Paul Stewart

Joined March 2021

1329 stories

Bio

Award-Winning Writer, Poet, Scottish-Italian, Subversive.

The Accidental Poet - Poetry Collection out now!

Streams and Scratches in My Mind coming soon!

Achievements (28)

Stories (1329)

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Even If
Dark Memoirs - Index “Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn’t go away.” — Philip K. Dick “There are grey spots in your memory. It will deteriorate over time.”
By Paul Stewartabout 8 hours ago in Chapters
Blips
Dark Memoirs - Index Wait. The mushroom tattoo. Was that not an earlier victim? I am not sure. I have had blips in the early days of my vocational work. Blips when sanity checks afterwards forced me to close systems that should never have been open circuits in the first place.
By Paul Stewartabout 8 hours ago in Chapters
That Was Different
If new to the series, you will find all chapters here: Dark Memoirs - Index “Nothing can last forever. There isn’t any memory, no matter how intense, that doesn’t fade out at last.”
By Paul Stewartabout 8 hours ago in Chapters
Proper Poet, Proper Prick
Am I a proper poet Or a proper prick Why can't I be both _ Okay so I don't rhyme Not much anyway But that's no crime _
By Paul Stewartabout 12 hours ago in Poets
From the Desk of the Literary Coroner
From the Desk of Literary Coroner: Today’s Intake On my desk arrived an intriguing manuscript titled The Five Stages of Damnation — Quinque Gradūs Damnatiōnis.
By Paul Stewarta day ago in Fiction
One Call
There are many days that pass me by without incident or consequence. Random Thursdays in April and Sundays in June. These days bring their own quiet beauty and romantic restraint — a restraint for life.
By Paul Stewart2 days ago in Poets
The Shape the Memory Requires
Serenity accomplished. Silence restored. Power comes from necessity. Not protection. Fear. Uncertainty bleeds. Trust was never promised.
By Paul Stewart4 days ago in Fiction
Still Life with Woman
Despite my youth and supposed good health, I had recently felt under the weather. In recent days, to be precise, I had felt my body slowly seizing up, heavier. It started in my fingers and toes: a loss of the freedom of movement expected for those digits at the extremities of my healthy body. Not exactly painful, but neither was it a piece of cake. After a day of that, I retired to bed, expecting to wake fully refreshed and better the next day.
By Paul Stewart5 days ago in Fiction
John and Paul's Three-Word Haiku/Senryu Unofficial Challenge
Ladies and gentlemen, poets and literary vandals. I bring glad tidings from the land of hope and glory, (Hallelujah!, shout it from the rooftops, etc., etc., exit feckin’ stage left) a fat orange retard and a man whom I'd follow into battle. Well, whom I might follow into a pub fight. Okay, maybe not. (Stage right, then?) But, I'd definitely follow him to the pub if he was going to buy a round or two, John Cox. (Scotland’s on my bucket list … what da ya know bout that?) Oh, and the land of haggis, more scenery than people, Olympic standard swearing, comedy, film, literature, music, dance, beauty, whisky, and me, Paul.
By Paul Stewart6 days ago in Writers
Yellow Light
Waking life, breathing Yellow light brightens the room yawning, feet touch down
By Paul Stewart6 days ago in Poets
flowery nothings
flowery flowery nothings of spring and summer come forth from the seeds of fanciful hope hope dressed in the finest of fabrics
By Paul Stewart6 days ago in Poets
Doing the Right Thing Poorly. Content Warning.
Get tae fuck outta mah face. That’s what ah said tae him. Ah suppose yer probably wondering why ah’m writing this. Well, without sounding all philosophical and all that pish — why does anyone dae anything? Anyone write anything?
By Paul Stewart8 days ago in Fiction