Tonight I write a line or two to keep
A habit flowing forwards. Like a stream,
Sometimes it finds itself a driving force,
But other days it ambles round slow bends
and detours, lost in dreams and dozy swells.
But either way the current calls it on,
An irresistible tug, a tide, demanding,
‘Cast your words into the aching blue.’

Writing a daily poem has become a deeply engrained habit. I’d feel wrong if I didn’t.
(25.02.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by ANHELINA OSAULENKO on Unsplash