Eight players striving
To beat the other seven;
Only one can win.
Through laughter, they discover,
All emerge victorious.
A riotous evening of 6 Nimmt.
(31.07.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Month: Jul 2025
Poem 642 – Free
Here, I’m safe to cast aside my faces,
not letting them slip, but tossing them without
a thought onto a pile heaped on the floor;
peeling off the accumulated layers,
revealing the pink and tender skin beneath,
exposing scars and fragile dreams and joys.
I wander naked and without a care,
secure that you will never laugh and point.
This is no mutually assured destruction,
love predicated on the fear of tit-
for-tat, but mutually assumed devotion.
I’ve been writing a series of devotional notes based upon the theme of rest. It struck me that you can only truly rest when you are able to relax about being yourself. It is a privilege to be able to find others with whom you can do this.
(30.07.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Andre Mouton on Unsplash
Poem 641 – Absent
Your absence wakes me,
Shakes me into consciousness,
Shouts into my ear,
I want you near, not far.
I keenly sense the space,
You occupied beside me,
The contours of the gap,
You usually fill. I will you back,
Recall your weight, your scent,
Your quiet breathing,
The gravitational pull that,
Holds me in your orbit.
I am contorted, my life abhors
This vacuum that has resulted.
It cannot be filled until
Your peace comes back
And yes, at last, resolves it.
Despite the late journey back yesterday, I woke early this morning, and this poem tumbled out.
(29.07.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Madi Doell on Unsplash
Poem 640 – An Existential Crisis at the Services
A late night stop at the services
having just found the M4 was closed.
‘I guess you see all sorts in here?’ I asked.
‘Yes’, replied the woman in Costa,
‘The weird and the wonderful!’ She laughed.
I left with a life saving coffee,
wondering which, if either, was me.
A long day helping my daughter decorating. Diverted on the way home.
(28.07.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Blake Verdoorn on Unsplash
Poem 639 – At the Service Station
Transient people on the
move exchanging places.
Babies over parents’
shoulders, bleary faces.
Food you’d never normally
buy, inflated prices.
Nicknack stalls and wonky
stacks of bright suitcases.
Warning by the loos
attendants of both sexes.
Children bribed with chocolate,
caffeine shots ingested.
Stopped at the M4 services on the way to Bristol today.
(27.07.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Gerardo Bonifacio on Unsplash
Poem 638 – Der Teufel
Der Teufel prances at the roadside,
His pitchfork pricking passing cyclists,
Urging them ever onwards with
His insane eyes and inane chanting.
This Devil isn’t that of legend,
Instead an ever present fan,
Accompanied by his wild inventions
In every stage of every Tour.
And as the race comes to its end
On free TV here in the UK,
I find myself in the strange position
Of realising I’ll miss Ol’ Nick.
The Tour is so much more than just a race, for example there are many characters that make its backdrop. Didi Senft is one of them, a German who stands at the roadside each stage dressed as the Devil. Only on the Tour…
(26.07.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
I, Kuebi, CC BY-SA 3.0 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/, via Wikimedia Commons
Poem 637 – Pandemic
Mutation strikes
As genes combine
The virus is subverted
Now virulent
The strain now spreads
The world is now alerted
Working as one
Combining minds
Our efforts are concerted
Against all odds
The world is saved
Impending doom diverted
Pandemic has been a favourite boardgame for some time now, although we haven’t played for a while. Took it out for a spin tonight, and for a while it looked like we had no chance, but somehow we managed to hang on to win!
(25.07.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Poem 636 – Identity Theft
One moment I was me
The me I’ve always been
But suddenly I find
My name is actually Lynne
I didn’t know I’d bought
A new iPhone 16
And sent it to an address
In a house I don’t live in
My phone has been delivered
To a hand that isn’t mine
I’ve not done anything wrong
But still committed a crime
Joy of joys, someone has used my email address to take out a contract in a new phone from Sky…
(24.07.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Daniel Romero on Unsplash
Poem 635 – An Ode to Mount Ventoux
Ventoux, on whom legends are made,
Your mythical mountain slopes loom high.
Reaching beyond the trees, your lunar
Landscape, stark and steep, melds sky
And space, a place where heroes race:
Poulidour, Merckx, Pantani, Virenque,
You gifted glory to their wins.
Pogačar battled, Chris Froome ran,
Forever Simpson cycles on,
But you, Ventoux, remain the true
Pinnacle, the hero of le Tour.
I only caught up with yesterday’s stage in the Tour de France this morning, a stunning stage of full blooded racing, but as always, the lingering image will always be not the riders but the mount itself.
(23.07.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Lucas Gallone on Unsplash
Poem 634 – Semi Final Suspense
Last minute,
final breath,
time
stands
still
until…
the roar!!!!!
Bonus poem today after the footie.
What. A. Turnaround.
(22.07.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Chaos Soccer Gear on Unsplash
Ode for the Day 