Fleur Adcock, who has died aged 90, was one of the best loved and most esteemed poets in Britain and New Zealand. The full span of her work from 1960 until 2024 was published earlier this year in a 600-page volume of collected poems to coincide with her 90th birthday. She also translated Latin and Romanian verse, and edited The Oxford Book of Contemporary New Zealand Poetry (1982) and The Faber Book of Twentieth Century Women’s Poetry (1987).

Fleur’s deceptively relaxed conversational style is often barbed with an oblique take on reality. As the poet laureate Carol Ann Duffy said: “The sharper edge of her talent is encountered like a razor blade in a peach.”

Her poetry deals with life’s surprises and oddities, the unexpected or unexplained that can cut the ground from beneath your feet. Take the conceit of Regression, a poem from 1967: “All the flowers have gone back into the ground.” What appears familiar and recognisable becomes uncannily different as in dreams or nightmares.

In the same way Fleur probes the everyday with psychological accuracy. This appears in even her most tender poems, such as On a Son Returned to New Zealand (1971), about her first-born son, on his way home to his father: full of motherly pride in the first two lines – “He is my green branch growing in a green plantation. / He is my first invention” – she acknowledges the pain of parting with the wry comment, “No one can be in two places at once”.

Yet she is equally adept at melodrama: the awful realisation of the mistakes one has made, that haunt us in the middle of the night, occurs in Things (1979) when, at 5am: “All the worse things come stalking in / and stand icily about the bed looking worse and worse and worse”.

Fleur not only wrote about children, lovers, family relations, and increasingly, as she got older, her ancestors, but her world of affections, as the Australian poet Peter Porter called it, extends to animals both mythical and real, insects and creatures. In her precise observation, even the most insignificant or repellent win her admiration.

Slugs coupling “glide about, / silently undulating: two / slugs in a circle, tail to snout” and she exults at their climax: “they’ve dressed themselves in a cloud of foam, / a frothy veil for love-in-a-mist”.

In the groundswell of women’s poetry of the 1980s, Fleur – one of the few female poets to have joined Edward Lucie-Smith’s circle, the Group, in 1963 – became a voice to be listened to. She was an influence on a younger generation of poets that included Duffy, Carol Rumens, Vicki Feaver and Jo Shapcott, especially in writing about subjects such as smoking, celibacy, old age, masturbation, illness and bereavement, and thus opening up new topics for poetry.

There were some risqué tongue-in-cheek poems acclaiming the solo woman, like Smokers for Celibacy (1991), which concludes “Altogether, we’ve come to the conclusion that sex is a drag. / Just give us a fag”. Others celebrate women as superstars, fantastic figures of legend, elevated stratospherically, such as The Ex-Queen Among the Astronomers (1979), whose “hair / crackles, her eyes are comet-sparks” and who “brings the distant briefly close /above his dreamy abstract stare”.

Fleur was born in Papakura, in New Zealand’s North Island, to Cyril Adcock (who published as CJ Adcock), a teacher, and Irene (nee Robinson), a music teacher and writer. Fleur’s sister, Marilyn (later the acclaimed novelist Marilyn Duckworth), was born the following year.

In 1939 the family travelled to Britain so that Cyril could study for a doctorate in psychology at Birkbeck College, London, with war breaking out while the move was in progress. The sisters were evacuated, first to Grange Farm in Leicestershire – but other moves followed and Fleur counted 11 schools in seven and a half years.

Upon the family’s return to New Zealand, she studied classics at Wellington girls’ college and Te Herenga Waka – Victoria University of Wellington. In 1952 she married the poet Alistair Te Ariki Campbell, and they had two sons, Gregory and Andrew. They divorced in 1958; a second marriage of five months followed in 1962, to the writer Barry Crump, before Fleur departed for Britain in 1963.

She had already written most of her first collection, The Eye of the Hurricane (1964), which was published in New Zealand: many of these poems are placeless, reflecting her passion for the English landscape and inability to engage with the natural world of her native country.

When settings appear, as in her next volume, Tigers (1967), published in the UK, there is a sting. Stewart Island (1971) begins: “‘But look at all this beauty,’ / said the hotel manager’s wife”. It concludes with the image of a seagull descending with jabbing beak, and her comment, “I had already / decided to leave the country.”

Although Fleur’s work fitted into the mainstream of postwar British poetry despite its outsider interrogations, she carried out her personal explorations with the zeal of a newcomer. She developed a passion for places and journeys: the landscapes of Northern Ireland introduced her to her maternal roots, and made her aware of the ethnic complexity of her New Zealand identity; she fell in love with the Lake District, discovering Dorothy Wordsworth’s journals, as Arts Council creative writing fellow at Charlotte Mason College of Education in Ambleside (1977-78) , and then with the north of England, as Northern Arts literary fellow at the Universities of Newcastle and Durham.

Well established by then, and familiar to many as a poetry commentator for the BBC, she resigned in 1979 from her position at the Foreign and Commonwealth Office library to become a full-time writer. Later she supported herself when necessary by tutoring for the creative writing organisation Arvon.

After the publication of Poems 1960-2000 (2000), Fleur stopped writing for a decade. But then a late flowering occurred, with five new volumes, enough to double her previous output, as she became, in her words, “embarrassingly prolific”.

A strong motivating factor was her fascination with the past and ancestral voices; this was tied up with her reconciliation with New Zealand, a reunion effected over decades by constant travel back and forth, but now more intensely focused on the early years, her parents and their colonial origins.

It was a sideways glance at her country of origin, fuelled by her curiosity about places and her unceasing search for connectivity, an elliptical rather than a full circle. Poems in The Land Ballot (2015) and Hoard (2017) record excursions and road trips: titles include Kuaotunu, Rangiwahia, Drury, Pakiri, Ruakaka, Alfriston, Helensville and Raglan. Reviving memories, they fill in those gaps invisible in the earlier work that had shaped her poetic signature.

They also completed Fleur’s voyage of discovery within the frameworks of her immediate past, the genealogical past and the deeper past of New Zealand’s colonial history.

Among many honours Fleur was awarded the Queen’s Medal for Poetry in 2006 and the New Zealand Prime Minister’s award for literary achievement in poetry, 2019.

She is survived by her sons, Gregory and Andrew, six grandchildren, Oliver, Lilian, Julia, Ella, Cait and Rosa, and seven great-grandchildren, Charlie, Ash, Seth, Alexandra, Jean, Ella and Mira Fleur, and by her sister, Marilyn.

• Fleur Adcock, poet, born 10 February 1934; died 10 October 2024