Poem 63 – The Master Chefs

We traded favourite flavours
And swapped celebrity chefs
Compared inherited recipes
Until we had full sets
One trusted only Berry
Another Delia Smith
Some bish-bash-boshed with Jamie
But I like Nadiya best

A quick doodle today after over heating a conversation at foodbank about cookery.

© Ben Quant 2021

Poem 62 – The Morning After

There is no cordon around the house to warn
Nor grim faced officer to bar our way
But on the inside awaits a grisly scene
Come in and see the evidence arrayed

This is the room where the events transpired
Remains of celebrations on the floor
The shredded tatters form outlines around
The places where their bodies sat that morn

Now see upon the table evidence
Identified and ready to photograph
Betraying crumbs a trail perhaps to follow
Wine glasses marked by lips that last night laughed

Then out the back you’ll find their bins all full
Of waste unwanted, clues of what has been
And deep within the usual trash concealed
A cold carcass, discarded, bones picked clean

Back in again to question the witness
Who yawning talks us through the scene at hand
Identifying gifts and turkey bones
Such evidence echoed across the land

The morning after Christmas you could work out from the wreckage where everyone sat to open their gifts, reminding me of the white outlines marking where the body laid in police dramas…

© Ben Quant 2021

Poem 61 – The Touch of Frost

The touch of frost caresses me, running
It’s icy fingers across my earthly skin
And tracing limb and fold they penetrate
With cold embrace that draws from me a moan
Its bitter kiss breathes chill into my bones
An intimacy that lasts until love thaws

We woke today to find the outside world white with frost, a magical scene, at least from the warm indoors that is!

© Ben Quant 2021

Poem 60 – North Shropshire

Fun and games at
The children’s bash
But after the sugar rush
Comes the crash

Forgive this cheeky four-liner, but waking to the news today, it just popped into my head….
Every parent quickly learns the mistake of pumping their children full of sweets at a party, but perhaps Boris is only just discovering the consequences.


© Ben Quant 2021

Poem 59 – The Solo

So dark. It
Seems night’s deep blue has
Successfully silenced our
Skies. Victory appears
Secure until a lone
Soloist rebels, urgently
Sounding its call
Summoning us
Swiftly from our
Slumbers. How, so
Small, does it
Sing so loud? Hark,
Slowly, companions’
Songs join, resistance
Swelling until their
Symphony usurps
Silence. Day resumes

Okay, I know I said I was going to take a break, but the sound of a lone bird valiantly defying the darkness as I put on the kettle this morning caught my imagination. Why the alliteration? No idea, it just happened that way.

© Ben Quant 2021

Poem 58 – Service Update

Poetic delays
Caused by congestion ahead
Expect disruption

Discovering right now that writing daily poems and running a church during Advent and preparing for a viva, is a little too much. Normal service will be resumed in due course…

© Ben Quant 2021

Poem 57 – Season’s End

All gone! The brilliant greens and vivid blues
Are drained of their vitality as winter
Cuts it’s teeth and autumn fades
Its timorous light barely heats before
Withdrawing into early evening dark
And even our speech seems subdued
Under the laden air that heavily hangs
Until whispering we withdraw home too

The usually colourful Lea Valley suddenly felt dulled on today’s afternoon walk.

© Ben Quant 2021

Poem 56 – The Egret

The egret stalked midstream
It’s skinny old man’s legs
Somehow supportive as
Swollen knees protruding
It slowly made its way
Along the water course
This startling vision seemed
Discordant, incongruous
Ancient and exotic
A purposeful hunter
Stalking between concrete
Suburban banks and shops

Walking into Cheshunt we were startled today by a flash of white by the roadside. Looking into the ditch, an egret elegantly walked alongside us!

© Ben Quant 2021

Poem 55 – Power Pick and Mix

If you could choose a super power what would you choose?
Would it be flight so you could soar above the clouds?
Unrivalled strength perhaps or maybe turn
Invisible for mischief, fun and games?
Alternatively opt for freezing breath
And make our Christmas dreams come true with snow
Or twist and turn with bendability
That stretchy flexi human miracle!
And yet it seems to me that none of these
Can solve the greatest problem that we face
In vast metropolis or village small
Of how to lift not weights but loneliness
Not seeing through with piercing x-ray eyes
But looking into souls with loving grace

Watched the first episode of Superman and Lois on BBC iPlayer today…

© Ben Quant 2021

Poem 54 – Treasure Trove

The sleep filled night’s reset allows this day
To offer bounteous riches graciously
Announced by dawn’s gold highlights on
My lover’s waking face laid next to mine

A friend then calls and asks me how I am
His care uplifting, lightening my load
Shared precious memories fluttering into view
Whilst I sip on my morning cup of tea

My diary open, it reveals unborn
Appointments all arrayed awaiting birth
These sparkling stones upon the jeweller’s shelf
Inviting me to reach and put them on

My trove today seems full and overflows
Its wealth the envy of all chancellors
Is it like this each day, I wonder, but
In haste I’m blind and unappreciative?

A series of early incidents caused me to ‘count my blessings’ this morning.

(Edited to improve the rhythm)

© Ben Quant 2021