The conductor lifts his baton
The audience falls silent
.
.
.
.
.
A stifled cough
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.
.
.
.
Rapturous applause!
My head is full of other matters today, and empty when it came to writing. Got me thinking about a poetic version of John Cage’s silent orchestral piece.
(11.01.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Kristina Flour on Unsplash
Some days we do amazing things:
mend broken hearts, help those in need,
and make the world a better place.
Some days I reach that perfect note,
and find a satisfying rhyme or
fly faster or further on my bike.
Today is not that day.
Today I tarried in my bed,
then read a book and tidied up,
and finally did some shopping.
Enjoyed a mundane day today when nothing exceptional happened. Sometimes that is perfect.
(10.01.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Blaz Photo on Unsplash
Amidst the chaos there lies a line.
It weaves a way, a golden thread
of grace, not chalk or string, through life’s
varied and unpredictable maze.
A fragile thing, at first it seems
too fine, invisible and prone,
and yet, persistent, it somehow snakes
through life’s ragged ups and downs.
A golden thread that is not precious,
that rolls up its well worn sleeves,
knows life in all its care and messiness,
that dares to tread the dangerous street.
It does not force, or bend, or break,
it simply finds a way for feet to trace
when eyes are dark, imagination
spent. This path is known as love.
It’s been a week of trying to find a way through some tricky pastoral situations.
(09.01.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Vasilica Ciocan on Unsplash
Water sloshes from the sky like ocean waves
Crashing recklessly over the pavements,
Whilst rivers run, white rapids down the roads,
Tumbling torrents full of energy.
Crashing recklessly over the pavements,
Flushing the world within its hungry wake,
The storm’s a torrent full of energy,
A hungry deluge devouring the darkened sky.
Flushing the world within its hungry wake,
The urgent raindrops drum incessantly,
A hungry deluge devouring the darkened sky
Whilst sunshine hides its light in guilty shame.
The urgent raindrops drum incessantly
As rivers run, white rapids down the roads.
The sunshine hides its light in guilty shame
Whilst water sloshes from the sky in waves.
I enjoyed writing the pantoum a couple of days ago, and so thought I’d try another on this rainy day.
(08.01.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Kostiantyn Li on Unsplash
Other things matter
Poetry must stand aside
Until tomorrow
A poetic placeholder.
(07.01.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Jill Heyer on Unsplash
There’s tension in knowing
The battery is full
Which should be enough
But it’s cold outside
And the gap between
Mileage and miles
Is closing and closing
In front of your eyes
As muscles are tensing
Suspense keeps on growing
But you keep on going
As warnings start glowing
Until…
…ahh
With great satisfaction
You glide to a stop
You made it okay
Just ten miles on the clock.
A long day’s driving the EV the cold. Took a calculated gamble and didn’t stop to charge.
(06.01.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Joshua Fernandez on Unsplash
The night is dark and cold, another world.
Inside, the dark house creaks, could it be haunted?
A creature crashes against the neighbour’s fence,
accompanied by the roar of a passing bike.
The dark house creaks, could it be haunted?
My wife breathes alongside me oblivious,
accompanied by the roar of a passing bike.
Somewhere a lover argues on his phone.
My wife breathes alongside me oblivious.
Meanwhile rubbish blows along the pavement
as a drunken lover argues on his phone;
two strangers drifting under the dusty moon.
As rubbish blows along the empty pavement,
a creature crashes against the neighbour’s fence;
two strangers adrift under the dusty moon.
The night is dark and cold, another world.
A pantoum in response to a post by Pádraig Ó Tuama.
(05.01.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Gary Fultz on Unsplash
To the tune of Hark the Herald…
Father God we thank you for:
Family that comes from all over,
Children and grandchildren that bring us joy,
New friends, old friends, good friends getting older,
Dogs and goldfish, don’t forget the guinea pigs,
Health and healing, sunshine and the rain,
180 thousand raised so far
and lots of guests on our Alpha.
Father God we thank you for
Mercy and forgiveness that on us you pour!
Last Sunday, we drew up a list of things we were grateful for from the year that was just finishing. It was suggested that perhaps we could make a song out of them, so here they are, slightly adapted, as used in our service today to the tune of a well-known Christmas carol.
(04.01.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Wilhelm Gunkel on Unsplash
Distracted today
Out of imagination
Maybe tomorrow
(03.01.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Annie Spratton Unsplash
The winter’s sky, the bitter pale,
Bites our faces and bleaches soil,
Its cutting sun burns scars in our sight,
With crispness of air and blinding light.
The iron ground and crinkling step,
That crunches under frozen foot,
Is joined above by a piercing breeze,
Whipping shivering birds and naked trees.
And we, caressed by dying sun,
In melancholy are undone,
And looking forward count the cost,
Mourning the things that aren’t yet lost.
Inspired by a chilly walk and a line I read today.
(02.01.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Polina Kuzovkova on Unsplash
Ode for the Day 