Poem 182 – Scarred

Apr 10, 2023Apr 10, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Our scars are pinned upon us,
a transcript of past hurts
inscribed upon our flesh
so that we don’t forget.
This catalogue of incident,
like DNA, describes us.

Below, a deeper inventory:
the scars torn in our hearts,
witnesses to past pains,
which also carved our character,
etching personality.

Easter morn and scars
still marked the risen Christ.
Incongruous wounds? Not these.
Without them he’s reduced,
Messiah undone, no victory won,
a shadow of a saviour.
They’re how we know it’s him.

One day we’ll also rise,
but will our grave-born bodies
enjoy disfigurement,
stigmata of past battles
displayed in celebration?
Or will our newborn skin
be left bereft and clean?
If so, I have to ask,
will we be recognisable?

An Easter poem. Will the life to come render our current experiences irrelevant, or do they count, even the tough ones. A sequel of sorts to Poem 181. I might come back to this; it’s not quite there, but close enough to express my thoughts.
(10.04.23)

Poem 181 – Good Friday

Apr 7, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

What does it mean, this scene so strange?
Darkness descends to shroud the skies
Creator enters creation to die
The pregnant earth gives birth once more
A way from heaven to earth is torn
Centurion spies the Son and mourns
In death, it seems, a kingdom’s born

A short verse inspired by Matthew 27:45-54.
(06.04.23)

Poem 180 – Riverbank Sketches: The Great Crested Grebe

Mar 30, 2023Mar 30, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

With oriental flare,
the grebe attracts attention.
Her sublime looks and slender
lines are carefully honed.
Exotic, not like other birds,
she owns her stage.
Checking all eyes are on
her, paparazzi ready,
she poses
to applause.

I don’t get to see these so often as other birds, but always appreciate them when I do. So distinct, they demand attention.
(30.03.23)

Poem 179 – Riverbank Sketches III: The Heron

Mar 29, 2023Mar 30, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Stood by his office window, the silent
partner waits, serene and straight.
Beneath his greying brows, two keen
and wizened eyes, gaze out.

He waits. And waits. And waits. Until
incisively he strikes; a single
dart with ballet dancer poise.
Replete, he struts away.

So often we almost walk past these ‘old men’ of the river without noticing they’re there. Such graceful birds.
(29.03.23)

© Ben Quant 2023

Poem 178 – Riverbank Sketches II: The Coot

Mar 28, 2023Mar 28, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

New born, an angry punk
with shaven head, bright red,
shrill, urgent and demanding.

Nearby the parent swims.
Respectability
acquired, grown-up, it hides its
defiant past beneath
a comic exterior
of bloated feet and drab
commuter dress of black
and white.

But stray too close and watch
the rebel wake. With gun
fire spray of clacking beak
and furied charge across
the water, this crazy street
fighter fights mean not clean,
the threats soon flee now fly.
Behind with arms aloft
it cries its battle cry,
uncouth obscenities
of bloody consequence
should you once more defy
its patch. Return? You’ll die…

The violence is only momentary,
the furious flapping soon fades,
replaced by a tentative cease-fire.
With peace restored you might
reflect the scene just seen
was more a case of Benny
Hill than Al Capone.
But my advice is keep
this to yourself. She’s watching you.

I’ve always enjoyed looking out for coffee since reading Arthur Ransom’s ‘Coot Club’. Living here, I’ve really got to know them, watching their life cycles and displays thoroughout the year. Bonkers and loveable.
(28.03.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Charles J. Sharp, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

Poem 177 – The End

Mar 27, 2023Mar 27, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

The closing chapter,
the final leg,
I’m almost home.

No longer looking
back but forward,
my destination
hoves into view;
the uneven creasing
of the spine
accompanied by
evasive wriggling.

Compelled I pick
up speed. I find
I’m skipping words
and tumbling over
myself to reach the
closing full stop.

But even as
I strive, inside
a simultaneous
braking competes.
Although my story
draws me on
I find I do
not want my journey’s
end. Not yet.

I’m currently reading Simon Armitage’s ‘Walking Home’, the account of his journey along the Pennine Way, enabled by the hospitality of strangers and poetry readings. Towards the end he recounts the unexpected feeling of not being elated at approaching home, having slipped into the habitualised routine of walking; a feeling not confined to walking.
(27.03.23)

Poem 176 – Riverbank Sketches I: The Cormorant

Mar 25, 2023Mar 28, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

He holds his head up high
to look down upon us.
His curled haughty lips
suggest amusement.
I doubt he’s ever glimpsed
his own reflection in
the ripples – unless his smirk
disguises self-denial.

The cormorant’s smile caught my attention as we walked along the Lea yesterday. I’ve grown to love these comical birds, so graceful in the water, yet so clumsy looking in the air or on the bank wings outstretched to dry.
(24.03.23)

Poem 175 – Soundscape

Mar 24, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

The wind’s white noise cannons against my ears
along with percussive rattling of jostling trees.
A distant car alarm melds with an avian
sentry, sounding an urgent, shrill reveille.
The muffled sound of barking blends into
the lapping of the usually languid Lea.
Astride their balance bikes, delighted children
point out serendipitous discoveries.

A blowy day for a lunchtime stroll by the River Lea.
(24.03.23)

Poem 174 – Fusion Cooking

Mar 23, 2023Mar 23, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Ingredients:
blend together
two unrelated
cuisines or musical
languages

Outcome:
a fusion dish
of novel taste
an auditory
revelation

Ingredients:
two particles
accelerated
at speed into
a forced collision

Outcome:
explosive wave
of energy
reveals sub-
atomic secrets

Ingredients:
grab unrelated
ideas and hurl
together hard
to see what happens

Outcome:
metaphorical
generation
conceives surprising
ideas and insights

Ingredients:
a man, a woman
heat up their hormones
stir DNA
and leave to sit

Outcome:
new life erupts
through pain and joy
familiar yet
distinctly different

But still…
we build
our walls
close down
the channels
shut down
surprise
take cover
behind
our slogans
fearful
of what
might be
and be
discovered

This started life as a poem about poems and metaphors for World Poetry Day, but finished up as something quite different as I combined not just this and other interests of mine whilst reflecting on a local hotel housing asylum seekers.
(23.03.23)

Poem 173 – Service Required

Mar 21, 2023Mar 21, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Hello sir, what can we do for you?
A mystery sensation when you pedal?
Hmm, might be the bottom bracket’s bearings,
is there a crunching when you turn the cranks?
Those pedals, are they new? Perhaps your cleats
are loose or worn. Let’s strip her down and change
your chain, it’s stretched and straining the cassette.
Your derailleurs look dodgy, did you know
(a cheeky wink) that wheels have nipples.
We’ll check your cables and their casing, rust
can stop their operation, make them snag.
Same for your brakes, your callipers and levers,
and let’s index those gears to make them smooth.
But sir, I hate to say it but I must,
have you considered that another factor
might be at play? Perhaps it’s not the bike
that creaks (a wince), perhaps it’s you.
Maybe the grinding’s in your knees, the pain
comes from a back that’s old and worn. I fear
There’s not so much that we can do…
for you.

I find when I’m cycling for any length of time that I begin to obsess about the sound and feel of my bike. The smallest thing becomes amplified until I become convinced there’s something wrong. Am I just looking for an excuse, or looking in the wrong place?
(21.03.23)

Ode for the Day

An experiment in poetic doodling

Author: BenDQ