On the Train, or at the Laundromat, Your Poem Begins … Now

New York City is invited to a poetry reading.

There is no velvet rope to traverse, no waiting in line and no entrance fee. Instead, the poets take their works to New Yorkers: on trains and ferries, in stores, on the street, and in parks and laundromats.

The poets call themselves, appropriately enough, Poets in Unexpected Places.

For almost three years, the five core members â€" the founders Samantha Thornhill, Jon Sands and Adam Falkner, along with Syreeta McFadden and Elana Bell â€" have used their ties to a thriving poetry slam community to encourage other wordsmiths to deliver their works in public.

In December, the five poets, along with Mimi Jones, a musician, descended into the Union Square subway station and headed for the Brooklyn-bound Q train platform. The train announced itself with its clamorous arrival, and the covert operation had begun. The players entered from different doors and pretended not to know one another.

Mr. Falkner, 28, started it off by singing a song. New Yorkers’ Pavlovian response to ignore kicked in: people continued to read, peer at their smartphones, sleep or listen to their own music.

Then Ms. Thornhill, 33, held up a book by Lucille Clifton and read “Wishes for Sons,” while Ms. Jones, 41, picked at a bass. The subway car thawed a degree. People left the train clapping, others smiled and headphones were taken off.

“I find myself hoping that I see something like this,” said one rider, Marvin Green, 22, who works at a Hale and Hearty franchise and lives in Brooklyn.

Punctuated by the sound of an electronic voice saying “the next stop is…” Mr. Sands, 29, performed his poem “Suspension Excerpt â€" The Perfect Mix,” about how to get people to dance at a party. It included a section from “No Diggity” by the R&B group Blackstreet. The car erupted in laughter as riders chimed in and sang along with Mr. Sands.

By this time, readers were quite attentive. They unleashed their phones and secretly, or not so secretly, filmed as other poets â€" including Thuli Zuma, 26, and Lauren Williams, 28 â€" read their original work or their favorites by others.

“I felt I was holding my breath the whole time,” said one rider, Marjorie Gross, an 18-year-old from Columbus, Ohio, who attends the University of Hartford.

The poetry group has also recited verses at a Victoria’s Secret shop, in the aisles of a Whole Foods store, on the Staten Island Ferry and, in late February, in front of the electric American flag in Times Square, where it competed with several Elmos, a Spider-Man, a few Woodys from “Toy Story” and a Captain America trying to entice tourists into doling out some dollars to take a photo with them.

Also in February, the mobile poets performed at the Wash and Play Lotto Laundromat in Fort Greene, Brooklyn. Mr. Falkner, Ms. Thornhill and Ms. Bell, 35, also took their laundry.

Ngoma Osayemi, 67, who has been writing poetry and performing for decades, managed to gain the audience’s attention â€" even amid the whomp of the dryers and the whoosh of the washers. He performed “This Poem Is Free,” and also played a bamboo flute and a didgeridoo, a long pipelike instrument.

Harmony Divine, who is 10, worked on her English homework while she waited for her turn to perform her poem, “What Is Black History Month?” When asked who her favorite poet was, she said her mother, Tracy V. Pierre, 33, who recited her poem “I’m African No Hyphen, No Hype.”

Even the laundromat’s owner, Hathiem Ahmed, 30, jumped in with a poem he had written, “The World We Live In.”

For the most part, the poets are greeted by their unsuspecting audience with curiosity and enthusiasm. They are asked for business cards; riders miss a stop to hear more and sometimes get up and perform their own poetry. The audience often wants to donate money, which none of the poets â€" many of whom have published their work â€" accept.

“There isn’t a baseball cap that comes around asking for tips,” Ms. McFadden, 38, said. “We’ve made things so inaccessible. Broadway is what, a hundred dollar seats?” she added. To go to an exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art, she said, “is a premium ticket. It’s not even a suggested donation. There is something beautiful about public artwork.”