Poem 172 – Life’s Cycle

Mar 15, 2023Jun 6, 2025 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Tonight we buried a newt,
a cheeky chap who kept
his gills, those pink and flappy
fronds that waved hello.
A Peter Pan who stayed
in Neverland’s waters
from whence he cheered us on.
He’d flit and spin in joy
with energy unbounded,
confounding expectation.
Alas, eternal youth
ran out, Tick-Tock caught up.
We laid you by the pond
and as we did a nearby
dart alerted us to
the first newt of the spring.
The cycle begins again.

To Dennis, our delightful friend.

We have a small garden pond in our garden which became home to numerous young newts last year, some of whom were adopted and brought inside. Sadly one passed away yesterday. He’ll be missed.
(15.03.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Piet Spaans shared under CC Licence 2.5

Poem 171 – The Longest Ride

Mar 3, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

My longest ride awaits.
The bike is set and shoes
await for me to slip
them on and clip them in.
They sit and beckon yet
I hesitate, it’s been
too long since I have pushed
myself this far. I wonder,
do I have the legs or will
they turn to futile mush,
betray me? Foolishly
I’ve shared my plans. The only
choice is suffering
embarrassment or pain.
Too late I speculate:
why do we test ourselves
like this? I sigh, reach out
and put them on and leave…

Today I’m killing two birds with one stone. I have a midday meeting in Cambridge and decided to use it as a training exercise ahead of the London-Essex 100 in May, and am cycling up and back. It’s just under 80 miles. It sounded fun when I first mentioned it. Today it feels a little daunting…
I’m raising funds for Parkinson’s UK – sponsor my London 100 efforts here: https://events.parkinsons.org.uk/fundraisers/benquant/ride-london-100
(03.03.23)

Poem 170 – To Those Tempted to Censor

Feb 21, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Don’t steal my words,
make me say what I did not say.
If I’m offensive either
be offended or do not listen.
Let people see me as I am,
judge me on my words.
Shun me, shame me,
even expose me,
laugh with or even at me
but do not steal my_____.

I feel uneasy about the reported changes to Roald Dahl’s books, made in order to align them with contemporary attitudes (I suspect they weren’t even in line with the attitudes of his day!) Whilst I appreciate the sentiment behind this, I’m unsettled by the idea of changing an author’s words because we don’t like them.
(21.02.23)

Poem 169 – I Collect People

Feb 20, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

I collect people.
Not in an album like
a stamp collector, or
macabre jars like some
demented serial killer,
but in my memories.

Childhood friends stand by
eccentric teachers that
inspire and shape my path.
Loved relatives are filed
with heroes of the stage
and teenage heartbreakers.

Congregation members,
that walked with us awhile,
together with neighbours
who passed our window daily,
their names undiscovered.
Did they know each other?

Time to time I take
them out and dust them down,
revisit, reminisce.
These familiar faces,
both intimate and distant,
make up my life’s matrix.
I am in reference to them,
embedded and defined.
There is no island life.

A conversation at church about personalities who have been part of our family over time prompted the phrase ‘we collect people’. This stuck in my head and eventually prompted this poem.
(20.02.23)

Poem 168 – The Week’s Weft & Warp

Feb 11, 2023Feb 11, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Weft
The Ayatollah screams, in ’89,
his cruel fatwa over Rushdi, judgement
upon his blasphemous work. In contrast,
proud fist raised in 90, Mandela stands
defiant, tasting freedom. His smile disarms.

Warp
Go back. In ’83 bold scoundrels snatch
Shergar from underneath our noses, boldly
driving their horsebox to his door. Go further.
In ’52, the King is dead. A princess
is lost in Kenya, long live our new found Queen.

This week winds back and forth, its tapestry
an intertwining web. Created by
its stitches, we’re not free but bound and shaped,
informed and influenced, held by its threads.
However, choice exists; we choose which strands
to trace and which to weave for those to come.

Inspired by the BBC’s ‘This Week in History’ earlier this week (8-14th February).
(11.02.23)

Poem 167 – The Futility of the Fenland Cyclist

Feb 7, 2023Feb 7, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

‘It’s just a short climb,’ they said,
‘A little rise, a quick kick.
It’s nothing that will trouble you.’
But they forgot I grew up in
The Fens; a horizontal line
Of land that’s paper thin, all sky.
To me it was Mount Everest.
I set off from my base camp with
Adventure in my heart, but soon
I needed oxygen and Sherpas.
The final straw? A lycra clad
Illusion, laughing as it passed…

I’m currently training to ride the London-Essex 100 in May for Parkinson’s UK. Encountering slopes, my legs reminded me of a fleeting encounter just outside Sidmouth when I was on my first major ride… (Ps. If you want to sponsor me you can do so here: https://events.parkinsons.org.uk/fundraisers/benquant)
(07.02.23)

Poem 166 – Embrace

Feb 2, 2023Feb 2, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

I circumnavigate you
Enfold, encapsulate you.
Not to subsume, consume,
Devour or dominate you,
But to be one with you.

Oh, to be one with you,
Align my life to you,
Try not to assume, presume, but
Embrace this life with you,
Breathing as one.

Peter Capaldi’s 12th Doctor said,
‘Never trust a hug. It’s just a way to hide your face.’
I disagree.
(02.02.23)

Poem 165 – At the Edge

Jan 31, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

The nip of winter tarries
But spring has tentatively
Emerged to test the waters
One toe at first, before
It casts aside its towel
And joyously commits to
An eruption of colour and life
One glorious bellyflop!

The days are beginning to stretch. Bulbs are putting out their feelers. The car didn’t need scraping this morning…
(31.01.23)

Poem 164 – Flights of Fantasy

Jan 28, 2023Jan 31, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

With flick of fanned out tail, the Kite flies deftly,
    With dancer’s grace, descends through applauding sky,
    Performs a pirouette, majestic dive,
Then swoops and thus commits audacious theft.
Through avian guile she artfully steals my breath
    And gripping firm, takes flight, and rises high.
    Leaving my standing ovation behind, she flies
Into the distance, fading. I’m bereft.
Sometimes I wish that I possessed her freedom.
    Perhaps I do! I have no wings but in
Their place imagination’s feathers thrust
    Me upwards seeking visions of what could be.
Their range is more than hers has ever been,
    Could dreaming meet this reaching wanderlust?

Red kites have recently established themselves in our neighbourhood. One regularly frequents the air above our garden. Watching it’s effortless flight inspired this sonnet, although it’s taken most of the week to knock it into some sort of shape.
(28.01.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Image: Tim Felce (Airwolfhound), CC BY-SA 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Poem 163 – Morning Migration

Jan 19, 2023Jan 19, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Somewhere a switch is flicked, a catch released.
Eager luminescent salmon shoot
nocturnal traps, migrate the lofty spray,
a duvet stretched, inviting pillow plump.
Chasing behind, our newborn day.

A glorious pink sunrise picked out the teased out clouds this morning. Could have captured it with my phone, instead used words.
(19.01.23)

Ode for the Day

An experiment in poetic doodling

Author: BenDQ