Mrs Wilkie, from Nowra in NSW, will launch her third anthology - The Eye Beholding - in September, with an 'adventurous' event made possible by her fellow Kitchen Table Poets, mentor Chris Mansell, and her family.

Having full-on launch event is a whole new world for the poet who once thought she would never write a book.

But Mrs Wilkie said the her fellow writers, along with her family, have encouraged her to celebrate her latest body of work in a big way.

"They've been really lovely in supporting me, telling me what to do with the internet and who to contact at the library - all of this stuff," she said.

"Without them, I wouldn't be as adventurous as I am with the book."

Since taking up writing at age 70, Mrs Wilkie has published three books of poetry - though the now 93-year-old has surely written enough to fill many more.

At home she can often be found scribbling verses in a notebook, fuelled by endless cups of tea made by her husband, who is also her biggest fan.

Writing poetry was initially a way to keep herself occupied in retirement; in another life she was a primary school teacher.

Over the decades her writing has continued to develop, and Mrs Wilkie said poetry has shifted her outlook.

"I think life would have been pretty empty if I hadn't [taken up poetry], I would have been just a housewife," she said.

"I was a bit gauche when I started, so I think now I'm more introspective and try to look for the deeper meanings in things.

"Especially as you get older and you're facing you-know-what, it sort of changes your attitude to everything. You appreciate people a lot more.

"Anybody, in whatever circumstance, you appreciate them far more than you did when you started - or when I first started."

Irene Wilkie will launch her new book, The Eye Beholding, on Friday, September 14 at Nowra Library. The event starts at 11am.

Later this year, Mrs Wilkie will also make her first festival appearance at the Berry Writers' Festival.

Below is an excerpt from The Eye Beholding:

Pebble

This pebble, worn smooth

a shape ground down

from angularity

through boisterous rolling

over and over

at the whim

of region, time and weather,

changed in the hot squeeze

of earth's grinding plates

far beneath the sky's watch,

old as earth and older,

atoms rearranged,

has travelled

mute,

unresisting

to rest in my impermanent hand

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