Alden Carrow's Poetry Podcast

Alden Carrow

🎙️ Step into the world of indie poetry with Alden Carrow — a weekly poetry podcast where every verse has a story, and every story finds its voice. New episodes drop every Wednesday, taking you behind the scenes of the raw, real, and rewarding life of an independent poet, self-published author, and creative entrepreneur. Whether you're a working writer, aspiring self-publisher, spoken word fan, or simply someone who finds magic in words, you'll feel right at home here. What you'll get every week: • Honest conversations about the indie writing life, creative freedom, and the modern poet's journey • Practical tips on self-publishing, book marketing, building an author platform, and growing an audience online • Candid takes on AI for writers — when ChatGPT and AI tools spark creativity, and when they get in the way • Interviews, reflections, and readings that explore craft, creativity, and the poet's mindset • Two original poems per episode: a Guest Poem from the community, plus a featured piece from Alden's acclaimed collections, Cornwall In Verse - Tide To tor In Poetry, Cumbria In Verse - Lakes To Fells In Poetry and North Yorkshire In Verse — Moor To Shore In Poetry, Expect moor mist, sea spray, and the rugged soul of Yorkshire — nature poetry, landscape poetry, and contemporary British verse brought vividly to life. Perfect for fans of: modern poetry, spoken word, indie authors, self-publishing podcasts, creative writing shows, nature writing, British poetry, and podcasts for writers, poets, and creatives. ✍️ Want YOUR favourite poem read on the show? Send it to aldencarrow78@gmail.com and Alden will read it aloud with a personal shout-out, just for you. If you love poetry that's honest, heartfelt, and a little windswept, hit Subscribe — and never miss a verse. Keywords: poetry podcast, indie poetry, spoken word, self-publishing, creative writing, modern poetry, British poetry, nature poetry, Yorkshire poetry, AI for writers, independent authors, poets, writing life.

  1. Some Places Are Not Weathered. They Are Practised. — Byron's Apostrophe to the Ocean, the Cornish Coast at Bude, and What Small Towns Know That Cities Forgot

    4d ago

    Some Places Are Not Weathered. They Are Practised. — Byron's Apostrophe to the Ocean, the Cornish Coast at Bude, and What Small Towns Know That Cities Forgot

    In the autumn of 1817, exiled from England and on the run from a continent's worth of scandal, Lord Byron sat at a desk above the Adriatic and addressed the sea. Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roll! He had watched his reputation collapse, his marriage break, and a society close its doors against him. And in the ocean he found, with something close to relief, a force that had noticed none of it — a force that could not be broken in turn. In this episode, Alden Carrow explores an idea that has sharpened over years of walking the Cornish coast: some places are not weathered. They are practised. The guest poem is Lord Byron's "Apostrophe to the Ocean," the closing movement of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (1818) — by common consent the greatest sea-poetry the Romantic movement produced. Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage: all gone, while the ocean stands unchanged. Man marks the earth with ruin, Byron writes, his control stops with the shore. A wild, almost mocking meditation on the futility of human pretension against something genuinely vast and genuinely indifferent. Alden then reads his own poem, "Bude," a portrait of a north-Cornish town that has made an art of leaning into the gale. Where the breakers crash on Summerleaze and the sea pool is carved in stone and tide, a small community has practised something the rest of England has forgotten: how to stand at the edge, and find joy there. A town that leans into the gale, and finds its strength in every tale. The episode closes with a discussion of the poetry of community — what small coastal towns actually do that great cities have forgotten. The rhythm of shared survival. The visibility of the individual. Why there is no poetry in convenience, and why resilience is not about being untouchable but about being touchable, vulnerable to the elements and to each other, and finding strength in that shared state. Competition Email your guest poem suggestion to aldencarrow78@gmail.com to enter the draw for a personally signed copy of Cornwall In Verse — Tide To Tor In Poetry, sent to you by hand. The next guest poem will come from one of you. New episodes every Wednesday at 6am. Slow down. Listen closely. There is poetry to be found. Some places are not weathered. They are practised.

    27 min
  2. Solitude Is Not a Punishment. It Is an Instrument. — W. B. Yeats's Stolen Child, the Cornish Island of Bryher, and the Quiet Art of Being Alone

    Jun 3

    Solitude Is Not a Punishment. It Is an Instrument. — W. B. Yeats's Stolen Child, the Cornish Island of Bryher, and the Quiet Art of Being Alone

    On a rocky water-edge in County Sligo, a young William Butler Yeats hears voices on the wind. They are not human voices. They are the faeries of Irish folklore, and they are calling a human child away — out of his mother's house, into the wild lakes and woods and waters, beyond the reach of a world that has grown too noisy with its grief. Come away, O human child, they sing, four times across the poem, for the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. In this episode, Alden Carrow asks what it means to choose solitude — not as a wound, not as a punishment, but as an instrument we can learn to play. The guest poem is "The Stolen Child" by W. B. Yeats (1886), written when the poet was only twenty-one — a piece that announces his whole career to come. It draws on the genuine fear of changelings in Irish folk tradition, then turns the story inside out by letting the faeries speak the poem themselves. The result is one of the most musical and morally ambiguous summonses-to-elsewhere in English verse. Is the calling-away a horror or a mercy? Yeats refuses, beautifully, to tell us. Alden then reads his own poem, "Bryher," a portrait of a small Cornish island where the waves strike hard on Hell Bay's shore and a single cottage holds its ground against the western swell. Where Yeats's child is called away, Bryher is the destination — the wild place that has chosen itself, where the wind writes verses on the sand and solitude becomes a choice. The episode closes with a practical discussion every writer and reader will recognise: the writing retreat. Why poets from Wordsworth at Grasmere to Dylan Thomas at Laugharne have always sought islands. How to construct a productive solitude, whether a week away or an hour each morning. And what solitude, properly practised, can give back to the work. Competition Email your guest poem suggestion to aldencarrow78@gmail.com to enter the draw for a personally signed copy of Cornwall In Verse — Tide To Tor In Poetry, sent to you by hand. The next guest poem will come from one of you. New episodes every Wednesday at 6am. Slow down. Listen closely. There is poetry to be found. Solitude is not a punishment. It is an instrument.

    24 min
  3. Some Places Do Not Raise Their Voices: Thomas Gray's Country Churchyard, Bodmin Moor, and the Quiet Art of Listening to History

    May 27

    Some Places Do Not Raise Their Voices: Thomas Gray's Country Churchyard, Bodmin Moor, and the Quiet Art of Listening to History

    In a country churchyard at the close of the eighteenth century, a poet stops at a moss-covered headstone and reads a name no one has spoken aloud in a hundred years. The curfew tolls. The village dead sleep on beneath unread inscriptions. And Thomas Gray, looking down at the rude forefathers of the hamlet, makes one of the quietest, gravest claims in English poetry: that beneath these obscure stones may lie a mute inglorious Milton, a village Hampden, a Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. Greatness, he insists, is not the same as recognition. In this episode, Alden Carrow asks what it means to listen to places that have never asked to be heard. The guest poem is "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard" by Thomas Gray (1751), one of the great works of English poetry — a meditation on obscurity, dignity, and the buried lives that history declines to name. A poem that taught two centuries of readers how to stand quietly in a small place and pay attention to what is no longer speaking. Alden then reads his own poem, "Bodmin," a portrait of a Cornish moorland town where the chapel bell and the prison gate still stand within sight of one another, and the past has not finished happening. The 1549 Prayer Book Rebellion marched out of these granite streets. Saints and smugglers walked them. The railway has gone quiet but the air has not. The granite walls hold tales unsaid. The episode closes with a practical discussion for any poet, novelist, or local historian: how to research the history of a place before writing about it. Parish records, county archives, local history societies, the literature of unglamorous documentation. Because the moor will not tell you its stories unless you have earned the right to ask. Competition Email your guest poem suggestion to aldencarrow78@gmail.com to enter the draw for a personally signed copy of Cornwall In Verse — Tide To Tor In Poetry, sent to you by hand. The next guest poem will come from one of you. New episodes every Wednesday at 6am. Slow down. Listen closely. There is poetry to be found. Some places do not raise their voices. They simply keep speaking.

    27 min
  4. The Surface Is a Lie: Tennyson’s Kraken, Buttermere’s Depths, and the Hidden Truths of a Poet’s Life

    May 13

    The Surface Is a Lie: Tennyson’s Kraken, Buttermere’s Depths, and the Hidden Truths of a Poet’s Life

    In this must‑listen episode of Alden Carrow’s Poetry Podcast, Alden descends beneath the bright surface of things — from Tennyson’s abyssal Kraken to the steep, enclosing walls of Buttermere. Guided by the theme “the surface is a lie that holds the light,” Alden explores what lies beneath the calm, polished appearances we trust: the millennial darkness of the deep sea, the silted cold of a Lakeland lake, and the hidden pressures beneath a poet’s working life. The episode opens with Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s “The Kraken,” a listener‑requested guest poem that plunges into the ancient, dreamless depths where truth sleeps far below the reach of sunlight. Alden then shares his own poem “Buttermere,” written during a storm‑struck autumn walk in a valley where beauty, geology, and a quiet history of imposture all press against the surface at once. In the second half, Alden turns to the unseen labour of submitting to literary journals — the long silences, the sediment of rejection, and the patient, necessary work that happens out of sight. For emerging poets, this is a rare, honest guide to surviving the depths without losing heart. And as always, listeners are invited to take part in the ongoing competition: email a poem you’d love to hear featured in a future episode to aldencarrow78@gmail.com, and you’ll be entered into the draw to win a signed copy of Cumbria In Verse — Lakes To Fells In Poetry. Settle in. Slow down. There is light on the surface — but the truth is waiting beneath it.

    24 min
  5. The Mountain Needs No Audience. The Poem Does. — Coleridge's Frost at Midnight, Skiddaw in the Dark, and Why Open Mic Nights Matter

    May 6

    The Mountain Needs No Audience. The Poem Does. — Coleridge's Frost at Midnight, Skiddaw in the Dark, and Why Open Mic Nights Matter

    In a small cottage in Nether Stowey, on a frozen February night in 1798, Samuel Taylor Coleridge sits beside his sleeping infant son and listens. The frost is performing its secret ministry, unhelped by any wind. The world is asleep. The world does not know it is being watched. In this episode, Alden Carrow asks the question that haunts every poet who has ever stood before something older than themselves: the mountain needs no audience — but does the poem? The guest poem is "Frost at Midnight" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1798), one of the great masterpieces of conversation poetry. It is a meditation on silence, solitude, and the strange comfort of seeking ourselves in the natural world — frost forming on windows, a film fluttering on a grate, a sleeping child whose future life Coleridge dreams beneath the crags of ancient mountain. A poem about presence, lineage, and the divine indifference of the world's quiet labour. Alden then reads his own poem, "Skiddaw," a portrait of one of the Lake District's oldest fells — a mountain of dark Ordovician mudstone, five hundred million years old, snapping quietly in the dark whether anyone is there to witness it or not. The summit erased by cloud. The visible world compressed to a radius of wet moss. The geology breaking under its own indifferent gravity. The episode closes with a discussion every poet and creative will recognise: live readings, open mic nights, and the necessity of the audience. Why do we gather in the back rooms of pubs, in drafty village halls, in hushed libraries to read our words aloud? Because poetry began as breath, as voice, as rhythm shared in a lit room. The mountain may be content with its solitude. The human soul craves a witness to its own internal fractures. Competition Email your guest poem suggestion to aldencarrow78@gmail.com to enter the draw for a personally signed copy of Cumbria In Verse — Lakes To Fells In Poetry, sent to you by hand. The next guest poem will come from one of you. New episodes every Wednesday at 6am. Slow down. Listen closely. There is poetry to be found.

    24 min
  6. The Gale of Life: Housman's Wenlock Edge, Ambleside in the Rain, and Why a Poet's Mailing List Outlasts the Algorithm

    Apr 29

    The Gale of Life: Housman's Wenlock Edge, Ambleside in the Rain, and Why a Poet's Mailing List Outlasts the Algorithm

    On Wenlock Edge, the wood is in trouble. The Wrekin heaves under the gale, and A. E. Housman watches a wind so ancient it once tore through a Roman city — a city now lying in ashes beneath the same hill. Two thousand years of human trouble, and the wind has not noticed. In this episode, Alden Carrow walks from the Shropshire ridge to the heart of the Lake District, asking the same question Housman asked: what stays, and what passes? The guest poem is "On Wenlock Edge" from Housman's A Shropshire Lad (1896). It is a poem about deep time and stoic endurance, where the gale of life blows through every generation in turn — Roman soldier, English yeoman, the listener tonight — while the landscape itself remains. The Roman and his trouble are ashes under Uricon, but the wind still plies the saplings double. A masterclass in the small terror of being briefly here. Alden then reads his own poem, "Ambleside," a portrait of a Lakeland town caught between commerce and weather — Gore-Tex mannequins standing guard against simulated storms while Stock Ghyll thunders darkly under the floorboards. The fells lean in to confiscate the light. The town is left to count the inventory. The basin drinks the night. The episode closes with a practical conversation for any creative working today: the case for building an email newsletter and a mailing list. Social media is the inventory — transient, algorithmic, weather-prone. A mailing list is the landscape: a direct relationship with readers that no platform can interrupt, no algorithm can throttle, no rebrand can erase. Alden makes the case for sovereignty, rhythm, authenticity, and building something that outlasts the digital churn. Competition Email your guest poem suggestion to aldencarrow78@gmail.com and you will be entered into the draw to win a personally signed copy of Cumbria In Verse — Lakes To Fells In Poetry, sent to you by hand. Further competitions will follow in upcoming episodes — keep listening, and keep suggesting. New episodes every Wednesday at 6am. Slow down. Listen closely. There is poetry to be found. The Roman is ashes under Uricon. The wind is still here. So are we.

    18 min
  7. The Sea Is Merely Late: Hardy's Darkling Thrush, Grange-over-Sands, and the Poet's Permanent Address

    Apr 22

    The Sea Is Merely Late: Hardy's Darkling Thrush, Grange-over-Sands, and the Poet's Permanent Address

    The sea left Grange-over-Sands quietly — season by season, the tide lost interest, the Spartina grass crept in, and a town built on the Victorian promise of salt air was left standing on its promenade, stiff-collared, looking out at a marsh where the water used to be. It is still waiting. In this episode, Alden Carrow explores the peculiar dignity of things that refuse to admit they are finished. The guest poem is Thomas Hardy's The Darkling Thrush, written on the last day of the 19th century — a frost-hardened elegy for a dying age, interrupted by one aged, blast-beruffled bird who flings his soul upon the growing gloom for reasons the poet cannot fathom. A masterclass in atmosphere, and in the stubborn refusal of silence. Alden then reads his own poem, Grange-over-Sands, a portrait of a Cumbrian coastal town where the coast has moved miles away, yet the villas keep their posture and pretend the sea is merely late. The episode closes with a practical conversation every poet needs to have: why an author website matters in an age of fleeting digital noise. Social media platforms are rented rooms where the landlord can change the locks overnight. A website is your red sandstone villa — your permanent address, your hearth, your promenade. Alden makes the case for centralised archives, direct newsletters, multimedia storytelling, and building something that outlasts the algorithm. Competition Email your guest poem suggestion to aldencarrow78@gmail.com and you'll be entered into the draw to win a personally signed copy of Cumbria In Verse — Lakes To Fells In Poetry. A real book, signed by hand, sent directly to you. Further competitions are coming in future episodes, so keep listening and keep suggesting. New episodes every Wednesday at 6am. Start the week slowly. Start it with poetry. The sea may have retreated. But we are still here, still watching, still finding the words.

    25 min

About

🎙️ Step into the world of indie poetry with Alden Carrow — a weekly poetry podcast where every verse has a story, and every story finds its voice. New episodes drop every Wednesday, taking you behind the scenes of the raw, real, and rewarding life of an independent poet, self-published author, and creative entrepreneur. Whether you're a working writer, aspiring self-publisher, spoken word fan, or simply someone who finds magic in words, you'll feel right at home here. What you'll get every week: • Honest conversations about the indie writing life, creative freedom, and the modern poet's journey • Practical tips on self-publishing, book marketing, building an author platform, and growing an audience online • Candid takes on AI for writers — when ChatGPT and AI tools spark creativity, and when they get in the way • Interviews, reflections, and readings that explore craft, creativity, and the poet's mindset • Two original poems per episode: a Guest Poem from the community, plus a featured piece from Alden's acclaimed collections, Cornwall In Verse - Tide To tor In Poetry, Cumbria In Verse - Lakes To Fells In Poetry and North Yorkshire In Verse — Moor To Shore In Poetry, Expect moor mist, sea spray, and the rugged soul of Yorkshire — nature poetry, landscape poetry, and contemporary British verse brought vividly to life. Perfect for fans of: modern poetry, spoken word, indie authors, self-publishing podcasts, creative writing shows, nature writing, British poetry, and podcasts for writers, poets, and creatives. ✍️ Want YOUR favourite poem read on the show? Send it to aldencarrow78@gmail.com and Alden will read it aloud with a personal shout-out, just for you. If you love poetry that's honest, heartfelt, and a little windswept, hit Subscribe — and never miss a verse. Keywords: poetry podcast, indie poetry, spoken word, self-publishing, creative writing, modern poetry, British poetry, nature poetry, Yorkshire poetry, AI for writers, independent authors, poets, writing life.