Poem 897 – A Beginner’s Ballad

I’m trying to write a simple ballad,
A form of rhyming poem,
It uses lines with four accents,
Then three to move without relent,
Mix them together, let them ferment,
And the lines will keep on flowin’.

And now I’ve reached the second stanza,
It doesn’t seem so hard,
I’m certainly glad I gave it a go,
And tried it out, just never say no,
But now I fear I’ve reached my plateau,
I’ll never replace the Bard!

I’m reading Malcolm Guite’s terrific ‘Galahad and the Grail’ at the moment, which is written in ballad form. Rather than always alternating between 4 beats and 3 beats, he mixes it up, my favourite following the above rhyme and beat pattern. Thought I’d try it out, nothing serious this time but I may come back to it.
(30.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Taha on Unsplash

Poem 896 – The Foal

Straining, all knees and gangly legs, I stand.
My newborn head is heavy as I reach
and sway with splaying limbs towards my mum.
I find she’s moved. I glitch and stumble forwards.
Momentum found, I shake my mane and follow,
our bodies, side by side, are bound by hope.
At last she stops, and threatening to collapse,
I find a teat and finally start to suck.

After dinner we went for a local wander and enjoy the sight of four newborn foals finding their feet.
(29 05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Fabien Maurin on Unsplash

Poem 895 – World Wide Surfing Spider

Today, I am a world wide surfing spider.
My fingers nimbly chase its binary threads,
which yesterday hadn’t been dreamt or spun.
As I write, I weave my digital truth.

My fingers nimbly chase its binary threads,
I couldn’t perceive their ways when I was younger,
and as I write, I weave my digital truth,
not seeing the vastness of the world without.

When I was younger I couldn’t perceive the snare
that drew me into this shiny cell phone screen,
and not knowing that the outside world’s so vast,
I dreamt that one day we might fly around it.

Trapped in a cell as small as a mobile screen,
a gaol which yesterday hadn’t been dreamt or spun,
I yearn to spread my wings and finally fly
but today? I’m just a world wide surfing spider.

As promised yesterday, a pantoum. This is a Malaysian poetry form where 8 lines are rearranged and repeated in a set pattern that can come up with some fascinating and surprising results.
(28.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Photoholgic on Unsplash

Poem 893 – Yet Another Poem About the Heat

Drenched in lethargy, an airless blanket,
stillness squeezes, leaves us breathless.
Yearned for, now we yearn for our release,
and silent sit and wait and longing sigh.
A simple look from friend or passing stranger
wordlessly communicates, ‘it’s hot’.
Enough, we do not speak, we can’t be bothered,
instead we slump or slowly amble on.

Another hot day. I popped into the church where I work this morning and relished a moment in the cool. And then I checked the the thermostat on the wall – in what world is 25.5 C cool in May?! Ridiculous.
(26.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Sylvester Sabo on Unsplash

Poem 892 – Reprieve

Fling wide your aching doors, throw open windows,
For now the burning sun has started to dim,
Beyond the blue horizon it departs,
And at last the cooling breeze can whisper in.

This yearning land at last begins to breath,
An ease is found after the heavy heat,
Whilst news of soaring records fill the press,
Let’s rise to grasp this temporary reprieve.

34 degrees in May…
(25.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Luis Graterol on Unsplash

Poem 891 – The Summer Tide

Blue skies, like mediterranean seas, flow in.
This summer tide invades and heat pervades
the moment. All things are held within its grasp.
Unlike the birds who seem to revel in
its waves, we wilt, and under happy song,
the avian chorus, we slowly stagger forwards.
Straining to swim full-clothed, we start to strip;
will disentanglement lead us to find freedom?
I fear not so, the sun erodes and leaves
us simply red, paddling painfully flustered
to keep our noses above the rising water.

It’s been a scorcher today. From hailstorms to heatwaves, what a bonkers May its been…
(24.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Vicko Mozara on Unsplash

Poem 890 – Driven Away

Today’s been dulled by miles of endless road
And, somewhere south of Kettering services,
I mislaid my muse upon the motorway.
I didn’t do it by design, believe me,
it simply slipped away in silent protest
at the hours of mindless apathy.

Most of today has been spent on the road enduring hot, boring miles.
(23.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Haniel Espinal on Unsplash