This Month’s Poems

This month we feature poems and new recordings by poets who are part of the Newcastle Poetry Festival 2-3 October and poems for Black History Month.

Look out for our new autumn poems on London Overground and Underground carriages from 19th October with poems by Bernard O’Donoghue, Jaan Kaplinski, Emily Bronte, Langston Hughes, Grace Nichols and Valerie Bloom.

We’re delighted to mark Black History Month with poems by Grace Nichols, Valerie Bloom and Langston Hughes . We’re reprinting Grace Nichols’ poem ‘For the Life of This Planet’, which is in 40 Poems for 40 Years, and so relevant in this time of Climate Change peril. Langston Hughes ‘Song for Billie Holiday’ is a beautiful tribute to Billie Holiday while Valerie Bloom’s delightful play on words Brave New Words adds a light touch.

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

New Autumn Poems on the Underground

Valerie Bloom: from Brave New Words

Brave New Words A new year starts and my resolution’s to learn a new word every day, Words to impress, make people stare when they see and hear me say: Chuckwalla, haboob, and bandicoot, Williwaw, swullocking, malamute, Spelunking, borak, pawky, cleek, Boonoonoonoos, ortanique, Belonephobia, pogonophile, Farthingale, myrmecophile, Hectogram and requiem, Oh, I love the sound of them. Valerie Bloom Reprinted by permission of the author from They Sent a Cat to SATURN: Poems by Valerie Bloom (Otter-Barry Books 2026) © Valerie Bloom

Bernard O’Donoghue:  ‘Going Without Saying’: i.m. Joe Flynn

Going Without Saying i.m. Joe Flynn It is a great pity we don’t know When the dead are going to die So that, over a last companionable Drink, we could tell them How much we liked them. Happy the man who, dying, can Place his hand on his heart and say: ‘At least I didn’t neglect to tell The thrush how beautifully she sings.’ Bernard O’Donoghue Reprinted by permission of Faber & Faber from Selected Poems (2008)

           

Going Without Saying written and read by Bernard O’Donoghue

Langston Hughes: ‘Song for Billie Holiday’

Song for Billie Holiday What can purge my heart Of the song And the sadness? What can purge my heart But the song Of the sadness? What can purge my heart Of the sadness Of the song? Do not speak of sorrow With dust in her hair, Or bits of dust in eyes A chance wind blows there. The sorrow that I speak of Is dusted with despair. Voice of muted trumpet, Cold brass in warm air. Bitter television blurred By sound that shimmers-- Where? Langston Hughes Reprinted by permission of David Higham from Selected Poems (Serpent’s Tail 2020) © Langston Hughes 1959

Song for Billie Holiday by Langston Hughes read by Nick Makoha

Grace Nichols: ‘For the Life of This Planet’

For the Life of This Planet The way the red sun surrenders its wholeness to curving ocean bit by bit. The way curving ocean gives birth to the birth of stars in the growing darkness, wearing everything in its path to cosmic smoothness. The impulse of stones rolling towards their own roundness. The unexpected comets of flying fish. And Forest, Great-Breathing-Spirit, rooting to the very end for the life of this planet. Grace Nichols Reprinted by permission of Curtis Brown from I have Crossed an Ocean: Selected Poems (Bloodaxe Books 2010) Reprinted in 40 Poems for 40 Years (Poems on the Underground 2026)

For the Life of This Planet by Grace Nichols read by Marjorie Lotfi

Jaan Kaplinski tr. Fiona Sampson: ‘Only at dusk do eyes really begin to see…’

Only at dusk do eyes really begin to see Only at dusk do eyes really begin to see. The colours of flowers become lucid and bright before night extinguishes them: carnations, yellow roses, meadow-vetch and buttercups. The wind has died down and the sky -- the faded, nearly invisible background of all our comings and goings -- is suddenly here, just above the treetops and pylons, shining through foliage and above the roof of the house in all its depth and blueness. Behind the outhouse Venus appears; to the right of the pole of the well, Jupiter: once two gods, now two stars. Jaan Kaplinski translated by Fiona Sampson Reprinted by permission of Bloodaxe Books from Jaan Kaplinski, Selected Poems, translated by Jaan Kaplinski, Sam Hamill, Hildi Hawkins and Fiona Sampson (2011)

Only at Dusk by Jaan Kaplinski read by Fiona Sampson

Emily Bronte: Fall leaves fall

Fall leaves fall Fall leaves fall, die flowers away Lengthen night and shorten day Every leaf speaks bliss to me Fluttering from the autumn tree I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow I shall sing when night’s decay Ushers in a drearier day Emily Bronte

Newcastle Festival poets

Caedmon's Hymn 7th century AD translated by Paul Muldoon ' Now we must praise to the skies the Keeper of the heavenly kingdom, The might of the Measurer, all he has in mind, The work of the Father of Glory, of all manner of marvel, Our eternal Master, the main mover. It was he who first summoned up, on our behalf, Heaven as a roof, the holy Maker. Then this middle- earth, the Watcher over humankind, Our eternal Master, would later assign The precinct of men, the Lord Almighty. '

Caedmon’s Hymn in Old English read by Carl Kears

Caedmon’s Hymn translated by Paul Muldoon read by Clare Lees

Sean O’Brien

Love Poems on the Underground The River Road , Sean O’Brien. Come for a walk down the river road, For though you're all a long time dead The waters part to let us pass

The River Road written and read by Sean O ‘Brien

Daljit Nagra

Look there he goes even now, my father, Daljit Nagra ‘Look there he goes even now, my father, into some other world, all my life I have been harbour-struck trying to make him appear’

Look there he goes even now, my father written and read by Daljit Nagra

Our Town with the Whole of India, Daljit Nagra 'Our town in England with the whole of India sundering out of its temples, mandirs and mosques for the customised streets. Our parade, clad in cloak-orange with banners and tridents, chanting from station to station for Vaisakhi over Easter. Our full-moon madness for Eidh with free pavement tandooris and legless dancing to boostered cars. Our Guy Fawkes’ Diwali – a kingdom of rockets for the Odysseus-trials of Rama who arrowed the jungle foe to re-palace the Penelope-faith of his Sita. '

Imtiaz Dharker

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

Carving written and read by Imtiaz Dharker

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)

Syzygy written and read by Rachael Boast

Jackie Kay

Promise by Jackie Kay: Remember, the time of year when the future appears like a blank sheet of paper a clean calendar, a new chance. On thick white snow you vow fresh footprints then watch them go with the wind’s hearty gust. Fill your glass. Here’s tae us. Promises made to be broken, made to last.'
George Square by Jackie Kay ' My seventy-seven-year-old father put his reading glasses on to help my mother do the buttons on the back of her dress. ‘What a pair the two of us are!’ my mother said, ‘Me with my sore wrist, you with your bad eyes, your soft thumbs!’ And off they went, my two parents to march against the war in Iraq, him with his plastic hips, her with her arthritis, to congregate at George Square, where the banners waved at each other like old friends, flapping, where they’d met for so many marches over their years, for peace on earth, for pity’s sake, for peace, for peace.' Reprinted by permission of Bloodaxe Books from Darling: New & Selected Poems (2007)

Carolyn Forché

The Visitor, Carolyn Forché ' In Spanish he whispers there is no time left. It is the sound of scythes arcing in wheat, the ache of some field song in Salvador. The wind along the prison, cautious as Francisco's hands on the inside, touching the walls as he walks, it is his wife's breath slipping into his cell each night while he imagines his hand to be hers. It is a small country. There is nothing one man will not do to another'

Poems Celebrating Black History Month

Midsummer, Tobago, Derek Walcott 'Broad sun-stoned beaches. White heat. A green river. A bridge, scorched yellow palms from the summer-sleeping house drowsing through August. Days I have held, days I have lost, days that outgrow, like daughters, my harbouring arms.'

Midsummer, Tobago by Derek Walcott read by Nick Makoha

The Thing Not Said, E.A. Markham ‘We need life-jackets now to float On words which leave so much unsaid.’

The Thing Not Said by E.A Markham read by Nick Makoha

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’

Bam Chi Chi La La by Lorna Goodison read by Seni Seneviratne

won’t you celebrate with me by Lucille Clifton won’t you celebrate with me what i have shaped into a kind of life? i had no model. born in babylon both nonwhite and woman what did i see to be except myself? i made it up here on this bridge between starshine and clay, my one hand holding tight my other hand; come celebrate with me that everyday something has tried to kill me and has failed. from The Book of Light. Copyright © 1993 by Lucille Clifton. Reprinted with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of Copper Canyon Press

Won’t you celebrate with me” by Lucille Clifton read by Valerie Bloom

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 London Eye written and read by Patience Agbabi

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)

Sea-Song One by James Berry read by Nii Ayikwei Parkes

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'

Beacon of Hope by Linton Kwesi Johnson read by Nick Makoha

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 Merle Collins

Free, Merle Collins 'Born free to be caught and fashioned and shaped and freed to wander within a caged dream of tears'

Free written and read by Merle Collins

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

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

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

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

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

History and Away, Andrew Salkey 'What we do with time and what time does with us is the way of history, spun down around our feet. So we say today, that we meet our Caribbean shadow just as it follows the sun, away into the curve of tomorrow. In fact our sickle of islands and continental strips are mainlands of time with our own marks on them, yesterday, today and tomorrow.'

History and Away by Andrew Salkey read by Jason Salkey

Listen to the Black History Month Recordings

Poems on the Underground 40 Poems for 40 Years Leaflet

Listen to all the poems in the Poems on the Underground 40 Poems for 40 Years leaflet

New Poems Summer 2026

New Poems February 2026

New Poems Autumn 2025

New Poems Summer 2025

New Poems Spring 2025

Poems from September 2026

Poems from August 2026

Poems from July 2026

Poems from June 2026

Poems from May 2026

Poems from April 2026

Poems from March 2026

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

Listen to Windrush Day Recordings

Love Poems Leaflet

February Poems Leaflet

War Poems on the Underground leaflet

Poems on the Underground at the Scottish Poetry Library