by Apricot Press, Arachne Press, and Streetcake Magazine. She has a Masters in Creative Writing and is currently studying...

read more

Jason Ryberg

Sometimes I’d swear that
the ancient box fan I’ve hauled
     around with me for
     years is a receiver for
     the conversations of ghosts

read more

Recent Prose

Cliff McNish

Heaven For starters, the standard works everyone gets: three trumpets blown in unison; your name acclaimed to the galactic hegemony of stars; plus assorted angels with ceramically smooth hands (the nail-work!) casting wholesale quantities of petals...

Jesse Keng Sum Lee

Lloyd is dressed like a candy bar in an all-too-bright gas station. Gleaming red tracksuit,
brand name under the sternum like a label.

Kapka Nilan

When she left, the winds picked up and the bloated sun filled the horizon with fire, the sky turning ochre. She hurried in the heat, leaving behind what she called a tribe, not a homeland.

Jude Mason

I have compiled an incomplete list of the small and many forms of sadness that can be experienced by humans. The sadness of cracking the spine of a new book. The sadness of odd socks. The sadness of attempting to pet a cat, but the cat does not wish to be petted.

Fokkina McDonnell

I begged my boss to let me do the interview with the fire historian. I have form, I told him.

Recent Haiku

Clare Bryden

how do I begin?

R.C. Thomas

The Universe dreamed I’d come to its restaurant. I needed to pass the time before my train home.

Anthony Lusardi

the highway asphalt. reeks of exhaust and burnt rubber. the cars and trucks go by. the sun boiling and you rotting.

Chen-ou Liu

snow crystals
on my neighbor’s windows …
Foreclosure askew

& more

Shasta Hatter

Empty Basket

Driving down the boulevard, I see large trees decorated with pink and white blossoms, evergreens tower over houses, trees flourish with spring greenery.

Picks of the Month

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