Poem 887 – Sci-Fi Distractions

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Trying to work, whilst creatures lurk
In Alien 3, is not so easy.
It’s not the horror, instead the bother
of working out, without a doubt,
the actors names, their claims to fame
some thirty years on from their fearful slaughters.

The son and I caught up with Alien 3 this evening (a few years late in my case!) What an amazing cast – although I had to age them 30 years to work out why they looked familiar.
(20.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Nat on Unsplash

Poem 886 – Selina

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I see her familiar face across the room.
Head resting on her hand she is distracted,
her mind on matters out of sight to me.
The casual nature of her arm appears
a little forced, her back is straight, her face
is stern, it’s almost as if she has to brace
herself to pause; I want to speak and make
her stop and slow, to cease her constant churn
and yet, although I’ve known her for so long,
she knows me not at all and never will.

Inspired by a portrait of Selina, the Countess of Huntingdon, who founded the movement of churches I am part of.
(19.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 885 – The Rollercoaster

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It’s not the ride but the wait,
the mounting anticipation
that builds adrenaline,
the queue that snakes beneath
the rising ride. It twists
then plunges. You duck,
knowing you’re safe but
just in case. ‘What if?…’
you wonder, then try to thrust
the thought away. Some shriek,
excitedly, showing off
their fear, whilst others stand
in silence, trying to
contain it. And then the gates.
A moment’s bracing then
release, a screaming release,
a rattling, rolling, tumbling
release of laughter, joy,
so utterly alive!

From the smallest to the largest, today we’ve packed them in.
(18.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash

Poem 884 – Following to find out where it goes

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Taking a word to start a sentence.
Letting it roll around the tongue
and fall upon the page before
eagerly following where it goes.

Will it descend the depths of Hades,
take us to dark and gloomy places,
or raise us up to mountaintops,
to seek sublime horizons light?

Sometimes it will lose its way
and stumble into deadend wastelands
but other times, its serendip-
ity, delightful metaphor and glee.

Oft the line meanders through
the daily stuff of life, the common
everyday, in search of meaning,
or simply keeping hopeful track.

Today, my word has ended here,
a final stanza whereupon
it makes its stand. And now
it calls its friend and end, full-stop.

I didn’t know what to write today, so I just wrote…
(17.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Poem 883 – London’s Ghosts

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Beating the streets of London,
The hidden alleyways
That wind forgotten paths
Through secret green oases,
Ecclesiastical memories,
And tributes to the past.
Pondering their names,
That clenched, hold onto lost
Recollections of youth,
Professions now obscure,
Which thereby host the ghosts
Of history beneath my feet.
Their signs bear witness to
The ones who walked before.

We’ve been exploring London today ahead of an evening at The Globe. As always fascinated by the glimpses of the past to be found at every turn.
(16.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Jacob Smith on Unsplash

Poem 880 – Cliffhanger

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The surging storm descends
with fury, fast and vicious,
fingers feeling every
creaking crevice. Tugging
limbs and ladder on the craft,
it threatens to upturn it,
throw it to the ground.
Lasers fire their furious
lights and slice through lashing
sky and shields alike.
Silhouetted soldiers
dance to dodge its death
their warring weapons raging
in return. Now pinned
between these violent forces,
race our rebel rogues
to meet uncertain ends…

A cracking space-opera RPG session tonight left our heroes caught up in the middle of an unpredictable conflict.
(13.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Y M on Unsplash