This Month’s Poems

March 2026

Poems on the Underground Celebrated its 40th Anniversary in January with a reading at Bank station.

These are some of the poems chosen and read by Poems on the Underground poets and colleagues from TfL

The Snow is Melting by Kobayashi Issa

The snow is melting and the village is flooded with children. Kobayashi Issa translated by Robert Hass Calligraphy by Yukki Yaura Reprinted by permission of Bloodaxe Books from The Essential Haiku: Versions of Basho, Buson and Issa, tr. Robert Hass (Bloodaxe Books, 2013)

A Short Piece of Choral Music by Jonathan Davidson

A Short Piece of Choral Music It’s an evening in late March and in the kitchen I’m listening to a short piece of choral music, when my son comes in to fetch himself a bowl of breakfast cereal which, he tells me, helps with his revision. And another thing, he goes on, I shouldn’t worry about him because he’s going to be fine: exams, work, life, everything, is going to be fine. That’s a relief, I say to myself, thanks, now I can listen to this music, which turns out to be just some fancy noise, nothing compared with a boy’s cheerfulness. Jonathan Davidson Reprinted by permission of The Poetry Business from Early Train (Smith/Doorstop 2011)

Syzygy by Rachael Boast

Syzygy A desire for a house with a glass roof made me get up and walk the streets at four in the morning. The full moon was looking as if she’d passed a loaded remark at some conference that was drawing to a close. How strange for the world to have turned and be facing the other way again. Why do we sleep through these great rotations? The night sky sometimes likes a good conversation and gives me plenty of time to speak before thinking. Rachael Boast Reprinted by permission of Pan Macmillan from Sidereal (Picador 2011)

Myopic Painter by Mircea Dinescu

Myopic painter Many a madman has imagined himself a general and some have even become one, the myopic decorator of Easter eggs may one day paint a church and it’s not impossible that a comet will later crash into its steeple and cry out, ‘Christ is risen’ just as you who swear you love me may once upon a time even come to love me. Mircea Dinescu translated by Adam J. Sorkin and Lidia Vianu Reprinted by permission of Bloodaxe Books from The Barbarians’ Return (2018)

Da Capo by Jane Hirshfield

Da Capo Take the used-up heart like a pebble and throw it far out. Soon there is nothing left. Soon the last ripple exhausts itself in the weeds. Returning home, slice carrots, onions, celery. Glaze them in oil before adding the lentils, water, and herbs. Then the roasted chestnuts, a little pepper, the salt. Finish with goat cheese and parsley. Eat. You may do this, I tell you, it is permitted. Begin again the story of your life. Jane Hirshfield Reprinted by permission of Bloodaxe Books from The Asking: New & Selected Poems (Bloodaxe Books, 2024)

Narcissus by Blake Morrison

Narcissus Thinking the boiler had packed up from lack of oil I climbed the rusty tank to peer down the hatch and there I was, bright-faced and young again, in the viscous black pool at the bottom. Blake Morrison Reprinted by permission of Chatto & Windus from Shingle Street (2015)

Seamus Heaney The Railway Children

The Railway Children, Seamus Heaney ' When we climbed the slopes of the cutting We were eye-level with the white cups Of the telegraph poles and the sizzling wires.' '

Imtiaz Dharker Carving

World Poems on the Underground Carving , Imtiaz Dharkar. Others can carve out their space in tombs and pyramids

Brian O’Connor Spooner Goes Under

Spooner Goes Under, Brian O’Connor ‘Stamp Head Wedge Air Stooge Greet Shammer Myth Flak Briars Straker Beat’

Jason Salkey A Song for England by Andrew Salkey

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.

Nick Makoha BOM Mumbai Airport

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'

Elizabeth Cook Bowl

Bowl by Elizabeth Cook Give me a bowl, wide and shallow. Patient to light as a landscape open to the whole weight of a deepening sky. Give me a bowl which turns for ever on a curve so gentle a child could bear it and beasts lap fearless at its low rim.' Poems on the Underground Reprinted by permission of Worple Press from Bowl (2006)

Rudyard Kipling A Dead Statesman

A Dead Statesman, Rudyard Kipling 'I could not dig: I dared not rob: Therefore I lied to please the mob. Now all my lies are proved untrue And I must face the men I slew. What tale shall serve me here among Mine angry and defrauded young?'

Danielle Hope  The Thunderbolt’s Training Manual

The Thunderbolt’s Training Manual, Danielle Hope ‘Choose a soporific afternoon. As sunbathers doze, saturday papers abandoned.’

Marina Tsvetaeva I know the truth

1915 I Know the Truth - Give up All Other Truths! , Marina Tsvetayeva (1892-1941) translated by Elaine Feinstein 'I know the truth - give up all other truths! No need for people anywhere on earth to struggle. Look - it is evening, look, it is nearly night: what do you speak of, poets, lovers, generals? The wind is level now, the earth is wet with dew, the storm of stars in the sky will turn to quiet. And soon all of us will sleep under the earth, we who never let each other sleep above it. '

Kit Wright Sergeant Brown’s Parrot

Sergeant Brown’s Parrot, Kit Wright 'Many policemen wear upon their shoulders Cunning little radios. To pass away the time They talk about the traffic to them, listen to the news, And it helps them to Keep Down Crime. But Sergeant Brown, he wears upon his shoulder A tall green parrot as he's walking up and down And all the parrot says is "Who's-a-pretty-boy-then?" "I am," says Sergeant Brown.'

Valerie Bloom  Sun A Shine

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.'

Patience Agbabi The London Eye

The London Eye, Patience Agbabi 'Through my gold-tinted Gucci sunglasses, the sightseers. Big Ben's quarter chime strikes the convoy of number 12 buses that bleeds into the city's monochrome. Through somebody's zoom lens, me shouting to you, "Hello...on...bridge...'minster!' The aerial view postcard, the man writing squat words like black cabs in rush hour. The South Bank buzzes with a rising treble. You kiss my cheek, formal as a blind date. We enter Cupid's Capsule, a thought bubble where I think, 'Space age!', you think 'She was late.' Big Ben strikes six, my SKIN. Beat blinks, replies 18.02. We're moving anti-clockwise.'

The Present by Michael Donaghy

The Present by Michael Donaghy Poems on the Underground 2001 ' For the present there is just one moon, though every level pond gives back another .But the bright disc shining in the black lagoon, perceived by astrophysicist and lover ,is milliseconds old. And even that light's seven minutes older than its source. And the stars we think we see on moonless nights are long extinguished. And, of course, this very moment, as you read this line, is literally gone before you know it. Forget the here-and-now. We have no time but this device of wantonness and wit. Make me this present then: your hand in mine, and we'll live out our lives in it.'

Lewis Corry 2013, and Daedalus never moved away for work

2013, and Daedalus never moved away for work bike-strung boy sun-licked spark of rubber and steel you soar down the driveway arms spread like wings it is a wonderful thing to fly and there is no greater occasion than being alive Lewis Corry Young Poets on the Underground

Ayesha Kundi 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)

Sonja Cheraita Tides by Jenny Joseph

Tides by Jenny Joseph 'There are some coasts Where the sea comes in spectacularly Throwing itself up gullies, challenging cliffs, Filling the harbours with great swirls and flourish, A theatrical event that people gather for Curtain up twice daily. You need to know The hour of its starting, you have to be on guard. There are other places Places where you do not really notice The gradual stretch of the fertile silk of water No gurgling or dashings here, no froth no pounding Only at some point the echo may sound different And looking by chance one sees ‘Oh the tide is in.’

Paul  Williams On May Morning by John Milton

Song: On May Morning, John Milton Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail bounteous May that dost inspire Mirth and youth and warm desire! Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.'

Innocent Obio And Now Goodbye Jaroslav Seifert

World Poems on the Underground And now goodbye, Jaroslav Seifert. Poetry is with us from the start.

Old English Riddle by Gerard Benson

Old English Riddle, Anon, Tr. Gerard Benson 'A moth, I thought, munching a word. How marvellously weird! a worm Digesting a man's sayings - A sneakthief nibbling in the shadows At the shape of a poet`s thunderous phrases - How unutterably strange! And the pilfering parasite none the wiser For the words he has swallowed.'

Everything Changes by Cicely Herbert

Everything Changes, after Brecht Alles wandelt sich ,Cicely Herbert ‘ Alles wandelt sich. Neu beginnen Kannst du mit dem letzten Atemzug. Aber was geschehen, ist geschehen. Und das Wasser Das du in den Wein gossest, kannst du Nicht mehr herausschütten. Was geschehen, ist geschehen. Das Wasser Das du in den Wein gossest, kannst du Nicht mehr herausschütten, aber Alles wandelt sich. Neu beginnen Kannst du mit dem letzten Atemzug. Everything changes. We plant trees for those born later but what’s happened has happened, and poisons poured into the seas cannot be drained out again. What’s happened has happened. Poisons poured into the seas cannot be drained out again’, but everything changes. We plant trees for those born later.'

New Poems February 2026

New Poems Autumn 2025

New Poems Summer 2025

New Poems Spring 2025

Poems from February 2026

Poems from January 2026

Poems from 2025

Poems from 2024

poems from 2023

poems from 2022

poems from 2021

Poems from 2020

Love Poems Leaflet

February Poems Leaflet

War Poems on the Underground leaflet

Poems on the Underground at the Scottish Poetry Library