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

Roger Robinson

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

Amirah Al Wassif

My double sits before me now. I stare deep into her, as I do every day after midnight. When I raise my hands, she raises hers.

Sophie Lankarani

Even though I only once traced your streets with my own feet,
you wandered into my dreams anyway
sliding in through my grandmother’s stories,

Mark A. Hill

She wills his brush in colour
and chalking, fierce hued flaws,
which fall flat on the canvas

Rebecca Wheatley

He thought his heart was broken yet the day began again.

Previously featured

Genevieve Carver

Hysteria say you’re on stage or in Tesco buying tinned fish for the dog or it’s a dream in which you’re arguing with your mother and your womb starts moving about your body like it’s got a mind of its own the Ancient Greeks called it wandering but a better word might...

read more

Olga Dermott

Skeleton It was one of those fancy restaurants where they pushed your chair in for you, brought the whole fish to the table. We all had to watch while the waiter performed his theatrical surgery, removing the head with a twist, then a stylish flaying until, with a...

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

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

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Word & Image

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Filmpoems

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Featured Poetry/Prose of the Day

Roger Robinson

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

Amirah Al Wassif

My double sits before me now. I stare deep into her, as I do every day after midnight. When I raise my hands, she raises hers.

Sophie Lankarani

Even though I only once traced your streets with my own feet,
you wandered into my dreams anyway
sliding in through my grandmother’s stories,

Mark A. Hill

She wills his brush in colour
and chalking, fierce hued flaws,
which fall flat on the canvas

Rebecca Wheatley

He thought his heart was broken yet the day began again.

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

Genevieve Carver

Hysteria say you’re on stage or in Tesco buying tinned fish for the dog or it’s a dream in which you’re arguing with your mother and your womb starts moving about your body like it’s got a mind of its own the Ancient Greeks called it wandering but a better word might...

read more

Olga Dermott

Skeleton It was one of those fancy restaurants where they pushed your chair in for you, brought the whole fish to the table. We all had to watch while the waiter performed his theatrical surgery, removing the head with a twist, then a stylish flaying until, with a...

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

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

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Reviews

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