A poem about my mother's elaborate plan to end her life at 70 by throwing herself down a crevasse in the Franz Josef Glacier or Fox Glacier. I can't remember which. End of life choice is complicated and personal. Her own choice was purely imaginary when she was young.

Take a few minutes off and let me read to you. Today, I’ll read some tiny little poems that I call fortune cookies. They are feather light. Maybe one of them is about your own life. You’ll know it when you hear it. The poems are from How To Be Old published by The Cuba Press.

 

 

Listen to two poems about decluttering and letting go of stuff. They’re about the kind of transformation that needs to happen as old age approaches. It’s not just material things that clutter up your life. There’s a sort of psychic clutter that has also got to go.

Hello again. I’m Rachel McAlpine bringing you a Friday night poetry reading. Tonight I’ve got a special treat: two poems about murder. Don’t worry, they’re not too scary. The main poem is about the Parker-Hulme murder of 1954.

We’ve just emerged from lockdown in New Zealand after stamping out COVID-19, at least for now. So we’ve spent a lot of time inside our homes. These 3 poems are about some of the 25+ homes I've occupied over 80 years.

Tonight we have three poems about three generations of strong women: my grandmother Mim, my mother Celia, and my big sister Jill.

I'm reading three poems now especially for Grant, the father of my children, who died a few days ago. He was 84. It’s forty years since we separated and these are not gloomy poems. Lust, A Family Secret, and My Dear Ghosts are in my new book, How To Be Old.

This is your Friday night poetry reading. It's short and sweet, just 3 introductory poems from my new book. Live events cancelled: enjoy podcast readings!

Find out why poets choose a particular poetic style, fancy or plain. And why the lines of a poem don't reach the margins, and why it's OK for your mind to wander while you're reading poetry, and what's the point of poetry anyway.

Two soothing poems and some practices that I use to maintain my happiness in lockdown, first adopted when I was facing up to my ageing body.