Poem 977 – Contentment

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Sat in the back of a foodbank van, the sun
is beating on my face. Right now this is
a happy place. I note the irony.

I tell myself it doesn’t matter what
you have, that things don’t fill a soul or make
you whole. That’s easy to say when you have things.

I have things. Too many things it’s true.
So many things I freely throw them in
the dump. That’s not a boast but a confession.

Once, a wise man found the secret of
contentment in plenty and in debt. Perhaps
I need to find it. …But maybe not just yet.

Musings whilst sitting on the back of the foodbank van today…
(19.08.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Autotrader UK on Unsplash

Poem 975 – Wanted, One Traitor (The Ballad of the Wake cont.)

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‘If only one who stands with him,
Would willingly betray,
That rascal deep in bog and sin,
Before late in the day.’

‘We do not wish to dwell in marsh,
Amongst the dismal reeds,
The penalty will be too harsh,
If we are forced to seek.’

‘His foolish men should have no doubt,
We’ll have to kill the lot,
If we are forced to seek him out,
And leave their limbs to rot!’

The Earl of Warenne’s men seek to persuade Hereward’s to betray him.
(17.08.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Wolfgang Hasselmann on Unsplash

Poem 972 – It’s Hot

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It’s hot.
So hot that I’ve started to melt.

I find myself dreaming of
a long refreshing drink,
hallucinating visions
of a pint; can you see it?

And so, upon returning
home, I find I am
inevitably pouring myself…

…onto the sofa and leaking
absolutely everywhere.
It’s hot, so very, very
hot.

It’s been a tad warm in the foodbank warehouse this week…
(14.08.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Timothy Dykes on Unsplash

Poem 971 – Decorating Therapy

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And relax,
Feel the gentle rhythm:
In, out, in, out.
The flow of paint upon the wall,
The careful application until all
is covered, an even coat.
And as you breathe let go of thought,
Of fear or threat, anxiety
And simply be.
In, out, in, out.
Don’t bite your lip in concentration,
Drip the paint upon the floor
Or door or carpet. Hesitation
Leads to messy lines, just flow
With it,
In, out, in, out,
Until it’s time to lay your brush
Upon the tray, step back and look
And say, it’s done and all is good.

Life’s a little busy right now, but decorating seems to be a great way to let go at the end of the day, one walk at a time.
(13.08.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Roselyn Tirado on Unsplash

Poem 970 – The Waiting Game (The Ballad of the Wake cont.)

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Once rounded up, these guards he quizzed,
To ascertain their purpose.
From them he learnt of Warenne’s plans,
To come next day to this marshland,
To seize him with his own foul hands,
So Hereward stationed men on the banks,
And archers hid along its flanks,
And waited for him to surface.

Learning of Warenne’s plans to capture him, Hereward hatches a ‘cunning plan’.
(12.08.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Zac Edmonds on Unsplash

Poem 969 – The Kingfisher (The Ballad of the Wake cont.)

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In murky Fenland waters lurk
Fine fish safe in the rushes,
Amongst the reeds where warblers sing
And eels reign, the undisputed kings.
Here kingfishers take to vibrant wing,
To catch a fleeting flash of fin,
Blazing iridescent sting,
In unexpected ambush.

I thought I’d add a stanza somewhere before yesterday’s, to give a Fen-foreshadow or reflection of Hereward ambushing those who thought they were hidden and secure in their attempts to catch him.
(11.08.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Vincent van Zalinge on Unsplash