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.

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Featured Poetry/Prose of the Day

Cath Holland

by | May 23, 2026 | Featured, Prose | 0 Comments

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.

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Cheryl Snell, Alice Gregorio, Peter Lilly

by | May 22, 2026 | Featured, Poetry | 0 Comments

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…

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Jade Kleiner

by | May 21, 2026 | Featured, Poetry | 0 Comments

There is the green that birthed all pine trees.

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Tom Blake

by | May 20, 2026 | Featured, Poetry | 0 Comments

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

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Kate Bonfield

by | May 19, 2026 | Featured, Poetry | 0 Comments

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

Previously featured

Bel Wallace

by | Jan 2, 2026

      Interior My dear, I washed you out of my sheets. And now I sleep softly in them. My dreams are sweet and free. I opened the windows to air out your smoke. I liked it for a while, how it held the past in its wispy fingers. I emptied your cigarette...

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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.

Read More

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.

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Joel Shelley

Dr Summers presses the ignition and the machine whirs to life.

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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.

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Louella Lester

When Mom flew off with the Canada geese you made me promise that we would never leave one another.

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Recent Haiku

Roger Robinson

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

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Wayne F. Burke

faces on a school bus:
petals of flowers
unopened

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Debbie Strange

midnight sun
a polar bear’s breath
catches fire

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Debbie Strange

winterberry
the first holiday
alone

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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

Read More

News

Word & Image

Filmpoems

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Featured Poetry/Prose of the Day

Cath Holland

by | May 23, 2026 | Featured, Prose | 0 Comments

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.

Read More

Cheryl Snell, Alice Gregorio, Peter Lilly

by | May 22, 2026 | Featured, Poetry | 0 Comments

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…

Read More

Jade Kleiner

by | May 21, 2026 | Featured, Poetry | 0 Comments

There is the green that birthed all pine trees.

Read More

Tom Blake

by | May 20, 2026 | Featured, Poetry | 0 Comments

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

by | May 19, 2026 | Featured, Poetry | 0 Comments

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

News

Word & Image

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

Bel Wallace

by | Jan 2, 2026

      Interior My dear, I washed you out of my sheets. And now I sleep softly in them. My dreams are sweet and free. I opened the windows to air out your smoke. I liked it for a while, how it held the past in its wispy fingers. I emptied your cigarette...

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.

Read More

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.

Read More

Joel Shelley

Dr Summers presses the ignition and the machine whirs to life.

Read More

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.

Read More

Louella Lester

When Mom flew off with the Canada geese you made me promise that we would never leave one another.

Read More

Recent Haiku

Roger Robinson

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

Read More

Wayne F. Burke

faces on a school bus:
petals of flowers
unopened

Read More

Debbie Strange

midnight sun
a polar bear’s breath
catches fire

Read More

Debbie Strange

winterberry
the first holiday
alone

Read More

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

Read More

Picks of the Month

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Reviews

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