The sound of flowing blues,
And slide of molten gold,
Those tapping dancing shoes
And notes of aching soul.
An humility of sound,
All time and never show,
The understated master,
Has finally made it home.
Another of my guitar heroes has left us. That slide guitar and gruff vocals.
(22.12.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Burak Erenoğlu on Unsplash
We glide, we climb,
Our pedals turn,
We grunt and groan,
To creaking cranks,
And sighing pants,
Until we reach,
The top and fly.
After too long a break, I got on my bike again today and did the next leg of the London-Walsingham Camino doing a ~40 mile figure of eight around Ware, Hunsdon, the Hadhams, and Bishops Stortford. Really enjoyable spin and company.
(22.12.25)
I only had ten minutes to trace the journey
from heaven to earth, the Word to flesh descending.
The Son becoming one with us for love
takes on our form, enters fragility,
and there is shunned. Pursued they flee,
the holy family, to Egypt’s bosom.
Asylum sought, by strangers saved, until
at last they can return. Can time compress
this sacrifice? Ten minutes can’t suffice,
but asks us if we’d welcome them today.
I had the privilege of preaching at a local church’s carol service today, and the challenge of compressing the awe and challenge of Christmas into just ten minutes. I thought I’d try again in ten lines.
(21.12.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Kevin Bückert on Unsplash
The glare. The glistening glass that cloaks the sky.
The ice erupts, our eyes afire burn
with blinding brightness born of cold. We freeze.
Our hardened hands are cut, by sharpness hurt,
as numbed we notice not that time is stopped;
my dire realm reversed from darkened depths
to a fiercesome land of frightening light and frost.
We sail until we’re stilled by the sight of smoke
issuing forth from the volcanic crest that carves
the skyline. Awestruck and silent we kneel and pray.
I’ve been reading Erebus by Michael Palin, about the ship Erebus babe after the Greek God of the underworld. This dramatic scene as she sailed in search of the south pole caught my attention.
(20.12.25)
A card trick?
In front of a school of children?
What could possibly go wrong?
In fact it turns out quite a lot…
They say that if at first you don’t
succeed, that you should try, try, try
again? But after that? Press on?
Eventually it worked, I think,
a prize for my resilience but
I think they may have noticed…
And so I waved my magic wand
and wished myself away. Alas,
I failed to manage that as well!
Every year I do the school Christingle service on the last day of term. It has become a tradition that I do a Christmas magic trick. Usually it works…
(19.12.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Clifford Photography on Unsplash
I passed the baby Jesus to you in
a box. You stared at me for a moment and
then unexpectedly flinched and threw him back.
That wasn’t in the script or risk assessment.
Thankfully I caught him; he was fine.
The services at our local nursing home always have an element of unpredictability to them, keeping us on our toes.
(18.12.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Lhar Capili on Unsplash
Take:
A tumult of toddlers
A cacophony of carers
A muddle of mothers,
Disappearance of dads
A greatness of grandparents
A legend of leaders*
A twinkle of stars
And a riot of rhymes.
Mix to taste.
A collective Toddler Christmas party
*Apart from the poet!
It was the glorious madness of our toddler group Christmas party today. Great fun, as always.
(17.12.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by leoni fleming on Unsplash
Around the table the verses spin
Chaotically bouncing from side to side
Like a wounded bird upon the wing.
They start hopefully, flying with haste
Then hesitate, stumbling slowly,
Limping along the table settings.
At five gold rings they start to sing
A note of lifting melody
That somehow helps us to the end.
The highlight of the day was a hilarious rendition of The Twelve Days of Christmas at our Drop In Christmas lunch today. Magnificent.
(16.12.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Bob Frewin on Unsplash
Why did you go and do that,
Are you out of your little mind?
A pea in the pod? You’re crazy!
A bun in the oven? You’re mad!
They’re saying you’re up the duff,
If not perhaps it’s the pole,
Or have you gone all old school
And are wearing your bustle wrong…
Knocked up – knocked out more like –
This isn’t the time for this.
Have you gone and got yourself pregnant,
For the sake of a hasty kiss?
I hope for your sake he’s special,
You’ve a life of pain ahead,
Don’t be telling me you did nothing
And this child was heaven sent…
This is the time to live,
Play hard, make friends, have fun,
Not sacrifice it all,
For the life of a single mum.
Inevitably the Christmas story is very much on my mind right now.
(15.12.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by freestocks on Unsplash
The carols are done
I’ve sung until I’ve gone hoarse
Tired yet happy
It’s been a day of leading carols with our scratch Nativity play and carol service. Done in, and satisfied.
(14.12.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Ramazan Tokay on Unsplash
Ode for the Day 