Seven years on
A return to the mountain
Back on the slopes with
A shot at redemption
A facing down demons
Of sapping defeat
The pedals are turned
The cycle’s complete.
After losing the Giro d’Italia on the slopes of the Colle delle Finestre in 2018, it was wonderful to see Simon Yates return victoriously today.
(31.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Munbaik Cycling Clothing on Unsplash
Farewell Major Houlihan,
The rose within ‘The Swamp’.
I never understood just what
You saw in Major Frank.
Or how you coped with Hawkeye Pierce
Or B. J. Hunnicutt,
The crossdressing of Corporal Klingor,
The madness of the camp.
But this I know, without your heart,
And mastery of stitching,
Our MAS*H would tear itself apart,
Its characters conflicted.
I was saddened to hear of the death of Loretta Swit, famous for playing Major Margaret “Hot Lips” Houlihan in MAS*H, today.
(30.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Image Public Domain
Slowly we alight the sudden hill,
peeling back time as we ascend,
and as we do the Red Arrows fly by,
roaring past in perfect V formation.
They feel incongruous.
Timeless, above us all the cathedral reaches,
Imposing in its majesty it flies,
sundering our sense of time and scale.
Looking up, I lose identity,
and teetter on the edge of consciousness.
But even this transcendent edifice
is left behind. Upon its parapets
a peregrine perches, impervious to our whims.
Stretching, it commands the attention of
the distant minions gathering down beneath.
Meanwhile, one like a son of man ascends.
Upon the clouds he climbs to heaven’s throne,
and there, upon his head, the Ancient One
bestows an eternal crown and with it all glory
majesty and power for evermore!
We spent Ascension Day in Lincoln, where much to my delight we spotted peregrine falcons perched upon the cathedral. A truly awesome sight.
(29.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Rory Tucker on Unsplash
The rain comes down as soon as I
step from the car into its time.
The crying of a peacock lends
an eerie chill, disturbs my spine.
Forgotten gardens, ruined mansions,
midnight strolls and walking statues.
This shell reminds me of the dramas
that wrote the landscape of my childhood.
I half expect to see the ghost
of Queen Elizabeth drift by
the corner of my eye, as I,
survey the walls and roofless ceilings.
We walk in hushed, respectful tones
to navigate its sandstone bones,
and roam within its fading grandeur,
and marvel at this skeletal wonder.
Today we called in on Kirby Hall on the way to visit my parents. An amazing building.
(28.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
A photo taken at high speed,
I find myself a smeared shadow.
Caught in the instant, its movement is
uncertain, full of the tension found
between two possibilities.
This indecisive Schrödinger moment,
leaves its unseen plotlines hanging.
An odd day today. Between things.
(27.05.25)
The simple joy
of waking up,
remembering,
then going back
to sleep.
It’s always nice having a day off after a Sunday!
(26.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Kate Stone Matheson on Unsplash
From one giant to another,
colossi in defence,
composed and fleet of foot,
poetic in elegance.
Well versed in form and motion,
bewitching with their rhyme,
possessing the canny knack,
of arriving just in time.
These masters of their art,
one hand on either handle,
bridging generations,
the passing of the mantle.
Liverpool FC were awarded the Premier League Trophy today, with a hero of my childhood, Alan Hansen, passing the trophy to Virgil van Dijk, a hero of today.
(25.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Source of photo unknown
Trying to impose
Order despite the ingrained
Habits of the world
Doing the chores
(24.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Immo Wegmann on Unsplash
On your marks…. Go!
So off we went, a drumming
river flowing round
the field in endless circles.
Some formed gentle eddies,
whilst others became torrents,
crashing waters surging
forwards with urgency.
Let’s run with zest the Head
had said and so we did,
with cheers and tears and joy,
remembering why we ran.
We poured until our muscles
ached and lungs were spent,
then flung ourselves upon
the shore in celebration.
I joined a local primary school for their annual run to remember a further student who sadly passed away. As always the pupils and community were great.
(23.05.25)
It’s nine o’clock and so
Creation’s curtains close,
drawn by a flock of starlings
heading home to bed.
Every night, as regular as clockwork!
(22.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash
Ode for the Day 