Author: BenDQ

Poem 352 – The Slide

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The source of so many lessons:
Do not climb up the slope
or throw yourself from the top.
Take your go in turns
and don’t push others off.
Use your head but always
descend the slide feet first.
Make sure the way is clear
before taking flight.
Expect to be involved
in a collision if you play at the bottom.
Toy cars pushed down with force
do not have workable breaks…

It was Toddlers this morning, which always makes great people watching, especially if the smaller variety!
(13.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024

Poem 351 – Abracadabra

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Sophie’s magic trick
“Masquerading as a male”
Fools Magic Circle

9th December 1991, the Magic Circle finally allowed women to join their ranks, only to find that one already had! Sophie Lloyd, disguised as Raymond, had earned her place. With the decision of the Circle she revealed her true identity, and was promptly kicked out… Now, the Circle is trying to find her again, in order to invite her back.
(12.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Sergi Viladesau on Unsplash

Poem 350 – Eleven O’Clock

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Was there a moment when the bombing stopped,
that the world stood still and all fell silent?
Did the clouds pause in their heavenly paths,
the birds stop their song, and stand in branches?
Did rats and mice cease their scurrying
to survey the scene in curiosity?
The sergeant’s call to attention issued, the trees
no longer swayed but stood alert and upright.
Church organs held their breath, their anthems hanging
discordant, waiting to find their resolution,
while city hawkers gripped unfurled headline posters, the news as yet to be confirmed.

A poem for Armistice Day.
(11.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Diana Parkhouse on Unsplash

Poem 349 – Remember

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Pin on the poppies
Line up the flags

Lay out the wreaths
Grieve for the past

Stand still in silence
Remember the dead

Hold onto our history
Learn from those left

I had the privilege today of speaking at our local Scout Group’s Remembrance Sunday event.
(10.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024

The Portugal Poems

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I’ve been away the last week. Does this mean I haven’t been writing poetry? No! I’ve kept up the one poem a day pattern that I’ve got back into recently, but I keep them private until I returned, aware that I didn’t want to advertise too far and wide that our easily identifiable house was vacant. Here they are:

Poem 348 – Endings

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The wistful ache of final farewells,
a sadness, blended with homeward joy,
that always builds as holidays end.

One last stroll along your ochre sands,
and clamber up your cacti cliffs,
to feel your breath upon my face.

Take summer shirts from where they hang
and fold them in our sandy bags.
Another sweep to clear the room.

And just like that it’s over.
(09.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024

Poem 347 – Dolphin Hunting

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This brooding landscape’s constantly on the move,
a bewitching vista, coyly teasing us with
fleeting hints and passing apparitions.
A shape catches in the corner of the eye.
You turn only to find it’s gone and all
that’s left’s a question, hanging in its place.
Hoping that amongst these surging peaks they
may be found, we press on through the waves.
What’s that? You spin, a flash of grey lifted
above the spray, but no, it’s just a fish.
This false hope dashed, gone with the darkened waves,
and so time ebbs away and with it passes hope.
Resigning ourselves to disappointment, we pretend
the caves were enough. Too loud we cry, ‘All’s good!’
Bracing ourselves with bravado we turn for home,
and then, and only then, the waves are broken,
as up towards the cheering sky it soars!

At the third time of asking, our boat ‘sailed’ today. Two years ago we took this excursion along the coastal caves and then out to hunt for dolphins. We enjoyed it so much we had to take the family this time around. Dolphins? No joy, but we were finished to see leading tuna as we turned for home.
(08.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024

Poem 346 – Upon My Back

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The warmth picks its spot,
Carefully centres its cross hairs,
And squeezes on the trigger

Gradually the pressure builds
And joyfully radiates
From this central bull’s-eye.

Massaging the tender
Muscle, it coaxes it to
Relax and begin to smile.

I pulled something in my back a couple of days ago. I’ve no idea when or how, it just suddenly was! Sitting by the inside pool, however, the sun performs wonderful therapy.
(07.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024

Poem 344 – Fawkes’ Face

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We are surrounded by so many faces.
I play the game of guess the nationality.
Sometimes I get it right but most not.
‘That’s an American’ becomes a Swede;
the Pole is Portugese; the Irish, Dutch,
the ‘dead-cert German’, a Geordie; and every
other transpires to be a Liverpudlian.
On this day when we remember Guido,
perhaps this ambiguity matters most.

There is great people watching to be had at the hotel at mealtimes…
(05.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024