Poem 1023 – Lost

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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

Poem 1021 – Mother Fen’s Embrace

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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

Poem 1018 – The Conqueror’s Causeway (The Ballad of the Wake cont.)

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And so he moved his army to
The village of Alrehede,
And had them bring there logs and beams,
All tied together, rows of trees,
Held up by balloons of sheep skin fleece
Positioned underneath.

And so a causeway soon was born
Across the watery peat,
Upon this men could safely march –
Lured on by greed they did too fast,
Called on by treasure from the past,
A rumoured concealed treat.

Under the beat of running feet
The bridge began to shake,
At first a creak and then a crack,
A shudder shock the Conqueror’s track,
Until it split apart, was wracked,
Hurling bodies in its wake.

(Alrehede, pronounced Al-re-heath, modern day Aldreth in Cambridgeshire)

William’s plan is pulled apart by haste and greed.
(29.09.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Jeremy Kwok on Unsplash

Poem 1017 – Psalm 133

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I’ve often wondered about Aaron’s beard…

Was it full throttle ZZ Top
or something much more closely cropped?
A shaggy mop where birds could nest,
or neat coiffure for Sunday best?
Poirot curls or Viking plaits?
Something at home with a tricorn hat?

But this i know no matter how weird,
It’s a mass of hairs so closely adhered,
That although they’re different they appear,
To be a single glorious beard!

Enjoyed our Churches Together service tonight.
(28.09.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 1016 – When I’m Gone

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The world will still turn round each day,
The Sun and Moon will dance their dance,
Gravity will constant tug,
The tide flow in and then depart.

My absence will be soon forgotten,
Opinions once so clear will pass,
My footprints will all fade from sight,
And passions strong no longer last.

So what remains for me today,
When all is just a fleeting song?
Seeking to be a harmonious note,
Amongst the divergent musical throng.

Written whilst in the queue for The Globe. There’s something about standing here in London by the Thames that reminds me of our temporary nature as humans. So much has been here for far longer than I have and will continue long after I’m gone.
(27.09.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Ana Paula Grimaldi on Unsplash