Look out
It’s daggers out
Rumours milled
Faithful killed
Clues analysed
Suspicions rise
Watch your back
On the wrack
No evidence
Credence’s lent
To crazy themes
Bonkers schemes
Faithful strive
To stay alive
Dispel doubt
Traitors out!
A silly one tonight. It’s been a heavy day today, which makes Celebrity Traitors the perfect release!
(09.10.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Melanie Hughes on Unsplash
Not fixed, memory is a malleable thing,
It swells and slips, elusive glides and flows,
Like clouds that drift upon the wind.
The views, once clear, become obscured by mists
that landward flow from shifting tide to hide
the fading touch of a departed’s kiss.
But who’s to say that what we sense is false,
that mutating recollections are a lie
and that our limited minds are at fault?
Perhaps what matters is what’s left behind,
the present impact, generous or unkind?
Reflecting on my memories ahead of a funeral tomorrow, and how our recollections of people fluctuate and change, I’m left wondering if that really matters. Where do we find meaning and truth if all we ever know is filtered by interpretation?
(08.10.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Ian Wetherill on Unsplash
How can one convey
A life in fifteen minutes
And not the life it takes
For it to be unfurled
Preparing a funeral this evening
(07.10.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Andrew Lvov on Unsplash
Man-made mountain range
Tectonic plates surge upwards
Gratitude ridges
Another busy day with the foodbank, not just arranging parcels, but receiving so much food from our generous Borough. I don’t think I can lift another crate today, I’m totally exhausted but so grateful.
(06.10.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
A hasty haiku’s
Poetic simplicity
Conceals spaciousness
No time today for anything more than a haiku. A simple form but not to be dismissed!
(06.10.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Autumn is nowhere to be found.
It was here last year, but looking for
it now it seems to have been misplaced.
I wonder, have you seen it?
Where are the gold and red of gently
transitioning leaves upon the breeze?
The lingering chill that leaves us reaching
for our warmer clothes?
The nights are drawing in it’s true,
but the only brown is that of sun-
burnt vegetation and bare ground,
the earth’s become quite tanned.
I worry that we’ll wake one day
to find we’ve skipped a beat and all
is crispy white – or will we find
that Winter’s missing too…
An ‘autumn’ walk in Lee Valley today but it seemed nothing of the sort.
(03.10.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Srini Somanchi on Unsplash
A dash of dusty pink
that skims across the bushes,
clipping their crennelations
until it dips within.
Cleft black and white it flies,
a penetrating arrow
homing upon its target,
vanishing from sight.
Spotted on an overcast walk through Lee Valley this afternoon.
(03.10.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Doncoombez on Unsplash
Once in her clutch there’s no escape
For those she woos and grasps,
The reeds entwine around their waists,
Her weeds contain them in her place,
As bubbles cease without a trace,
Held there, their lives soon pass.
And of that throng that charged ahead
Great numbers lost their lives,
Only the last, abandoning arms,
Alert to dying colleagues’ alarms,
Evaded her eternal ‘charms’,
And made it out alive.
And of the few that made it through
To reach the other side,
No hope awaited there for them,
For lurking hidden were Hereward’s men,
And ambush sprung their screams were lent
To join the drowning cries.
With the help of Mother Fen, Hereward is able to totally thwart the Conqueror’s men.
(02.10.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Jeremy Kwok on Unsplash
Fame, a two edged sword.
Does notoriety help?
Or does it hinder?
Here we go again…
(01.10.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Christos Papadopoulos on Unsplash
With gleeful mirth, our Mother Fen
Embraced with open arms,
The soldiers thrown into the air,
And dragged them screaming to her lair,
Drawing them deep into her care,
And murky, muddy, charms.
Once off the causeway, the invaders stood no chance.
(30.09.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Jeremy Kwok on Unsplash
