One word at a time
A poem for every day
A habit is formed
Keeping the streak alive
(26.08.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
One word at a time
A poem for every day
A habit is formed
Keeping the streak alive
(26.08.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Life’s like ice skating
Sometimes it feels like you’re flying,
Moving so freely through the days
With effortless style and grace.
Other days you get caught in a rut,
Find yourself wobbling violently
Or crashing headlong into a barrier.
Sometimes it’s not even your fault (but sometimes it is!)
Both occur to all of us.
Be kind to yourself, don’t scream and rant.
Pick yourself up if you need to
And don’t hate the one who glides past – next time it may be you.
That snapshot, that moment in time
When you pull it off, or you fall in humiliation?
It is only that moment. It does not define
What came before or what happens next.
So don’t judge yourself or those surrounding you.
We are all Torvill and Dean sometimes
and for those who remember,
Todd Carty in Dancing on Ice…
Went ice skating today…
(25.08.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Library of Congress on Unsplash
Senses are assaulted by the noise
and colour in this street of food.
It seems as if a thousand tongues resound
around us along with colour, scent and sound.
A flash of flame elicits gaps of joy
as frying noodles are skillfully tossed for show.
Children pile their plates with beige while adults
are tempted to test their pallets with something new.
Somewhere Za Za must be happy watching
customers in his raucous world of food.
Enjoyed a stunning lunch at Za Za’s Bazaar today.
(24.08.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
We climbed the slopes of Solsbury Hill,
So steep, they made our hearts go boom.
But oh, the view! No eagles here
But rolling hills beneath the blue
And twinkling lights reflected on
The windows far below, the crisp
And crescent shapes of Bath, a song
of angelic soul and limestone bliss.
Enjoyed a walk with friends up Solsbury Hill today (yes, that Solsbury HIll!). What a glorious view.
(22.08.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
‘The Conqueror has it surrounded,
This dreary isle of Ely,
His men have marched around its bounds,
No one is free to flee here.
Before too long they will drawn in
And squeeze this human noose,
Be wise your fools and join with us,
Or gasping you will lose!’
At this the Wake’s men laughed aloud
At Warenne’s men’s attemps,
To lure them from their loyalty
To Hereward, to across the sea,
An impotent act of conspiracy,
That inevitably failed to ferment.
‘How long, you wretch, will you moan on,
And try to turn our heads,
We won’t betray our Lord, be gone,
And whine at him instead.
Withdraw in haste and tell your man
The one he seeks is here,
Now run away as fast as you can,
Or our javelins you’ll fear!’
Hereward’s men are not for turning!
(21.08.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Bohdan Hyrovych on Unsplash
I will not be defeated
By a lack of meter,
Or abandon rhyme
For a lack of time,
And so this offering,
Although a little thin,
To keep the juices flowing
As now I must be going
That’s all folks…
(21.08.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Packing for Greenbelt
Stripping back to the basics
God and rain ready
Canvas is beckoning!
(20.08.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
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
The perfect tonic
An evening spent with good friends
Making time stand still
A lovely evening.
(18.08.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by OurWhisky Foundation on Unsplash
‘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