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

Charlotte Holm, Jennifer A McGowan

A leaky drainpipe drips
creating damp patches on uneven paving,
slime green algae blossoms
forming viridescent ripples

James McDermott

if samsara’s concrete please don’t come back
as black jackal for I live in Norwich
nor spineless worm as I don’t have a lawn

Cath Holland

The entry fee for the jumble sale at the homeless mission costs 20 pence or a pair of men’s jeans. I don’t have a pair of jeans with me would you believe. My quiet piece of silver plinks into the plastic bucket, and I reflect what you can’t get for 20 pence these days.

Cheryl Snell, Alice Gregorio, Peter Lilly

I grew up on a farm so I should know all about expensive cows and free milk. You’re taking being a debutante much too literally. We only meant to give permission for you to make a good match, not flit among the suitable boys…

Jade Kleiner

There is the green that birthed all pine trees.

Previously featured

Tom Blake

We were the housing and the housed,
meaning nothing except that
we were always occupied,
or to put it simply never out.

read more

Kate Bonfield

Coming home to days of heat
trapped beyond the door, to time skewed
by time away, the house bigger and
smaller than before.

read more

Recent Prose

Cath Holland

The entry fee for the jumble sale at the homeless mission costs 20 pence or a pair of men’s jeans. I don’t have a pair of jeans with me would you believe. My quiet piece of silver plinks into the plastic bucket, and I reflect what you can’t get for 20 pence these days.

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.

Recent Haiku

Roger Robinson

We walk from cane fields,
cotton in our nightshirts, sweet

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

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

Charlotte Holm, Jennifer A McGowan

A leaky drainpipe drips
creating damp patches on uneven paving,
slime green algae blossoms
forming viridescent ripples

James McDermott

if samsara’s concrete please don’t come back
as black jackal for I live in Norwich
nor spineless worm as I don’t have a lawn

Cath Holland

The entry fee for the jumble sale at the homeless mission costs 20 pence or a pair of men’s jeans. I don’t have a pair of jeans with me would you believe. My quiet piece of silver plinks into the plastic bucket, and I reflect what you can’t get for 20 pence these days.

Cheryl Snell, Alice Gregorio, Peter Lilly

I grew up on a farm so I should know all about expensive cows and free milk. You’re taking being a debutante much too literally. We only meant to give permission for you to make a good match, not flit among the suitable boys…

Jade Kleiner

There is the green that birthed all pine trees.

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

Tom Blake

We were the housing and the housed,
meaning nothing except that
we were always occupied,
or to put it simply never out.

read more

Kate Bonfield

Coming home to days of heat
trapped beyond the door, to time skewed
by time away, the house bigger and
smaller than before.

read more

Recent Prose

Cath Holland

The entry fee for the jumble sale at the homeless mission costs 20 pence or a pair of men’s jeans. I don’t have a pair of jeans with me would you believe. My quiet piece of silver plinks into the plastic bucket, and I reflect what you can’t get for 20 pence these days.

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.

Recent Haiku

Roger Robinson

We walk from cane fields,
cotton in our nightshirts, sweet

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

Picks of the Month

Reviews

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