Poem 954 – M1 Wings

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Spread-eagled, fallen angel’s wings lie prone,
dark, shredded tyres reaching to the heavens.
Did they plummet violently like Icarus,
actively rebelling against their master?
Or was their end more gradual, a slow decline
like falling snow that gently fades away?
The same conclusion waits for both despite
the drama faced: a lonely, cold, hard shoulder.
So take good heed, my friend, and drive with care
not speed, and fly, eyes open, filled with love.

Driving along the motorway today I spotted the familiar sight of remnants of truck tyres lying on the hardshoulder. One strip in particular caught my attention, its edges feathered.
(27.07.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Alexandr Popadin on Unsplash

Poem 953 – Encounters On the Tube

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He sees her canine companion and asks
if he may stroke it. She says yes
and soon they’re talking, clicking, smiling.
Names are exchanged, one Brit, one Greek,
but alas this is her stop. She panics.
Are you on Facebook? No, he says,
but by now the doors are closing down
on alternatives and what could be.

Meanwhile, in another carriage she pouts,
arranges her hair and lips and lashes,
and purring, poses for her phone
(it’s neatly perched between her nails).
She loves it and hopes the feeling’s mutual.
It’s safe at least and undemanding,
but underneath she hungers for
the danger of uncertainty.

I love people watching on the tube. These were both scenes I saw on a journey today `although they weren’t simultaneous as the poem suggests. The contrast between them was fascinating.
(26.07.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Belinda Fewings on Unsplash

Poem 952 – Evening Walk

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A lazy walk along the River Lee.
Passing pink clouds dissipate and fade in
transitory trails, the evening’s tiring sun.
The air is empty, no birds announce their presence.
All is still. Responding we stroll in whispers.

A quiet walk at the end of another busy day.
(25.07.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 949 – Ely Hears the News (The Ballad of the Wake cont.)

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The news of Hereward’s return soon spread
And reached the Abbot Thurstan,
Who wrote from Ely deep in the Fen,
Where he and other most resolute men,
Were set upon a brave defence,
Against King William and contend,
His stubborn decision to impose a French monk
Over every one of them,
Down to the very last person.

O Ely, island of the marsh,
Beloved by Mother Fen,
Whose towers stand above its mists,
And tenderly its wetlands kiss,
Concealing paths and trails that twist,
From eyes of devious men.

Word of Hereward’s return reaches the Isle of Ely.
(22.07.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo Bob Jones / Ely Cathedral / CC BY-SA 2.0

Poem 947 – One Day

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Today I buried Reynard,
Enjoyed a coffee in Spoons,
And was mistaken for Thomas Tuchel.

Today I sat beneath,
A ghostly barn owl fly-past,
And partial rusty moon.

Today has been surreal,
Disturbing and exciting,
And sometimes awe-inspiring

A long and busy day.
(20.07.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Lou Barros on Unsplash

Poem 945 – Hereward Rounds Up His Troops (The Ballad of The Wake cont.)

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Now fresh returned to England’s shores,
He set at once to home,
To see how fared his father’s lands,
And to gather up a noble band,
Of men still faithful to his commands,
And happy to with him roam.

Great joy! His home had been left alone!
No man had dared to tread,
Within its grounds or tear it down,
And friends of old were scattered around,
Who swiftly gathered when they found out
What he had dared to pledge:

‘I have returned to stand against
The foe that’s stormed our land,
I will not sleep until they’re sent
From hill and moor and sand.’

Will you brave knights join in my fight
For faith and freedom stand?
Together we can spread the light,
A courageous merry band!

The short in stature but strong Wynter,
Robust in every way,
His nephews also, brave Godwin,
With Outi and Doti the famous twins,
And many others from across the kingdom,
Gathered without delay.

‘We’ll fight with you!’ they boasted, proud,
‘Defend our fathers’ realms,
And tear that William’s throne right down,
The Normans overwhelm.’

The list of men was far too long
For me to fully number,
But know for now that many hold,
These knights as the best in all the world,
Of their bold exploits such tales were told,
That will never be outdone.

Taking advantage of a Saturday with a bit of time to get Hereward’s band of outlaws together. Once again I’m reminded of how Hereward has always seemed like a prototype for Robin Hood.
(18.07.26)

© Ben Quant 2026