Author: BenDQ

Poem 584 – Beware the Tech!

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This new fangled technology!
It’s not like back when we were young,
back then we talked to one another,
communicated face to face.
But now? They’re all distracted, dumb,
fixed stares, eyes down, lost in the page,
retreating from community;
the printing press has killed the art
of conversation. If this continues,
who knows the damage there could be!

I get worries about the impact of screen time, but at the same time, I suspect it’s all been said before…
(22.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Paul Hanaoka on Unsplash

Poem 583 – Seduced

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Through my kitchen window I spot you pass,
a lady in red, swaggering with an easy
confidence. A stranger to my garden,
you pause to pose in stripey tiger print.
You don’t belong and yet you captivate me
with your exotic ways; my tiger moth.

It isn’t just grasshoppers in our garden this year, for the first time I recall, there’s a number of beautiful Jersey Tiger Moths fluttering around, along with a variety of butterflies.
(21.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo Jean-Pol GRANDMONT, CC BY 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Poem 582 – Life Abounds!

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It’s time to tame the lawn, to mow the meadow.
Spring’s growth is done, the flowers’ beauty faded,
and all that are left are dry and browning stalks.

I venture out, the mower pushed before me,
and suddenly what’s dead springs back to life;
a thousand hidden grasshoppers leaping skywards.

The river bursts its banks and overflows,
spilling forth, a rushing roiling flow
of boiling, bubbling, exuberance let loose.

For a moment I feel lost among the waves,
I’m all at sea, but gradually the turmoil
fades and I finally find my way again.

‘No Mow May’ slipped into ‘Let It Bloom June’ and found it’s way into July, but finally I needed to reclaim the lawn. Mowing revealed just how much life had taken up residence in the meantime.
(20.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Ngan Nguyen on Unsplash

Poem 581 – New River in the Rain

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The trees’ reflections are stirred,
obscured by whirling eddies
that form along the bank.
Concentric circles overlap,
and dancing dissipate.
Delineation blurs as
the air moistens, merging
with the flow below.
Darting swifts live up to
their names catching disturbed
insects on the wing.
Suspended spiders’ webs,
glistening silver-plated,
adorn the grassy fence,
whilst blackberries, freshly washed,
hang low from laden branches,
dressed in mourning tones.
A cormorant smiles and dives,
oblivious to the tears.

It’s down to rain all day, but regardless, we snatched a walk between deluges along the New River, built to feed water to London to the south. My new raincoat kept the rain out.
(19.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Jackie Best on Unsplash

Poem 580 – Jazz Hunt

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I’m searching for the swing,
Staccato syncopation,
Digging deep to find
Those dark and husky notes.

I’m summoning up the spirit,
Reaching for the vibe, of
Adderley, Rollins, Shorter,
Past masters of the ‘phone..

I’m seeking out the style,
A yearning aspiration,
To find perfection’s rhythm
And move both heart and soul.

A few weeks in and I’ve realised that, although I’m never going to be a master, I might just be able to get to a reasonable standard with continued practice.
(18.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash

Poem 579 – Farewell Year 6

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Farewell Year 6, it’s been a laugh.
Grab shirts and pens and autograph!
Big fish, small pond, it’s time to leave,
Your future’s bright so we believe.
The things you’ve learnt while you’ve been here,
Will serve you well, so keep them near.
Remember friends, grow tall, grow strong,
We pray God’s blessing on what’s to come!

One of the joys of my job is being involved in the life of our local primary schools. Today it was Leavers’ Services day, here’s a prayer/poem I wrote and used at one of them.
(17.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by byquincy on Unsplash

Poem 578 – ‘Keep Yer Eye on the Ball’

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At school, ball games were never my thing.
I could score goals … but only in my own net
(that childhood tournament haunts me still).
I’d knock my own bails off in cricket matches
and never keep a tennis ball in court.
My humble stature left me overwhelmed
in rugby’s crush and overlooked in basketball.

Today the fear returned. Invited back
onto the field to join the staff in battle,
I grasped the rounders bat and tried to banish
the rising sense of shame; ‘Oh no, it’s Ben’
I heard again. But then, another childhood
chant emerged unbidden from the past.
I heard at last the call, ‘Just keep yer eye
upon the ball!’ and with these words in mind
I faced the bowler and swiftly swung my bat.

And with that swing I banished both the ball
and school-hood shame, as with astonishment
I watched it fly through crowd and air and ran,
and ran, around base one and two and three,
and reached the final post before the fall.
What bliss! What cheers! Redemption’s mine!
Salvation found within that skyward ball!

This afternoon I arrived at school prepared for the annual humiliation of the Year 6 Vs Staff and clergy rounders match.
(16.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Ross Sneddon on Unsplash