Stephen McNulty

32, Living in Edinburgh, Scotland. Dreamt of being an author since I was a child. Trying to take my first steps as an adult.

Writings

Followers

Following

Stephen McNulty

32, Living in Edinburgh, Scotland. Dreamt of being an author since I was a child. Trying to take my first steps as an adult.

Writings

Followers

Following

Macbeth at the Theatre

Stephen McNulty

1 min read

Ladies and gentlemen,

The time has come. The curtains are opening. The show is about to start.

You watch and spectate. You see the tacky scenery, the undone costumes, the strobing lighting, the messy stage, the horrid storyline, the futile attempts at humour, the pathetic acting. You observe it all. You watch the dancers fall over their skirts, And the drama queens losing their tiaras, And the c...

Poetry

Memory Box

Stephen McNulty

1 min read

There's a box of memories

I keep beneath my bed.

Inside there is a record,

Of all I've done and said.

My every word and action,

However vile or lewd,

Once shut away inside my box,

Is trapped inside for good.

I never dare to open,

This box so full of dread,

That's strengthened by my darkest fears,

And by my nightmares fed.

But even so I'm powerless,

I cannot stop the tide

Of past mistakes and...

Poetry

Perfection

Stephen McNulty

1 min read

For you I strive,

My reason to stay alive.

Two steps forward,

Three steps back,

But still my only drive.

To see your face,

I run an infinite race.

Hands outstretching,

Just in reach,

Yet I just can’t keep the pace.

I give my all,

No question of fail or fall.

Just beyond me,

Feeding on fear,

Demanding I answer your call.

Pain in my heart,

Exhausted since the start,

One more headache,

One last w...

Poetry

Time

Stephen McNulty

1 min read

You are my constant companion.

Yet never the same.

You are invaluable, scarce,

Yet seldom treasured.

You are finite, fleeting,

Yet easily squandered.

You are craved and beseeched,

Yet readily killed.

You are my first and last thought,

Yet quicky forgotten.

You are past and future,

Yet never present.

For however long I may yearn for you,

You are already gone....

Poetry

Writer’s Block

Stephen McNulty

2 min read

A sure-fire way to lose some hair,

Is sitting in a writer's chair.

You pick up a pen, write maybe a page,

Then jump up off the chair in rage.

It's not a bad thing – writer's block,

But it pulls a few hours out of the clock.

Just when you thought you could write with speed,

You find – a few more days you'll need.

So you wait a week, and then come back.

You've got it this time! It's in the sack!

Y...

Poetry

Humour

Reste…

Stephen McNulty

1 min read

Pourvu que tu sois

À côté de moi

Je sais que tout ira bien.

Enveloppé dans tes bras,

Je serai tout à toi,

Et toi tu seras le mien.

J'aperçois dans tes yeux,

Un calme mystérieux,

Une étrange sérénité.

Ne crains-tu pas ceux,

qui, à regarder nous deux,

Condamneraient notre fraternité?...

Poetry

Romance

Returning

Stephen McNulty

2 min read

The smell of stale leaves invaded his nostrils. Decay. Detritus. And him, left among it, alone among these silent but somehow threatening pines.

He did not know how he had come to be there, nor how long he had been there. In fact, he didn’t know much anymore. He wasn’t even sure he knew his name anymore.

Before him… was that light? Yes… it must be. A path leading out of this wooded prison. He t...

Horror