Stuart A. Paterson
Biography of Stuart A. Paterson
Stuart is an award-winning poet in Scots and English. He lives in Kirkcudbrightshire after returning to the area in 2012 following 14 years of working in north-west England. An Ayrshireman of long descent, he founded and edited the international poetry and prose review ‘Spectrum’ from 1989 to 1996. He was given an Eric Gregory Award in 1992 from the UK Society of Authors, recognising the UK’s finest poets under the age of 30, and a Scottish Arts Council Writer’s Bursary in 1993 to spend time travelling and writing in France and Greece. Most recently, he was awarded a Robert Louis Stevenson Fellowship from the Scottish Book Trust, enabling him to spend November 2014 working and writing in the Hôtel Chevillon International Arts Centre at Grez-sur-Loing in France.
He was one of the new generation of Scottish poets featured in Dream State: The New Scottish Poets (Polygon 1994/2002) , for which he wrote the title poem. He also had work featured in Scottish Literature in the Twentieth Century: An Anthology (Scottish Cultural Press) , A Year in Poetry: A Treasury of Classic and Modern Verses (Random House) and, more recently, Scotia Nova: Poems For The Early Days Of A Better Nation, (Luath Press 2015) . His work has also appeared in The Cambridge Journal of Comparative Criticism, The Long-islander (USA) , Australian Poetry Journal, Chapman, Lines Review, Westerly (Australia) , Tule Review (USA) Lallans, The Poets’ Voice (Austria) , New Contrast (RSA) , Carapace (RSA) , La Brita Esperantista, Contemporary Verse 2 (Canada) and many other publications.
Stuart A. Paterson's Works:
Mulaney of Larne & other poems (University of Leiden 'Scottish Poets' series,1991)
Saving Graces (Diehard,1997)
Border Lines (Indigo Dreams Publishing,2015)
Stuart A. Paterson Poems
He won’t change a tyre or put up a shelf that won’t fall off or fall in on itself, he won’t know the difference between neutral & live or decorate, plaster, wire circuits, or drive.
(Isle of Vatersay) Here is a house where no-one lives by a beach where the wide-water highway is
At Crianlarich where the great winds roared, hyphens of railway line flow to meet between frowns of dark mountain, converge tremulously for a timetabled heartbeat.
(Grez-sur-Loing, November 2014) It's long after midnight, cold, damp, French fog slinking up from the Loing
At Crianlarich where the great winds roared,
hyphens of railway line flow to meet
between frowns of dark mountain, converge
tremulously for a timetabled heartbeat.
Colliding briefly like huge angry stags
in coupling then hurtling away south or north,
dark carriages filled to the brim with us
rest uneasily in temporary berth.