Paul Stewart
Bio
Scottish-Italian poet/writer from Glasgow.
Overflowing in English language torture and word abuse.
"Every man has a sane spot somewhere" R.L Stevenson
The Accidental Poet - Poetry Collection is now available!
https://paulspoeticprints.etsy.com
Achievements (1)
Stories (740/0)
Shame Won't Wash Away
a square of fabric can wash away dirt and stains but not the deep shame * Thanks for reading! Author's Notes: This is another entry into Matthew Fromm's great little challenge, which you can find out more about below. Basically, take a mundane object and write a 5-7-5 poem about it.
By Paul Stewartabout a month ago in Poets
Blood Red
Red, the girl with flaming locks and the palest flesh, was well-known throughout the village and beyond as the kind of person who kept herself to herself. She had been pursued by many different people, who were interested in making Red their wife. She was not the settling down type, was the reason she gave for each new suitor and suitress. Aside from her Gramma and her job delivering baked goods and treats from the local bakery, no-one could understand her stance.
By Paul Stewartabout a month ago in Fiction
Ewan the Elf and The Shoemakers
There once was a shoemaker who was down on his luck. Business had been slow, and his health was waning. His wife tried to keep things afloat. She worked through the night to cover their orders. One night as she worked on a large order of shoes, she started to feel drowsy and collapsed in the workshop.
By Paul Stewartabout a month ago in Fiction
Just One Defining, Defiling Minute
Come with me and you will see a world of pure humiliation. As the school bell sounded loudly throughout the modern structure, reverberating off the walls, ceilings and floors as armies of students rushed to their classrooms, one stood out, even from afar.
By Paul Stewartabout a month ago in Fiction
My Name is Peter Callis
Smoke and metal tainted the pleasant and beautiful star-filled sky, as we looked up without hope, just fear. The satellites that orbited the planet marched in unison. The steel shards that pierced into the night, the symbols of our demise, would have been marvelled at by some and indeed they were. Until they came to symbolise something different to progress. Until they came to symbolise our extinction. Slow and gradual, but inevitable. We never stopped, never thought to take a pause or to reflect. We had seen what happened in the various wars and various regimes when human leaders were granted untapped power, with no consequence and yet we sought to create. Sought to create something bigger, better, and all the more terrifying.
By Paul Stewart2 months ago in Fiction