June 2025

Daughter by Mosab Abu Toha

Daughter I ask her to remember, not because I want to hear the story again, but because I want to watch her face relive the moment. That moment, her eyes sparkle with longing, I can see how she flies from the tent to a time when she leapt through our farm in every direction with eyes closed, only stopping at the fence, where our orange trees embrace our neighbours’ olive trees. Some fallen oranges would tell her to open her eyes, to pick them up and put them in a plate at our doorstep, where children returning from school would stop to gulp some. I love the smell of oranges best when she remembers. Mosab Abu Toha Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins from Forest of Noise (4th Estate 2024)

The summer Poems on the Underground go live on Underground and Overground trains on June 2^nd with poems by the British-Nigerian poet Dr. Gboyega Odubanjo, the South Korean poet Jeongrye Choi ,Chinese poet Po Chu-i’, Palestinian poet Mosab Abu Toha, William Shakespeare and Young Poet on the Underground, Anna Gilmore Heezen

This month we also feature poems to celebrate Windrush Day to mark the 77^th anniversary of the arrival of the Windrush in Britain, bringing men, women and children from the Caribbean to help rebuild a war-ravaged country.

New Poems on the Underground

Our summer poems are an international set linked by common themes with universal appeal. All six poems address the relationship of human life to the natural world, as it unfolds in ‘sea and sky and trees’.

Daughter by Mosab Abu Toha

Daughter I ask her to remember, not because I want to hear the story again, but because I want to watch her face relive the moment. That moment, her eyes sparkle with longing, I can see how she flies from the tent to a time when she leapt through our farm in every direction with eyes closed, only stopping at the fence, where our orange trees embrace our neighbours’ olive trees. Some fallen oranges would tell her to open her eyes, to pick them up and put them in a plate at our doorstep, where children returning from school would stop to gulp some. I love the smell of oranges best when she remembers. Mosab Abu Toha Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins from Forest of Noise (4th Estate 2024)

Genesis by Gboyega Odubanjo

Genesis then god said let me make man in my image man in my likeness man like me man like light and man like dark let man nyam and chop whatever be good god said give man arm to skank leg to shake tongue and chest to speak with give man cash to spray put man’s face on it said give man sea and sky and trees and zones one to six on the oyster so man can see it now man said rah swear down man said show me Gboyega Odubanjo Reprinted by permission of Faber & Faber from Adam (2024) © The Estate of Gboyega Odubanjo, 2024

Forest by Jeongrye Choi

Forest Does the path leading to one tree go like this to another? Does it finally arrive at all the ultimate trees? The ideal beauty of one tree is so much like that of another. No end and no beginning. Green quivering for a moment— whose shadow are you? Jeongrye Choi Reprinted by permission of Parlor Press from Instances: Selected Poems translated by Brenda Hillman, Wayne de Fremery and Jeongrye Choi (2011)

from A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare

from A Midsummer Night’s Dream I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine. There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, Lull’d in these flowers with dances and delight; And there the snake throws her enamell’d skin, Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in. William Shakespeare

The Red Cockatoo by Po Chu-I

The Red Cockatoo Sent as a present from Annam – A red cockatoo. Coloured like the peach-tree blossom, Speaking with the speech of men. And they did to it what is always done To the learned and eloquent. They took a cage with stout bars And shut it up inside. Po Chu-i Translated by Arthur Waley Reprinted by permission of Estate of Arthur Waley. Calligraphy by Qu Lei Lei

Pane by Anna Gilmore Heezen

Pane No creature feels August’s restlessness more I thought, than a housefly. Across the room it had taken a wrong turn from the syrupy sunshine outside. I watched it butt its head against the glass, watched it beat against the window’s smooth glass chest, wring its hands in bewilderment, try again, fall to the sill, stunned, get up and do it again. Unable to watch its stubborn struggle anymore, I got a plastic cup, gently caught the little black firework before it fizzed itself out, watched it sink up into the sky like a coin in a public fountain. Perhaps God will guide me a few inches to the left too, I thought. When it was gone, I looked up through the branches and glimpsed blue. Anna Gilmore Heezen Young Poets on the Underground

Poems Celebrating Windrush Day

John Agard, ‘Windrush Child’ (for Vince Reid, the youngest passenger on the Windrush, then aged 13)

Windrush Child (for Vince Reid, at 13 the youngest passenger on the Empire Windrush) Behind you Windrush child palm trees wave goodbye above you Windrush child seabirds asking why around you Windrush child blue water rolling by beside you Windrush child your Windrush mum and dad think of storytime yard and mango mornings and new beginnings doors closing and opening John Agard Reprinted by permission of Bloodaxe Books from Alternative Anthem: Selected Poems (2009)

Dew, Kwame Dawes ' This morning I took the dew from the broad leaf of the breadfruit tree, and washed the sleep from my eyes.

Dew read by Kwame Dawes

dreamer, Jean Binta Breeze 'roun a rocky corner by de sea seat up pon a drif wood yuh can fine she gazin cross de water a stick eena her han tryin to trace a future in de san'

Dreamer by Jean Binta Breeze read by Kwame Dawes

Dei Miracole by Lemn Sissay ' The spirit of structure can’t be foreseen, For somewhere between The architecture and the dream More than the sum of its parts Somehow, somewhere, the heart.' Copyright Listener by Lemn Sissay, 2008. First published in Great Britain by Canongate Books Ltd.

Dei Miracole read by Lemn Sissay

And if I speak of Paradise, Roger Robinson ‘And if I speak of Paradise then I’m speaking of my grandmother who told me to carry it always on my person, concealed, so no one else would know but me.’

Imtiaz Dharker reading A Portable Paradise by Roger Robinson

Benediction, James Berry 'Thanks to the ear that someone may hear Thanks to seeing that someone may see'

James Berry reading Benediction

I am Becoming My Mother, Lorna Goodison ' Yellow/brown woman fingers smelling always of onions My mother raises rare blooms and waters them with tea'

I Am Becoming My Mother by Lorna Goodison read by Valerie Bloom

Sun a-shine, rain a-fall, Valerie Bloom 'Sun a-shine, rain a-fall, The Devil an' him wife cyan 'gree at all, The two o'them want one fish-head, The Devil call him wife bonehead, She hiss her teeth, call him cock-eye, Greedy, worthless an 'workshy, While them busy callin' name, The puss walk in, sey is a shame To see a nice fish go to was'e, Lef' with a big grin pon him face.'

Sun A-Shine read by Valerie Bloom

Colonization in Reverse Wat a joyful news, Miss Mattie, I feel like me heart gwine burs’ Jamaica people colonizin Englan in reverse. By de hundred, by de t’ousan From country and from town, By de ship-load, by de plane-load Jamaica is Englan bound. Dem a-pour out o’ Jamaica, Everybody future plan Is fe get a big-time job An settle in de mother lan. What a islan! What a people! Man an woman, old an young Jusa pack dem bag and baggage An tun history upside dung! Louise Bennett © Louise Bennett 1966 from Jamaica Labrish (Sangsters, 1966)

Colonization in Reverse by Louise Bennett read by Valerie Bloom

The London Breed I love dis great polluted place Where pop stars come to live their dreams Here ravers come for drum and bass And politicians plan their schemes, The music of the world is here Dis city can play any song They came to here from everywhere Tis they that made dis city strong. A world of food displayed on streets Where all the world can come and dine On meals that end with bitter sweets And cultures melt and intertwine, Two hundred languages give voice To fifteen thousand changing years And all religions can rejoice With exiled souls and pioneers. Benjamin Zephaniah Reprinted by permission of Bloodaxe Books from Too Black Too Strong (2001)

The London Breed by Benjamin Zephaniah read by Valerie Bloom

Rising, Jean Binta Breeze having some summers gone dug out that old tree stump that darkened my garden having waited without planting (for it was impossible then to choose the growth) having lost the dream but not the art of healing having released the roots of pain into content I now stir the skies

rising by Jean Binta Breeze read by Valerie Bloom

from We Refugees We can all be refugees Sometimes it only takes a day, Sometimes it only takes a handshake Or a paper that is signed. We all came from refugees Nobody simply just appeared, Nobody’s here without a struggle, And why should we live in fear Of the weather or the troubles? We all came here from somewhere Benjamin Zephaniah from We Refugees Reprinted by permission of Penguin Books Limited from Wicked World (Puffin, 2000).

We Refugees by Benjamin Zephaniah read by Nii Ayikwei Parkes

A song for England, Andrew Salkey. Poems on the Underground poster 1991 'An' a so de rain a-fall An' a so de snow a-rain An' a so de fog a-fall An' a so de sun a-fail An' a so de seasons mix An' a so de bag-o'-tricks But a so me understan' De misery o' de Englishman.

A Song for England by Andrew Salkey read by Jason Salkey

Like A Beacon, Grace Nichols 2009 Poster 'In London every now and then I get this craving for my mother’s food I leave art galleries in search of plantains saltfish/sweet potatoes I need this link I need this touch of home swinging my bag like a beacon against the cold'

Like a Beacon by Grace Nichols read by Valerie Bloom

James Berry, ‘Sea-Song One’

Sea-Song One Come on Seawash of travel Expose new layers of skin Come on calm voice of sea Come and settle on land Sea’s tumble wash Change our rags for riches Come on – tumble wash of sea Clear away the bloody waters Clear away the bloody waters James Berry Reprinted by permission of Bloodaxe Books from Windrush Songs, reprinted in A Story I Am In: Selected Poems (2011)

Kei Miller, ‘The only thing far away’

The only thing far away In this country, Jamaica is not quite as far as you might think. Walking through Peckham in London, West Moss Road in Manchester, you pass green and yellow shops where tie-headwomen bargain over the price of dasheen. And beside Jamaica is Spain selling large yellow peppers, lemon to squeeze onto chicken. Beside Spain is Pakistan, then Egypt, Singapore, the world. . . here, strangers build home together, flood the ports with curry and papayas; in Peckham and on Moss Road, the place smells of more than just patty or tandoori. It smells like Mumbai, like Castries, like Princess Street, Jamaica. Sometimes in this country, the only thing far away is this country. Kei Miller Reprinted by permission of Carcanet from There Is an Anger That Moves (2007)

Grace Nichols, ‘Bourda’

Bourda Marvel again at the market stalls singing the earth’s abundance in the heaped-up homegrown freshness of their own vernacular favoured names. Not Aubergine but Balanjay Not Spinach but Calaloo Not Green-beans but Bora Not Chilli but Bird-pepper And not just any mango but the one crowned, Buxton Spice, Still hiding its ambrosia in the roof of my mouth, still flowering like the bird-picked mornings on the branches of my memory. Grace Nichols Reprinted by permission of Bloodaxe Books from Passport to Here and There (2020)

Beacon of Hope (for John La Rose)by Linton Kwesi Johnson

from Beacon of Hope (for John La Rose) by Linton Kwesi Johnson ' welcome nocturnal friend I name you beacon of hope tonight fear fades to oblivion as you guide us beyond the stars to a new horizon tomorrow a stranger will enter my hut my cave my cool cavern of gloom I will give him bread he will bring good news from afar I will give him water he will bring a gift of light'

Love poems on the Underground

Celia Celia and Goodbye, Adrian Mitchell ' When I am sad and weary, When I think all hope has gone, When I walk along High Holborn I think of you with nothing on'

First Fig, Edna St. Vincent Millay 'My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night; But ah! my foes, and oh, my friends - It gives a lovely light!'

A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns Poems on the Underground 1992 poster 'O my Luve's like a red, red rose, That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve's like the melodie That’s sweetly play'd in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I; And I will love thee still, my Dear, Till a’ the seas gang dry. Till a’ the seas gang dry, my Dear, And the rocks melt wi’ the sun: O I will love thee still, my Dear, While the sands o’ life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only Luve! And fare thee weel, a while! And I will come again, my Luve, Tho' it were ten thousand mile!'

Sea Love, Charlotte Mew 'Tide be runnin' the great world over: T'was only last June month I mind that we Was thinkin' the toss and the call in the breast of the lover So everlastin' as the sea. Heer's the same little fishes that sputter and swim, Wi' the moon's old glim on the grey, wet sand; An' him no more to me nor me to him Than the wind goin' over my hand.'

Personal Column, Basil Bunting '...As to my heart, that may as well be forgotten or labelled: Owner will dispose of same to a good home, refs. exchgd., h.&c., previous experience desired but not essential or let on a short lease to suit convenience.'

To Althea, from Prison Richard Lovelace 'When Love with unconfinèd wings Hovers within my Gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the Grates; When I lie tangled in her hair, And fettered to her eye, The Gods that wanton in the Air, Know no such Liberty.'

Poems from May 2025