Fame, a two edged sword.
Does notoriety help?
Or does it hinder?
Here we go again…
(01.10.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Christos Papadopoulos on Unsplash
Poem 1019 – Embraced
With gleeful mirth, our Mother Fen
Embraced with open arms,
The soldiers thrown into the air,
And dragged them screaming to her lair,
Drawing them deep into her care,
And murky, muddy, charms.
Once off the causeway, the invaders stood no chance.
(30.09.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Jeremy Kwok on Unsplash
Poem 1018 – The Conqueror’s Causeway (The Ballad of the Wake cont.)
And so he moved his army to
The village of Alrehede,
And had them bring there logs and beams,
All tied together, rows of trees,
Held up by balloons of sheep skin fleece
Positioned underneath.
And so a causeway soon was born
Across the watery peat,
Upon this men could safely march –
Lured on by greed they did too fast,
Called on by treasure from the past,
A rumoured concealed treat.
Under the beat of running feet
The bridge began to shake,
At first a creak and then a crack,
A shudder shock the Conqueror’s track,
Until it split apart, was wracked,
Hurling bodies in its wake.
(Alrehede, pronounced Al-re-heath, modern day Aldreth in Cambridgeshire)
William’s plan is pulled apart by haste and greed.
(29.09.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Jeremy Kwok on Unsplash
Poem 1017 – Psalm 133
I’ve often wondered about Aaron’s beard…
Was it full throttle ZZ Top
or something much more closely cropped?
A shaggy mop where birds could nest,
or neat coiffure for Sunday best?
Poirot curls or Viking plaits?
Something at home with a tricorn hat?
But this i know no matter how weird,
It’s a mass of hairs so closely adhered,
That although they’re different they appear,
To be a single glorious beard!
Enjoyed our Churches Together service tonight.
(28.09.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Poem 1016 – When I’m Gone
The world will still turn round each day,
The Sun and Moon will dance their dance,
Gravity will constant tug,
The tide flow in and then depart.
My absence will be soon forgotten,
Opinions once so clear will pass,
My footprints will all fade from sight,
And passions strong no longer last.
So what remains for me today,
When all is just a fleeting song?
Seeking to be a harmonious note,
Amongst the divergent musical throng.
Written whilst in the queue for The Globe. There’s something about standing here in London by the Thames that reminds me of our temporary nature as humans. So much has been here for far longer than I have and will continue long after I’m gone.
(27.09.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Ana Paula Grimaldi on Unsplash
Poem 1015 – Parting Gift
With time the waves erode
the definition of
your features. Self begins
to trickle with the tide.
Odd names become flotsam
adrift and unattached,
whilst conversations wash
repeatedly on the shore.
But even as the castle
walls begin to fall
your parting hug remains
reassuringly true.
(26.09.26)
Poem 1014 – Human vs Duvet Cover
Straight-jacketted by bed-linen,
I refuse to panic or submit,
seeking to fight the sheets into
submission. Grappling with corners,
I twist and thrash and try to solve
this case of cotton origami.
At first it all seems bleak, the bedding
begins to win but just as all
looks lost ‘That’s Life’ emerges from
the folds of distant memory.
Shaking out the cobwebs, one flick
is all it takes to turn defeat
into a perfectly aligned
duvet – and Rantzen wins again.
Having almost finished decorating the spare room, it was time to put the bedding on again… Decades on, I still remember Esther Rantzen’s advice regarding how to put these new fangled duvet covers on.
(25.09.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by wd toro 🇲🇨 on Unsplash
Poem 1013 – Dusk
Tonight the world went pink,
A blood transfusion from a dying Sun.
An evening gift of life.
Heading over to the church for an evening meeting tonight, the world was transformed by an eerie light. The group waiting by the door were all bathed with light, reminding me of my Grandad after his regular blood transfusions.
(24.09.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by weyfoto loh on Unsplash
Poem 1012 – William’s Path
With fury flaming in his gut
He hatched an urgent plan,
To build a path across the marsh,
Erect a causeway strong and fast,
Across which Norman men could march,
Urged on by his angry hand.
Hearing of the rebels in Ely, William plans a way across the fen.
(23.09.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Lydia Lögga on Unsplash
Poem 1011 – The Flood
When news from Ely found its way
From Fenland isle to crown,
A fury filled King William,
Blowing aside the protective dam,
Loosing an angry, raging ram,
Furious waters that rampant slammed,
At all that would against him stand,
Seeking to bring them down.
The news of the rebels massing in Ely reaches William.
(22.09.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Lukas Hron on Unsplash
