This Month’s Poems

This month we feature our summer sets of poems from 2021-2026

Summer Poems on the Underground 2026

‘Song’ by William Shakespeare from The Merchant of Venice, III.2.63

Song Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourishèd? Reply, reply. It is engendered in the eyes, With gazing fed; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies Let us all ring fancy’s knell: I’ll begin it: Ding, dong, bell. Ding, dong, bell. The Merchant of Venice, III.2.63 William Shakespeare

Summer 2021

We mark 35 years of Poems on the Underground with a summer set of poems by an international range of poets.

Remembering Summer by W.S. Merwin

Remembering Summer, W.S. Merwin ‘Being too warm the old lady said to me is better than being too cold I think now in between is the best because you never give it a thought but it goes by too fast I remember the winter how cold it got I could never get warm wherever I was but I don’t remember the summer heat like that only the long days the breathing of the trees the evenings with the hens still talking in the lane and the light getting longer in the valley the sound of a bell from down there somewhere I can sit here now still listening to it’

Her Glasses by Pascale Petit

Her Glasses, Pascale Petit ‘My grandmother’s glasses are a greenhouse behind which luxurious flowers grow, species I will never name, or find again. Her last glance back at her childhood jungle trembles there, watered by monsoons but I have never seen her cry. She closed the glass doors as I said goodbye. She waved at me as the taxi drove me away – her blinds came down against my fierce rays.’

In the Bright Sleeve of the Sky by Ilya Kaminsky

In the Bright Sleeve of the Sky, Ilya Kaminsky ‘Is that you, little soul? Sometimes at night I light a lamp so as not to see. I tiptoe, Anushka drowsing in my palms: on my balding head, her bonnet.’

Consider the Grass Growing by Patrick Kavanagh

Consider the Grass Growing , Patrick Kavanagh ‘Consider the grass growing As it grew last year and the year before, Cool about the ankles like summer rivers, When we walked on a May evening through the meadows To watch the mare that was going to foal.’

An epigram from The Greek Anthology by Anyte of Tegea translated by David Constantine

from The Greek Anthology, Anyte of Tegea trans. David Constantine ‘Midsummer in the leaves there’s a murmuring breath of air. Among the roots a cold spring bubbles through. Wayfarer, weary to death, here is kindness to spare. Earthly, heavenly, as the tree lives, so may you.’

Black Ink by Fawzi Karim

Black Ink, Fawzi Karim, in a version by Anthony Howell ‘The darkness of this night is greater Than the power of a sultan. Ink from my books, shelf upon shelf of them, Pours down the curtains. Every book is an overturned inkwell. Patience, I say. Day will dawn, And the colours will spill everywhere. Snatching up the brush, I try to paint the walls green, The curtains rosy pink, But now the waves come washing in: Blue – with light’s sporadic wink.’

Summer 2022

Shelley’s sonnet Ozymandias, inspired by the Egyptian ruins at the British Museum, marks the bicentenary of the poet’s death on July 8^th, 1822, aged 29.

Our international theme continues with famous lines by the 17^th century Dean of St Pauls, John Donne: ‘No man is an island, entire of itself…’ from meditation 17, Devotions upon Emergent Occasions

Also featured: ‘Caterpillar’ by Guillaume Apollinaire, in a new version by the British poet and translator Robert Chandler.

An extract from War of the Beasts and the Animals by the dissident Russian poet Maria Stepanova, translated by Sasha Dugdale.

‘Ditches’ by the Irish poet Jessica Traynor.

‘Dei Miracole’ by the popular poet, playwright and broadcaster Lemn Sissay.

Ozymandias by P B Shelley

Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley 'I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed. And on the pedestal these words appear: 'My name is OZYMANDIAS, King of Kings: Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!' Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.'

No man is an island by John Donne

‘Caterpillar’ by Guillaume Apollinaire translated by Robert Chandler

La Chenille Caterpillar by Guillaume Apollinaire, tr Robert Chandler 'La Chenille Le travail mène à la richesse. Pauvres poètes, travaillons! La chenille en peinant sans cesse Devient le riche papillon. Caterpillar Work hard, poets, work with good cheer: Work leads to wealth and freedom from fear; And butterflies, for all their graces, Are merely caterpillars who persevere. ' Reprinted by permission of Robert Chandler from Guillaume Apollinaire, Poems, translated by Robert Chandler (Everyman 2000)

from War of the Beasts and the Animals by Maria Stepanova translated by Sasha Dugdale.

from War of the Beasts and the Animals by Maria Stepanova, tr. Sasha Dugdale ' on the twenty-second of june at four o’clock on the dot I won’t be listening to anything I’ll have my eyes shut I’ll bury the foreign broadcast It’s the news but I won’t lift a hand If anyone comes I’m out of the loop I’m a sparrow I’m no man’s land' Reprinted by permission of Bloodaxe Books from Maria Stepanova, War of the Beasts and the Animals, trans. Sasha Dugdale (2021)

‘Ditches’ by Jessica Traynor

‘Dei Miracole’ by Lemn Sissay

June 2023 Celebrating Windrush 75

Poems on the Underground marks the 75^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.

British poetry has gained immeasurably from the contribution of Caribbean and Black British voices of the most eloquent, wide-ranging and diverse kinds, reaching the widest possible audience. We are happy to join the Windrush 75 network in celebrating our common humanity.

Our summer set of poems features poets with close Caribbean and British links

‘Sea-Song One’ by James Berry

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)

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

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)

‘The London Breed’ by Benjamin Zephaniah

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)

‘Colonization in Reverse’ by Louise Bennett

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)

‘The only thing far away’ by Kei Miller

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)

‘Bourda’ by Grace Nichols

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)

June 2024

We welcome the joys of summer and its special music with a truly international set of poems: a tribute to the great American jazz greats by the Ghanaian-British poet Nii Ayikwei Parkes; a 13^th-century round, also known as the Cuckoo Song; a love poem by Azita Ghahreman, an Iranian poet writing in Persian; Don Paterson’s version of a sonnet to Orpheus by the great Austrian poet Rainer Maria Rilke; A E Housman’s lament from A Shropshire lad; and an extract from the late Benjamin Zephaniah’s celebration of our common origins as ‘refugees’.

A Glimpse by Azita Ghahreman, translated from the Persian by Elhum Shakerifar and Maura Dooley

A Glimpse So caught up in our conversation that darkness fell and covered us with large damp wings and not a single light showed in that blue hour where we stood grown-up children held for a moment, astonished, watching a paper boat as the water swallowed it. Azita Ghahreman, translated from the Persian by Elhum Shakerifar and Maura Dooley Reprinted with permission from Negative of a Group Photograph (The Poetry Translation Centre / Bloodaxe Books, 2018)

A Glimpse read in Persian by Azita Ghahreman

A Glimpse by Azita Ghahreman read by Maura Dooley

from We Refugees by Benjamin Zephaniah

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) 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

The Isle of Portland by A.E. Housman

The Isle of Portland The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once was friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for aye;, And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. . A. E. Housman

The Isle of Portland by A.E. Housman read by Maura Dooley

‘Sumer is icumen in’ Anon

‘Sumer is icumen in’ Sumer is icumen in Loud sing cuckoo! Groweth seed and bloweth mead And springeth the wood now, Sing cuckoo! Ewe bleateth after lamb, Cow loweth after calf, Bullock starteth, buck farteth, Merry sing cuckoo! Cuckoo, cuckoo! Well singest thou cuckoo, Nor cease thou never now! Sing cuckoo now, sing cuckoo! Sing cuckoo, sing cuckoo now! Anon (13th century) Music manuscript by permission of The British Library Board, BL Harley 978f.1.1v

Sumer is Icumen in read by Nii Ayikwei Parkes

Taste by Don Paterson

Taste Gooseberry, banana, pear and apple, all the ripenesses . . . Read it in the child’s face: the life-and-death the tongue hears as she eats . . . This comes from far away. What is happening to your mouth? Where there were words, discovery flows, all shocked out of the pith – What we call apple . . . Do you dare give it a name? This sweet-shop fire rising in the taste, to grow clarified, awake, twin-sensed, of the sun and earth, the here and the now – the sensual joy, the whole Immense! Don Paterson Reprinted by permission of Faber & Faber from Orpheus: A Version of Rilke’s ‘Die Sonette an Orpheus’ (2006)

June 2025

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’. A Young Poet on the Underground, Anna Gilmore Heezen, observes a housefly in August heat; the British-Nigerian poet Dr. Gboyega Odubanjo rewrites Genesis for modern times, the South Korean poet Jeongrye Choi is lost in a forest. Tube travellers can imagine Shakespeare’s ‘wild thyme and luscious woodbine, sweet musk-roses and eglantine’; the Chinese poet Po Chui-i’s ‘peach-tree blossom’, and the smell of oranges as recalled by the Palestinian poet Mosab Abu Toha.

Daughter by Mosab Abu Toha