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

Ian Hickey

When the half-light drops below the horizon
the birth of darkness comes

Rose Lennard

My mother died seven years ago, but last night
she had a message for me. The mechanics
are irrelevant, what she gave stays with me

Rongili Biswas

Girls under the tree,
one with hands clasped as in worship,
the others picking
the scarlet fallen seeds

Laura Sheahen

What is the ancient curse they know that you don’t
Moving along their mouth-lines and their eyebrows
Lowering their lids, tensing their nods or shrugs

Marilyn Ricci

After his baby son died he strapped
a tumble dryer to his back and ran
the roads around the village.

Previously featured

Dawn Sands

Walking home from the lecture on Frankenstein
through the November mizzle, small breaths of exhaust
sighing in the twilight headlights, particles of wet air commingling.

read more

Ken Evans

    Octopus I am one Like short of being beautiful. Five hundred more Followers, I’m away to fight culture wars. I Block two for lies Quora does not verify. Counter-factuals are ok, there’s simmering wastelands to make out of vague, but someone sent a shroom...

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

Word & Image

Filmpoems

Eleanor Holmes

Eleanor Holmes

One winter I remember he looked up and said:
‘the moon is a melon.’

We’d made a telescope out of used loo roll
to look for Father Christmas.

cw: flickering images

read more

Featured Poetry/Prose of the Day

Ian Hickey

When the half-light drops below the horizon
the birth of darkness comes

Rose Lennard

My mother died seven years ago, but last night
she had a message for me. The mechanics
are irrelevant, what she gave stays with me

Rongili Biswas

Girls under the tree,
one with hands clasped as in worship,
the others picking
the scarlet fallen seeds

Laura Sheahen

What is the ancient curse they know that you don’t
Moving along their mouth-lines and their eyebrows
Lowering their lids, tensing their nods or shrugs

Marilyn Ricci

After his baby son died he strapped
a tumble dryer to his back and ran
the roads around the village.

News

Word & Image

Filmpoems

Eleanor Holmes

Eleanor Holmes

One winter I remember he looked up and said:
‘the moon is a melon.’

We’d made a telescope out of used loo roll
to look for Father Christmas.

cw: flickering images

read more

Previously featured

Dawn Sands

Walking home from the lecture on Frankenstein
through the November mizzle, small breaths of exhaust
sighing in the twilight headlights, particles of wet air commingling.

read more

Ken Evans

    Octopus I am one Like short of being beautiful. Five hundred more Followers, I’m away to fight culture wars. I Block two for lies Quora does not verify. Counter-factuals are ok, there’s simmering wastelands to make out of vague, but someone sent a shroom...

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

Reviews