Poem 879 – About Turn

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It started innocently enough,
you came in angry, feeling roughly
treated, but this was out of sight,
and I was ignorant. So tough,

you thought, to an imagined slight
and muscled up ready to fight!
I backed away, caught by surprise,
hastily trying to put things right.

Keep calm, I thought, and lowered my eyes
seeking to help you realise
that I wasn’t a threat to you at all
by paying attention to your replies.

Gradually the fire went out,
the fight became fresh shoots of doubt,
a wondering if you’d read things right,
the beginning of a turn about.

It was satisfying today to turn a tense situation into the start of a much better relationship.
(12.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Maxime Gilbert on Unsplash

Poem 878 – The Endless Mountain

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Yesterday’s freezer has become
Today’s allocation of time,
No matter how much of it there is
There’s never enough to climb
Up to the summit, crest the wave,
To clear the endless email list,
To finish every job and task
Required to win the day, what bliss!

It’s been a busy day at the start of a busy week (I’m not complaining, in truth I like it this way!)
(11.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Kerensa Pickett on Unsplash

Poem 877 – A Chilling Mystery

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The lure of mystery,
of hidden secrets layered,
deep beneath the surface.
The possibility of
threat and treasure leading
to wisdom’s epiphany.
Of gripping pulp adventures
epic expeditions,
and eldritch beasts to better.
But which do I get to face?
To pit my strength against
and struggle to resolve?
The puzzle of why there’s never
room within the freezer
no matter what’s removed…

A truth that applies to all forms of storage…
(10.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Ben McCloskey on Unsplash

Poem 876 – New River Path

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A refreshing summer stroll along the banks
of London’s Tap, the City’s river, bringing
water for the masses. The sun is out.
A gentle mandarin duck shows off her chicks,
a proud and tidy mother with her brood.
A cormorant smiles to show appreciation.
Winged insects dance above the flow amongst
the fuzzy seeds that snag upon sharp branches.
Alongside we walk and for a moment breathe.

This afternoon we enjoyed a lovely wander along the Enfield stretch of the New River Walk.
(09.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 874 – Placing My Cross

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Election day today and so
I place a cross inside a box.
As I grip the stubby pencil
it brings to mind another choice,
not in a temporary booth tucked in
a deserted primary school like this,
but outside a dusty city wall
where hung a man who cast his vote,
a cross marked with his crimson love.
His vote? A vote for all: for strangers,
friends and enemies, for those
we chose to love, and those we chose
to hate, and those we do not see.
A vote with open arms and cast
with generous vulnerability.
Placing my cross inside a box
I pray I won’t do that with his.

It’s the local elections today and it will be fascinating to see how they pan out, it all feels very different from usual. As seems to so often be the case, how we perceive and treat those who are different from ourselves seems to be very much an issue.
(07.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Phil Hearing on Unsplash

Poem 873 – Plastic Surgery

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‘Sit still’ she said and went behind
me to investigate. A sharp
intake of breath. ‘This is not good,’
she uttered, ‘but do not be alarmed.’

A look of utter concentration.
She raised some pliers to my neck
and clenched her tongue between her teeth,
and started to repair defects.

The room went silent and all zoomed in
upon that point of crisis where
she worked. A range of focused grunts
accompanied her efforts. Care-

fully she reached for varied tools,
a saw, a wrench, hammer and drill
sometimes even two at once
and worked with dreadful haste until

exclaiming, ‘It is fixed!’ Stepping
back to view her handiwork
she placed her plastic tools aside
and called her Mum to come and look.

Mum just smiled and winked at me,
‘Her dad fancies himself as a bit
of a handyman,’ she laughed until…
she swung a wrench and hit her knee!

Toddler group today and the toy tools were out. Towards the end I became the source of quite an operation.
(06.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by benjamin lehman on Unsplash

Poem 871 – Evensong

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Sunday evening, sat in church praying,
Our stumbling voices stutter to
A halt, uncertain of how to talk.

Sitting uncertain in our circle,
We’re startled from staring at our feet
When suddenly a new voice speaks –

A jubilant robin, his joyous song
Penetrating the awkward silence
Sounding loudly inside our sanctuary.

His trilling tongue entices us;
A Jacob’s Ladder leading from heaven
To lift us to the Lord above.

His notes remove the massing gloom
And melody delights and lifts us;
Before too long we find our voices.

In Sunday’s evening service we were treated to a beautiful solo.
(04.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Josh Applegate on Unsplash

Poem 870 – Headlights

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This tunnel through the spongy dark
reveals a flattened hazy realm.
The light is fuzzy, indistinct, and
sudden peripheral interruptions
sharply protrude from either flank.
Beyond remains alert, unknown.
I drive on through this foreign land
aware that I’m intruding here.
The halo follows me but as
we move the blackness rushes in,
devouring what is left behind.
I am an island in the night
fearful of moving fast and worried
of what might happen if I stop.

I drove up to my Dad tonight. The last miles are across country, down unlight country roads, which in the dark begins strangely sentient.
(03.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Philipp Katzenberger on Unsplash