Fleur Adcock

Fleur Adcock CNZM OBE (10 February 1934 – 10 October 2024) was a New Zealand poet, editor and translator. Born in Papakura, New Zealand, and raised partly in England, Adcock spent most of her adult life in the United Kingdom, where she became a prominent figure in contemporary poetry.Her work is characterised by wit, a conversational tone and psychological insights, and explores themes of identity, place and the complexities of human relationships. Over a career spanning more than six decades, she published around 20 poetry collections, and edited influential anthologies such as the Oxford Book of Contemporary New Zealand Poetry (1982). Her contributions to British and New Zealand literature were recognised with significant awards, including the Queen's Gold Medal for Poetry (2006), an OBE (1996), appointment as a Companion of the New Zealand Order of Merit (2008), and an honorary doctorate of literature from Victoria University of Wellington (2007) She was also a noted translator of medieval Latin and Romanian poetry. Quotes There are worse things than having behaved foolishly in public. There are worse things than these miniature betrayals, committed or endured or suspected; there are worse things than not being able to sleep for thinking about them. It is 5 a.m. All the worse things come stalking in and stand icily about the bed looking worse and worse and worse It is 5 a.m. All the worse things come stalking in and stand icily about the bed looking worse and worse and worse. But now that I am in love with a place which doesn’t care how I look, or if I’m happy,happy is how I look. I stopped writing poetry when I stopped smoking.... It was more complicated than that. I write in praise of the solitary act: of not feeling a trespassing tongue forced into one's mouth, one's breath smothered, nipples crushed against the ribcage, and that metallic tingling in the chin set off by a certain odd nerve: unpleasure. Somehow we manage it: to like our friends, to tolerate not only their little ways but their huge neuroses, their monumental oddness: "Oh well," we smile, "it's one of his funny days." My verse forms are relatively traditional (traditions alter). In general they have moved away from strict classical patterns in the direction of greater freedom — as is usual with most artists learning a trade. It takes courage, however, to leave all props behind, to cast oneself, like Matisse, upon pure space. I still await that confidence. Perhaps relationships work more powerfully when there is absence and tension and a lot of heartache. I can't live with people. Poetry is a search for ways of communication; it must be conducted with openness, flexibility, and a constant readiness to listen. All poets, all writers, are terrible parasites. We use people and experiences. External link Category: dead people Category:Women authors from New Zealand Category: translators Category:Editors from New Zealand Category: poets