Poem 928 – The Club Convenes in Person

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Slowly we converge. Alert, we trace
each stranger’s face to ascertain their nature.
Do those features belong to one of us?
We hesitate, it’s better to be cautious
than run unnecessary risk. Be careful.
Watch and wait. Let someone else move first.
A stranger looks your way. Eyes briefly meet
then break away. An accidental action,
or look of recognition? Turn back and see.
They’re looking too, it’s time to make your move.

The first in person meeting for The Pendragon Club, an online community gathered around the imaginary worlds created by Julian Simpson. And what a brilliant evening it was!
(30.06.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 927 – Knighted (The Ballad of the Wake cont.)

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Not unmindful of these fears our
Hereward amassed his men,
The biggest and the bold he called,
Some forty nine he sent abroad,
All dressed in armour fresh procured,
The bravest from the Fens.

Upon the Feast of Peter and Paul
He went to the Abbot of Burgh, (Peterborough)
A man called Brant of noble birth,
Requesting that around his girth,
He’d hang a belt and sword in mirth,
To make of him a Sir.

And in an act of further fury
He called upon his fighters,
To be likewise made knights like this,
Proclaimed as such by a solemn kiss ,
That English ways not French persist,
As by the clergy they’re knighted.

Back to the Ballad today and Hereward preparing for the King William’s revenge in response to his own (see Poem 920).
(29.06.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Jonathan Kemper on Unsplash

Poem 925 – Golden

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The furious Sun has shone with anger,
With rasping rays that raked our days,
Set rooms afire throughout the night,
Burning the world, no sign of grace.
We’ve wished it gone and prayed for rain,
But as it finally edged away,
It shed its fury and shone with joy,
Its last hurrah guilt edged the day.

As the heat finally broke this afternoon we took a walk and were treated to this stunning sun down view.
(27.06.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 924 – The Lantern Men (Ballad of the Wake cont.)

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Beware the marsh the black crow cries,
Beware the treacherous mire,
Beware deceptive flickering lights,
That tempt and tease us from our stride,
The cunning of these devious guides,
That wickedly conspire.

Beware the evil lantern men,
The haunters of the fen,
That flicker with the barking dog,
That howls within the cloaking fog,
The phantom hound, the grim Black Shuck,
Enticing us to our death.

A bit brain dulled by the heat and the days events, so here’s a couple of verses that may or may not feature in the Ballad of the Wake.
(26.06.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Fabio Verhorstert on Unsplash

Poem 923 – A Heavenly Blacksmith

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The furnace of the African sun
Was the perfect place to forge a friendship,
To meld our souls, two servants together.
It only seemed appropriate that
This friendship was restored today
Under the blaze of this burning Sun.
As one we walk in different fields,
A common life in different cultures,
Together refined by Christ the Son.

In an act of perfect symmetry I was reunited with a friend from Sierra Leone in a heatwave reminiscent of my time there.
(25.06.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Vincenzo Marotta on Unsplash

poem 922 – dissolve

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the rising heat pervades and saturates,
discombobulating, it smears and saps
our life, we sit and stare and take our turn
uttering, ‘It’s hot, too hot,’ our words become
confused and stumble, jumble, skip a line
and fall in greasy puddles around our shoes,
and start to slide apart, it is too much,
and slide apart, proximity adverse

The hottest day of yet another heatwave. It’s all too much…
(24.06.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash

Poem 920 – Revenge Revealed (The Ballad of the Wake cont.)

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Next morning the new sun revealed,
A warning to such men,
For from his gate their heads were fanned,
To scare their fellows from this land,
Or else they’d suffer at his hands,
The fate of fallen friends!

And so they fled surrounding homes,
All fearful for their lives,
But whilst by foes he was afeared,
By friend and neighbour he was cheered,
Their former enemies they jeered,
In joy at this surprise.

But whilst they celebrated loud
They also gave him counsel
The King will hear, they warned him clear,
This wanton act could cost you dear,
Prepare your swords, your shields and spears,
In case you meet this scoundrel!

Next morning Hereward’s revenge is revealed to his neighbours.
(22.06.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Image sourced from the Public Domain Image Archive / Internet Archive / University of Toronto Libraries

Poem 919 – The Bat

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The size and shape of a teabag,
you raise your head towards me.
You seem to sniff and hunt;
your ancient face inquires,
tracking down your prey.
A primal connection is made.
I know you’re just a pup
but something older searches
through you. Something wise.
Unbidden memories of
childhood nightmares emerge,
of figures scaling walls,
bite marks, and syphoned life.
I tell myself you’re lost
and looking for your mum,
a cute and vulnerable child.
Subconsciously my fingers
search my open neck.

Late last night we discovered a bat pup clawing its way along our downstairs corridor. Somehow it’s made its way from the loft where we have discovered we have a maternity roost somewhere tucked out of sight. It was strangely cute and vulnerable, and yet at the same time… It’s now with a local bat volunteer as we weren’t able to locate its mum.
(21.06.26)

© Ben Quant 2026