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.

IS&T Shop

Buy Ink Sweat & Tears Publishing books and pamphlets here.

Featured Poetry/Prose of the Day

Iris Anne Lewis

And so I went into the owl.
 
Eyes, green as moss,
darken to black. Oak tassels
spell-woven to feathers.

Nairn Kennedy

You notice the nose: webbed veins spritzed
with little flicks of red, purple blotches
daubed with a palette-knife, broken ends
where blood-vessels gave up the ghost.

Jason Ryberg 

Still Life of Fish and Bird

Mark McDonnell

Fascinated by the priest’s teeth I don’t realise
I’m kicking the pew in front with a restless foot
until someone taps me sharply on the knee.

James Mason

In Italian I have no inner life.
With no past or future tense
My needs are immediate.

Previously featured

Ervin Brown for Day three of our Invisible and Visible Disabilities feature and for the last day of Autism Acceptance month

I ran to the gym instructor, a tall man. He had a bumpkin’s voice and wore a jersey like he played football. He leaned against the school wall with his buddies. I tugged at his arm and pointed at the boy who wouldn’t leave me alone, but he waved me off. This was not the first time I had been bullied for my autism.

I walked past the playground into a wooded area, trekking along the fence line until I reached the opposite end of the schoolyard. This spot is where the yard spilled into the main road. I took one step off the grass and felt a rainbow of delight explode from my chest. I was no longer on school property.

read more

Pascal Vine and – – – ajae – – – for our Invisible and Visible Disabilities Feature

Chronic fuck slug
Chronic floor sleeping
Chronic fist seething
Chronic food swallowing
Chronic feuding skin
Chronic foreseen surrender
Chronic failure synonym
Chronic sel(f)-inlictednes(s)
Chronic found inner-piece(s)
Chronic forcibly sending love (&) (kisse(s))
Chronic we (f)ucking mi(s)s you

– Pascal Vine

breaking through the battering lashings of exhaustion and overwhelm,
a quiet, passionate voice buds within you.
it exasperatingly sprouts and presses and pouts, saying:
“we’re forever dogged!
it’s forever dusk!
our soul’s been over-tillaged!
you’re becoming but a husk!
we need a rest
we need a break please!
our brittle bones are steeped in ache.”

– – – ajae – – –

read more

Recent Prose

Hallie Oakwood

His phone pings; the morning sun glares. Kyle staggers to the bathroom mirror amidst empty bottles for inducing oblivion. Red-eyed and dishevelled, with stubble masking gray complexion and black hair in matted clumps; he checks his phone. Today’s date snipes him between the eyes: one hour till…

DS Maolalai

I’m in the spare bedroom/office.
Chrysty’s in a rotten bad mood.
she walks the apartment
like a donkey stable. kicks holes

Joseph Marcel Ikhenoba on Father’s Day

My father died with all his keys still on the ring. House key. Padlock key. The tiny brass one for the old suitcase he never opened. Office key for a job he left in 2002. A car key for a Toyota that rusted behind the house.

Robert A. Cozzi

How’s “James Dean” doing? I had a feeling our little stunt would work. I knew the second he saw us kiss, he’d come running back to you (you’re welcome, by the way). It’s kind of sweet how much effort he puts into that rebel-without-a-cause look.

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.

Recent Haiku

Jason Ryberg 

Still Life of Fish and Bird

Alex Stolis

It’s 16 below zero. Actual temp. We’re sole owners of the shore, windchill pushes it down to minus 36.

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

News

No Results Found

The page you requested could not be found. Try refining your search, or use the navigation above to locate the post.

Word & Image

No Results Found

The page you requested could not be found. Try refining your search, or use the navigation above to locate the post.

Filmpoems

No Results Found

The page you requested could not be found. Try refining your search, or use the navigation above to locate the post.

Featured Poetry/Prose of the Day

Iris Anne Lewis

And so I went into the owl.
 
Eyes, green as moss,
darken to black. Oak tassels
spell-woven to feathers.

Nairn Kennedy

You notice the nose: webbed veins spritzed
with little flicks of red, purple blotches
daubed with a palette-knife, broken ends
where blood-vessels gave up the ghost.

Jason Ryberg 

Still Life of Fish and Bird

Mark McDonnell

Fascinated by the priest’s teeth I don’t realise
I’m kicking the pew in front with a restless foot
until someone taps me sharply on the knee.

James Mason

In Italian I have no inner life.
With no past or future tense
My needs are immediate.

News

No Results Found

The page you requested could not be found. Try refining your search, or use the navigation above to locate the post.

Word & Image

No Results Found

The page you requested could not be found. Try refining your search, or use the navigation above to locate the post.

Filmpoems

No Results Found

The page you requested could not be found. Try refining your search, or use the navigation above to locate the post.

Previously featured

Ervin Brown for Day three of our Invisible and Visible Disabilities feature and for the last day of Autism Acceptance month

I ran to the gym instructor, a tall man. He had a bumpkin’s voice and wore a jersey like he played football. He leaned against the school wall with his buddies. I tugged at his arm and pointed at the boy who wouldn’t leave me alone, but he waved me off. This was not the first time I had been bullied for my autism.

I walked past the playground into a wooded area, trekking along the fence line until I reached the opposite end of the schoolyard. This spot is where the yard spilled into the main road. I took one step off the grass and felt a rainbow of delight explode from my chest. I was no longer on school property.

read more

Pascal Vine and – – – ajae – – – for our Invisible and Visible Disabilities Feature

Chronic fuck slug
Chronic floor sleeping
Chronic fist seething
Chronic food swallowing
Chronic feuding skin
Chronic foreseen surrender
Chronic failure synonym
Chronic sel(f)-inlictednes(s)
Chronic found inner-piece(s)
Chronic forcibly sending love (&) (kisse(s))
Chronic we (f)ucking mi(s)s you

– Pascal Vine

breaking through the battering lashings of exhaustion and overwhelm,
a quiet, passionate voice buds within you.
it exasperatingly sprouts and presses and pouts, saying:
“we’re forever dogged!
it’s forever dusk!
our soul’s been over-tillaged!
you’re becoming but a husk!
we need a rest
we need a break please!
our brittle bones are steeped in ache.”

– – – ajae – – –

read more

Recent Prose

Hallie Oakwood

His phone pings; the morning sun glares. Kyle staggers to the bathroom mirror amidst empty bottles for inducing oblivion. Red-eyed and dishevelled, with stubble masking gray complexion and black hair in matted clumps; he checks his phone. Today’s date snipes him between the eyes: one hour till…

DS Maolalai

I’m in the spare bedroom/office.
Chrysty’s in a rotten bad mood.
she walks the apartment
like a donkey stable. kicks holes

Joseph Marcel Ikhenoba on Father’s Day

My father died with all his keys still on the ring. House key. Padlock key. The tiny brass one for the old suitcase he never opened. Office key for a job he left in 2002. A car key for a Toyota that rusted behind the house.

Robert A. Cozzi

How’s “James Dean” doing? I had a feeling our little stunt would work. I knew the second he saw us kiss, he’d come running back to you (you’re welcome, by the way). It’s kind of sweet how much effort he puts into that rebel-without-a-cause look.

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.

Recent Haiku

Jason Ryberg 

Still Life of Fish and Bird

Alex Stolis

It’s 16 below zero. Actual temp. We’re sole owners of the shore, windchill pushes it down to minus 36.

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

Picks of the Month

No Results Found

The page you requested could not be found. Try refining your search, or use the navigation above to locate the post.

Reviews

No Results Found

The page you requested could not be found. Try refining your search, or use the navigation above to locate the post.