Notting Hill Carnival
Colourful flags of the Caribbean
Flood London’s streets,
Vibrations from the sound systems
Pounding heavy reggae beats.
Smells of curry goat
And jerk chicken in the air,
Smoke rising from the barbecues,
Feathers tangled in dancers’ hair.
Men and women whining,
Drums echo through the crowd,
The city shakes with unity —
Culture roaring loud.
Everyone’s united,
Dancing, chanting proud,
Sipping cups of homemade sorrel,
Ancestral voices shouting loud.
And in the bass, in the blaze, in the laughter and cheer,
Echoes of struggle that carried them here —
Chains turned to rhythms, pain turned to song,
A people still marching, still dancing, still strong.
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