A treasure trove full and bounteous
A time machine to find what’s been
A brewery kettle of faith beginning
A peek around future’s bend
A training ground forming bravery
A school in which to fire up brains
A laboratory of facts all bubbling
A dream one day freedom begins
I love libraries. They’ve always been one of my favourite places. Along with bookshops….
(07.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
It is not empty, so
Those in matured relationships
Need not feel obliged to
Fill every moment
With words
They can simply be
Not threatened by silence
Nor disturbed by
What is left
Unspoken
Content to be vulnerable
Before the other’s thoughts
Trust fills the gaps
And plasters over
The pauses
I’ve been married for 27 years. This week in isolation has underlined the simple yet profound pleasure of simply being in the same room together. Thank you K. As a Christian, this pleasure and these verses point towards the human-divine relationship too.
(06.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
I lost my sense of smell today
Not misplaced, but silently taken
Stolen as I slept along with
Shower gel invigoration
The taste and satisfaction of
A freshly filtered fine coffee
And all that’s left’s a lingering hole
Olfactory fissure, fragrance flees
Thankfully my Covid symptoms have been mild, like a bad cold. Today, however, a big sniff of a pot of Vicks revealed the surreal truth, my sense of smell has gone. (Altered the second line today, 06.11.21, wasn’t quite happy with the rhythm before)
(05.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Reckless these needles stand proud
Reaching defiantly into the deep
An arm outstretched captured pleading
Skimming stone caught flying mid-leap
Valiant intercessor bridging between
Stark precipice and unstoppable blue
Tempestuous nights beacon flashing
Steering brave souls home safe and true
Stuck inside due to Covid gives me the chance to look back through the year’s photos. This one comes from a walk along the south coast of the Isle of Wight, past the Tennyson monument, to look out on the Needles and their lighthouse. What started off as a drizzly day thankfully quickly cheered up, but not much imagination is required to picture how fierce this tranquil scene could become if the weather truly turned.
(04.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
On this ancient shore
Once walked terrible lizards
Their footprints remain
A bonus haiku to end the day. As a family we’ve spent many days sifting through stones on the beach looking for fossils. Always fancied finding dinosaur footprints, and on the Isle of Wight I did – although many had no doubt seen these Iguanodon prints before.
(03.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Returning to add this poem to Obsidian, I wonder if it would be better like this:
Terrible lizards
Once walked on this ancient shore
Their footprints remain
(10.10.24)
Delicate indentations reveal a deer passed
Picking its way along waterlogged tracks
Perhaps it tarried briefly pausing alert
Cautiously surveying green surrounds
Head raised to assess through scent and sound
If it traversed alone or was observed
Tense moment before anticipation released
A dainty leap and flick of doe heals
Propelling her fleetingly into concealing reeds
Verdant veil drawn across diminutive form
Leaving a flash of white tail and earthy tread
Alone to reveal that she stood here at all
The Lea Valley park at the end of our road is full of wildlife. One of my favourite sights is the glimpse of a muntjac deer before it vanishes into the undergrowth. Despite them being a regular sight, I have never achieved a satisfactory photograph, they move to fast, these paw prints being the nearest I’ve got.
(03.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
This summer we made pilgrimage
Briefly escaping Covid’s shadow
Blinking as we entered the light
Of Cardiff’s sun kissed halo
There with the tentative throng
We explored its proud sites
From the castle idiosyncratic
To mist veiled surrounding heights
We marched around it’s harbour
Leaning into the red dragon’s breath
That blew across boat filled waters
Our path encompassing its breadth
But as we walked we paused awhile
By a shrine with trinkets bedecked
Left in honour of a hero lost
By earnest admirers memory kept
Who was this man, what was his merit
The deeds that demand such respect?
Why Ianto Jones they did reply
Welshman of Torchwood, most adept
Puzzled I left for I knew of him
For he had graced my screens
A hero not of real life, you see
Concocted in another’s dreams
How can the death of one not living
Made up, existing just in story
Capture the imagination of those who watch
Achieving real life glory?
What of us I wondered as we left
Who battle daily to survive
Without such glamour yet endeavours true
Will our memories remain alive?
This summer we managed to take a holiday just outside Cardiff, a city I’d never visited before. I loved it, especially its castle whose eccentric internal decor was a wonderful surprise after its traditional outer shell. As a sci-fi fan I insisted on visiting Ianto’s shrine, a tribute to the character in the Doctor Who spin-off, Torchwood, who topically dies as a result of being exposed to a lethal virus. Seemed surreal that a character in a TV-drama should garner such respect when so many true heroes go unnoticed.
(02.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
The results are in
It was positive
This strikes me as strange
Not the result but
Terminology
Positive should be
A good outcome or
News to celebrate
But sad to say this
Affirmative means
Hiding away from
Friends and family
Hoping and praying
That each imagined
Symptom vanishes
Not grows and becomes
Something more than a
Whisper or hint of
A misplaced breath or
Momentary flush
A twinging back or
Misplaced taste or smell
None of this seems that
Positive to me
Alas my Covid test results weren’t as hoped, although thankfully I’ve not got it badly at all. Reckon this period of isolation should prove productive for poem writing though once I’ve got my usual activities all covered…
(01.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Ode for the Day 