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
Previously featured
Dragana Lazici
the days are long but the years are short.
seconds are tiny kitchen knives in my back.
i stopped reading Dickinson, her voice is a sad parrot.
Abigail Ottley
Faces, unless they come swimming up close. are a blur of piggy-pink and ice-
cream. In the street, she doesn’t know, cannot be certain when to smile, when to
look away
Recent Prose
Recent Haiku
News
For National Poetry Day ‘Refuge’: Q&A with poet Sue Wallace-Shaddad and Sula Rubens RWS
Sue Wallace-Shaddad and Sula Rubens first met in 2019 and connected over their shared interest in the concepts of...
Word & Image
Debbie Strange
Lightfall lightfall so, too snow Debbie Strange (Canada) is a...
Filmpoems
Jessamine O’Connor & Carmel Balfe
The Stranger, our film poem for this month, comes from co-creators Jessamine O'Connor and Carmel Balfe. It explores...
Featured Poetry/Prose of the Day
News
For National Poetry Day ‘Refuge’: Q&A with poet Sue Wallace-Shaddad and Sula Rubens RWS
Sue Wallace-Shaddad and Sula Rubens first met in 2019 and connected over their shared interest in the concepts of...
Word & Image
Debbie Strange
Lightfall lightfall so, too snow Debbie Strange (Canada) is a...
More Word & Image
Jessamine O’Connor & Carmel Balfe
The Stranger, our film poem for this month, comes from co-creators Jessamine O'Connor and Carmel Balfe. It explores...
Previously featured
Dragana Lazici
the days are long but the years are short.
seconds are tiny kitchen knives in my back.
i stopped reading Dickinson, her voice is a sad parrot.
Abigail Ottley
Faces, unless they come swimming up close. are a blur of piggy-pink and ice-
cream. In the street, she doesn’t know, cannot be certain when to smile, when to
look away
Recent Prose
Recent Haiku
Picks of the Month
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Reviews
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