I patched, I pumped, I pedalled.
Like Caesar’s veni , vidi , vici, today I triumphed.
(03.12.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by paolo candelo on Unsplash
Author: BenDQ
Poem 371 – Punctures
I always fall into the trap
of thinking that this time it will be
an easy fix. It never is.
Two of them. One on each wheel. One after the other.
(02.12.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Vlad Smolyakov on Unsplash
Poem 370 – Advent
A collective holding of breath,
the growing anticipation.
The draining down of sand
and dawning realisation.
A sense of something changing,
reversal of the tide.
The night is nearly over,
the day is close at hand.
It’s the first day of advent, the season when Christians look forward to the coming of Christ, both at Christmas and his return when he’ll make all things new.
(01.12.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Emmanuel Appiah on Unsplash
Poem 369 – The Advent Wreath
The hedge was out of control,
its branches lined their vicious
spikes beyond the fence,
like medieval pikemen
stood ready for the charge.
There was but one reply!
I grabbed my shears and set
about their ranks with wild
abandon, sending limbs
flying in every direction.
Resisting, they made their mark:
my blood was shed, but alas,
for them, victory was mine
as fast they fell, and soon
lay scattered on the ground.
But this was not the end.
In remembrance I gathered the fallen,
twisting them into a wreath
and hanging them on the door;
a holly crown for the Christ.
I spent this morning pruning our hedgerow, including the holly bush. I’ve often pondered making my own wreath, and so today I gave it a go, at least the holly framework. Tomorrow, perhaps, I’ll add a splash of colour to go with it.
(30.11.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
Poem 368 – Friday Night
Slouched on the sofa
Watching programmes on the box
With my other half
It’s the weekend. A night to relax.
(29.11.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Michael DeMoya on Unsplash
Poem 367 – A Forest in Miniature
Crouch down, zoom in, and you’ll find a quantum forest,
a reaching canopy in miniature splendour that
rises in vast and alien complexity.
This leafy spread isn’t formed of trees but lichen,
the mystical two in one and one in two,
fungus and algae cryptically combined.
Hidden in plain sight, these ecological
marvels stretch out, decorating graves
and bridges; nature the original street artist.
I noticed recently that, while I wasn’t looking, lichen has spread out its swathes across the railway footbridge at the foot of our road. It’s a weird and mysterious organism, a combination of algae and fungus, but what is the nature of their relationship and are they / is it one organism or two?
(28.11.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Poem 366 – Currently 2-0
I should be writing a poem,
But it’s been a busy day,
Dealing with toddlers,
Shifting food,
Discussing the Bible,
Talking to church members,
Now the day’s done, and
Liverpool are beating Madrid,
So this will have to do.
Hopefully that’s game, set and match (to mix sports!)
(27.11.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Jannes Glas on Unsplash
Poem 365 – First Steps
First year of poems:
Three hundred and sixty five
Taking baby steps
They might not have been written daily, but that’s a year’s worth done. I’m definitely still finding my way, trying things out, a toddler of verse, but I’m having a lot of fun doing so.
(26.11.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Fernanda Greppe on Unsplash
Poem 364 – The Atlantic
The black rises and falls, like living onyx.
Immense and thick, it breaths and broods, an alien
being in whom we sit so small and vulnerable.
We steer, propelling ourselves forward, but know
our motions are inexorably tied to its.
One idle flick, one twitch, would see us thrown
and sink into its oblivious arms and folds;
so vast this creature knows nor loves us not.
Going out on our small boat to seek dolphin in the Atlantic was a humbling encounter.
(25.11.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Thomas Vimare on Unsplash
Poem 363 – 24th November
In our family, I suspect like many others,
the night before Christmas Eve is Christmas Eve Eve,
but what about the night a month before?
By now I have compiled a list of all
the tasks, and services, and carol concerts
to be conducted within that month.
There are cards to write and gifts to find and pack,
a turkey, cake and pud to source and cook,
and house to tidy before the family come.
This wall of tasks stands seemingly impregnable,
demanding time and creativity,
an imposing rock face needing to be scaled.
It will be daunting, how can we do it again?
What can I find to say, when all’s been said
and done? The pressure builds and builds.
However, the reckless thrill of expectation
draws me on, the joyful promise of
a labour’s end, found in Messiah’s birth.
We might not have started Advent yet, but there’s no getting away from the fact that the countdown has begun…
(24.11.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Edi Bouazza on Unsplash
Ode for the Day 