Paul Stewart
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 (1318)
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The Power of Words
I understand the power of words...the power in the pen, in the turn of a phrase, a smile and relatively cordial attitude (that is how it is in my head, you understand) can be transformed into a saddening sorry mess of downturned lips and sunken cheeks. Then comes the waterworks. Oh, the Niagara tear falls from the victim of childhood curt cruelty. The weeping on a random Tuesday or Wednesday in January back in the 1980s when I was less grey, more a mop of the darkest untamed brown hair you'd swear was black. I did not have my patented belly hanging down either but had the appetite of a ferocious beast.
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Confessions
Glass Dolls by S.E. Holz In Review
It has been a long time coming, but here is my review of S.E. Holz's(L.C. Schäfer) debut book - Glass Dolls: A Collection of Short Stories. I had long-promised to do a review-for-a-review with L.C. who was going to review my own, which you can find out details about here.
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in BookClub
Wisdom Over Ivory. Content Warning.
"As I stand here in this tight, confined space, all I can hear is groans, moans and then silence at varying intervals. There is a pungent stench, something foul in the air, that's for sure. It feels worse than any swamp I've ever played in... something uncomfortable. It feels unsteady, and there's a thickness in the air. If I were a more superstitious mammal, I would say there is a stink of death in the air. The increasing temperature as it hits midday is not helping things feel any fresher or more comfortable.
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Fiction
Everyone Does it...
If only... Ah, hindsight. If only I could let it all go, let all the emotions building up inside me go. If only I could say, "My tears need a minute to find the edges of my face. If you'll please excuse me." when someone asks if I'm okay rather than my usual response of "Yes, getting by, day by day." Of course, I'm not okay, and there's every chance I won't ever be okay again. Why would anyone think I would be okay?
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Fiction
