If you could choose a super power what would you choose?
Would it be flight so you could soar above the clouds?
Unrivalled strength perhaps or maybe turn
Invisible for mischief, fun and games?
Alternatively opt for freezing breath
And make our Christmas dreams come true with snow
Or twist and turn with bendability
That stretchy flexi human miracle!
And yet it seems to me that none of these
Can solve the greatest problem that we face
In vast metropolis or village small
Of how to lift not weights but loneliness
Not seeing through with piercing x-ray eyes
But looking into souls with loving grace
Watched the first episode of Superman and Lois on BBC iPlayer today…
(10.12.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Author: BenDQ
Poem 54 – Treasure Trove
The sleep filled night’s reset allows this day
To offer bounteous riches graciously
Announced by dawn’s gold highlights on
My lover’s waking face laid next to mine
A friend then calls and asks me how I am
His care uplifting, lightening my load
Shared precious memories fluttering into view
Whilst I sip on my morning cup of tea
My diary open, it reveals unborn
Appointments all arrayed awaiting birth
These sparkling stones upon the jeweller’s shelf
Inviting me to reach and put them on
My trove today seems full and overflows
Its wealth the envy of all chancellors
Is it like this each day, I wonder, but
In haste I’m blind and unappreciative?
A series of early incidents caused me to ‘count my blessings’ this morning.
(09.12.21)
(Edited to improve the rhythm)
© Ben Quant 2021
Poem 53 – The Word on the Street (Pt.2)
The word on the street is a miracle
Powerful to transform and inform us
But despite this remarkable talent
It’s imprecise and prone to accident,
Misinterpretation and confusion
That is why when God communicated
It wasn’t through email, text or post but
Gift wrapped in human form, relatable
His Son became flesh and dwelt among us
Born in a manger, the Word on the street
Words are wonderful things. When you think what they are, just abstract sounds or marks on the page, it’s astonishing that they work at all, but they do and in stunning and moving ways. But they’re not perfect, we’ve all experienced miscommunication when we thought what we said made sense and was clear… Perhaps that’s one of the reasons for Christmas.
(07.12.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Poem 52 – Word on the Street
The word on the street is a miracle
So common it goes unnoticed, hidden
In plain sight, plain text, undercover
It’s underrated, abused but profound
This simple tool is anything but, requiring
Magical transformation to turn thoughts
Into sounds, into squiggles, on the page
On the wall, on the screen and then in reverse
From squiggle, to sound, to brain, with meaning
Transferred and transposed from one to another
So recipient and creator can
Comprehend the same meaning, sharing thought
This poem arose whilst printing out my thesis in preparation for my viva later this month. The process of seeing the words on the screen becoming words on printed paper, set of a train of thought. There may well be a partner piece tomorrow, as the thought didn’t stop there.
(06.12.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Poem 51 – Flux
We like to think that time is constant
The regular tock of a ticking clock
But in night’s depth that rhythm is
Vandalised
Jarred
Disrupted in strange discomforting ways that stretch the hours until you fear they must have
Snapped
Whilst dark
It’s light enough to see the time
Its face shines from the bedside table
As laying I wrestle with surreal
Fractured thoughts that flit and tussle
Uncomfortable limbs that ache and toss
And tasks for urgent morning attention
Yet unlike mine it does not age
But gazes fixed upon my weary
Brain that cannot comprehend
Its strange nocturnal ways
Not the best night’s sleep last night and no real idea why. Watching Doctor Who’s Flux finale got me thinking about the nature of time and brought last night to mind.
(05.12.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Poem 50 – Chaos Theory
The rivulets flow gently down the window
Pane, where they mix and combine randomly
Forming patterns that will not be seen again.
Each stream a unique moment in time that
Once gone is lost and replaced by something
Else, new and similar but changed in strength
And form, each flow departing further than
The one that came before. Eventually
Perhaps the permutations will complete
And finally begin again, but if
They do the order will not match
Such, is this world’s complexity.
I opened the curtains this morning to the sight of rain running down our windows, reminding me of the famous scene in Jurassic Park where Jeff Goldblum’s character explains chaos theory by dripping water on his companions hand.
(03.12.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Poem 49 – Seeking Superpowers!
Remember how it took a spider’s bite
To transform Peter Parker into that
Amazing spinning, swinging superhero?
I wonder what that makes me as I’ve had
Not one nor two but three sharp needle bites
And antibodies flood throughout my veins!
Alas it seems I haven’t been transformed
There is no lycra suit in my wardrobe
Today my only powers are aching limbs
Yesterday I had my Covid booster. Although I’m glad to have had it done, and as a former scientist would encourage everyone to do so, it’s left me feeling a little grim today. A small price.
(02.12.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Poem 48 – An Omicron Christmas
Uncertainty brings bitterness and breeds
This mental hesitation, leading us
To hover over plans and pause before
We press the button and maybe withdraw
Brand new unknowns confuse and cause unease
When experts disagree in their response
Are parties on or off this Christmas season
To hold or not to hold that is the question
Listening to the news tonight various experts were asked if Christmas gatherings should be cancelled. There was not agreement…
(30.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Poem 47 – A Winter Crime
Clear skies allowed a freezing night’s trespass,
A trail of frosty tracks hard evidence.
The dawn’s spotlight reveals its icy prints,
Deep etched forensics cross our car’s windscreen.
So armed with scraper in my gloved numb hand,
I set to gustily restore the scene,
And clear the way to safely drive, whilst not
Breathing, in case the mist offends my view.
Storm Arwen has departed leaving in its wake dropped temperatures, adding a extra step before my wife’s morning commute.
(29.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Poem 46 – Advent One
And so the Advent season starts once more
The annual wait for Jesus Christ our hope
To come in human form, the Word made flesh
Mysterious, incarnate, God with us
This year our yearning seems more keenly felt
A weary longing seeking something more
After two years of such disrupted life
Lived greyscale not in technicolour bright
With generations past and yet to come
We cry with one voice come Lord Jesus come
Today we lit the first candle in our Advent wreath and began our seasonal wait for the coming of Jesus. Like yesterday’s poem, this is an experiment with iambic pentameter, not my natural voice, but something I’d like to work on.
(28.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Ode for the Day 