October 2024

Upwards (for Ty Chijioke) after Christopher Gilbert by Raymond Antrobus ' The last place the sun reaches in my garden is the back wall where the ivy grows above the stinging nettles. What are they singing to us? Is it painless to listen? Will music soothe our anxious house? Speech falls on things like rain sun shades all the feelings of having a heart. Here, take my pulse, take my breath, take my arms as I drift off ' Reprinted by permission of Picador from All the Names Given (2021)

Upwards by Raymond Antrobus with Evelyn Glennie

We are delighted to mark Black History Month with a selection of poems by Black poets with close links to the UK, Europe, the United States, Canada, the Caribbean and Africa. The poets include Nobel Prize-winners, poet laureates and performance artists, all reflecting in different ways on their individual experience.

We hope you enjoy the wonderful range, artistry and continued relevance of these poems. All the poems in this collection have been featured on London Underground cars, reaching an estimated three million daily travellers in this most international of cities

We are also pleased to share recordings of many of the poems in our Black History Month Leaflet

You can find our Black History Month Leaflet here

Look out for our autumn poems on London Overground and Underground carriages later in October

Poems Celebrating Black History Month

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

Notes from a Tunisian Journal by Rita Dove This nutmeg stick of a boy in loose trousers! Little coffee pots in the coals, a mint on the tongue. The camels stand in all their vague beauty- at night they fold up like accordions. All the hedges are singing with yellow birds! A boy runs by with lemons in his hands. Food's perfume, breath is nourishment. The stars crumble, salt above eucalyptus fields.

Notes from a Tunisian journal read by Rita Dove

Dream Boogie , Langston Hughes 'Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie-woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely: You’ll hear their feet Beating out and beating out a— You think It’s a happy beat? Listen to it closely: Ain’t you heard something underneath like a— What did I say? Sure, I’m happy! Take it away! Hey, pop! Re-bop! Mop! Y-e-a-h!'

Dream Boogie by Langston Hughes read by Rita Dove

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

On the Thames, Karen McCarthy Woolf ‘The houseboat tilts into the water at low tide, ducklings slip in mud. Nothing is stable in this limbo summer, where he leaves his shoes in the flat.’

On the Thames read by Karen McCarthy Woolf

BOM Mumbai Airport, Nick Makoha 'This far East your thoughts are the edge of the world. It will not be the last time that you walk through a door hoping to return'

BOM Mumbai Airport read by Nick Makoha

Mmenson, Kamau Brathwaite 'Summon now the kings of the forest, horn of the elephant, mournful call of the elephant;'

Mmenson by Kamau Brathwaite read by Nick Makoha

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

By Yourself, Boy. . . (1988-2007) Nat King Cole’s on the TV staring hard at his audience, his hands setting up plays while he sings. Ray Charles said he sang so damn well people forgot how good he was on keys, and I see it now; his right hand stuffs a melody down the grand piano’s throat – that’s the fake – he dribbles the sound down to low notes until you expect the left hand to come in lower. That’s when he breaks mould, hustles his left hand over the right, throws high notes into your ear -crossover, up, swish. Now the trash talk it’s better to be by yourself boy… He smiles like the silent men on my tapes and, suddenly, every move has a name, a sound, a history. Nii Ayikwei Parkes Reprinted by permission of Peepal Tree Press from The Makings of You (2010)

By Yourself Boy read by Nii Ayikwei Parkes

Come. and be my baby ,Maya Angelou 'The highway is full of big cars going nowhere fast And folks is smoking anything that'll burn Some people wrap their lives around a cocktail glass And you sit wondering where you're going to turn. I got it. Come. And be my baby. Some prophets say the world is gonna end tomorrow But others say we've got a week or two The paper is full of every kind of blooming horror And you sit wondering what you're gonna do. I got it. Come. And be my baby.'

Come And Be My Baby by Maya Angelou read by Valerie Bloom

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 Valerie Bloom

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

Bam Chi Chi La La London, 1969, Lorna Goodison ‘In Jamaica she was a teacher. Here, she is charwoman at night in the West End. She eats a cold midnight meal carried from home’
Free, Merle Collins 'Born free to be caught and fashioned and shaped and freed to wander within a caged dream of tears'
Viv, Faustin Charles Like the sun rising and setting Like the thunderous roar of a bull rhino Like the sleek, quick grace of a gazelle,
I Sing of Change Niyi Osundare I sing of the beauty of Athens without its slaves Of a world free of kings and queens and other remnants of an arbitrary past

Poems from September 2024