Tiles shuffled and randomly selected
Balanced precariously, curved to conceal
A cheer reveals double-six located
Centrally placed, the game begins
Turn by turn our counters are chosen
Tension ratchets as silence descends
Only grunts of relief or tapping the table
Nowhere to go, delaying the end
Time ticking down
Furiously counting
Plans played out
Strategies discounted
Players passed by
Blows traded
Tiles running out
Sudden flurry
Hands crashing
Dawning realisation
I’ve lost and they’ve won!
Tuesday lunchtimes our church holds the ‘Drop-In’, inviting folk to come and share a light lunch and company. Once the meal is over the dominoes come out and the banter is replaced by serious competition…
(16.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Author: BenDQ
Poem 35 – Interval
Half past four
Night lowers its curtains
These dark navy drapes
Announce the act’s end
Accompanied by birdsong
Once enveloped
Orchestra and players
Can rest unseen
As they do
We too draw our curtains
Withdrawing
Affords the chance to stretch
Relax body and mind
Assimilate experiences
Be renewed
The alarm rings
Shrilly declaring interval’s end
Bleary we reclaim our seats
And wait for dawn’s revelation
Of today’s set
I love these late autumnal days when night comes so early, allowing us to close the curtains and shut out the world. Not so keen on it being dark when I rise however…
(14.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Poem 34 – Autumn
Living chlorophyll
Bleeds, decaying gold riches
Dies in crunchy piles
It’s that time of year when trees out on their seasonal display
(13.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Poem 33 – Our Voyage
Our childhood heroes bid farewell,
departing to journey alone
Leaving us grasping in denial
snapshots of the view
These faded polaroid stills of seventies
sequins, flares and hair
Agnetha and Frida back to back,
Benny and Björn smiling on
Perfect harmonies as the crowd dance
to their Swedish lilt
From Waterloo to bittersweet
when all is said and done
Were we naively hoping the picture
would pick up where they left
Or did we believe them to be like us
as we deceive ourselves
Frozen in time when in truth all age
and those glamorous skinsuits
Might no longer look so good on
bodies that have travelled the years
Is the discovery anticlimactic that
they’re not Peter Pan
And whilst the voices clearly belong
something has definitely changed
But I for one will cheer as they
look back upon their voyage
Because the tide of time likewise
nibbles my being’s shore
I do not want to live regretting
its tender gradual erosion
But satisfied survey each step and
content embrace the view
Feeling a little wistful today having just listened to the new ABBA album, aware of both time passing and the richness that its passing can bring.
(12.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Photo By Anders Hanser – http://www.mynewsdesk.com/se/abba-the-museum/images/abba-the-museum-the-choir-250208, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=44782676
Poem 32 – Opportunities Lost
I wish I’d asked but youth does not
Appreciate the finite opportunity possessed
By the time I realised time’s scarcity
Those doors were shut
What was it like as a youth yourself
Once island locked to bid goodbye
Leave familiar shores, be evicted abruptly
Those doors were shut
Sail to alien lands with brothers unknown
Fight famine, plague, war and face death
Grim conflict without, peace lost within
Those doors were shut
Finally coming home to family changed
Moved on in life without your presence
Faces altered but you’re the stranger
Those doors were shut
How could you cope with enduring such sorrow
Those vivid scenes secretly stashed away
A simple return to normality that couldn’t be
Those doors were shut
Armistice Day (11.11.21)
Edit: I reworked this overnight, not being completely happy with it before, especially the final stanza.
© Ben Quant 2021
Armistice Day (11.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Poem 31 – Rain Spoils Play
Photographic filter
Washing our colours
Not dressed for success
But draining vitality
Fine mist descends
Depressing the day
The swoosh of the surf
Succeeds every car
Not Bondai beach
But oil residue
Running in gutters
Raised by rubber
Persistent it penetrates
Seeping with ease
Damping through clothing
Collecting between shoulders
Coldness that shivers
Wrinkles our toes
Last day in self-isolation and looking forward to being released. Sat in my office, however, the view isn’t appealing with the fine drizzle looking set for the day. Hope it clears by tomorrow.
(10.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Poem 30 – Pavement Picasso
On the Millennium Bridge
Find the Pavement Picasso
Unlike his namesake
He doesn’t stand tall
In the pantheon of painters
But lies
Prone on the pavement
Stretched out amongst
Passers-by and litter
Blown by gritty city breeze
And exhaust pipes
Prostrate he takes
Flavour drained gum
Carelessly spat
Stuck in the cracks and
With care rarely afforded
To nonbiodegradable detritus
Achieves metamorphosis
Makeover not with
Eye shadow and lippy
But acrylic and lacquer
Turning trash
Into mini-masterpieces
A colourful protest
And through conversation
Community adhesion
One of my favourite haunts is The Globe. To get there we often walk across central London, approaching via the Millenium Bridge. If you’ve got your eyes open, you may spot as you cross, discarded chewing gum which has been painted by the amazing Ben Wilson, the ‘Pavement Picasso’ (see examples on his website: https://benwilsonchewinggumman.com/)
(09.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Poem 29 – I Think?
Where do my thoughts come from
Are they simply distillation
Of experiences lived and situations seen
A concept torn from conversation shared
Meme like infection spread
Is it true that there is nothing new under the sun
Were they never really mine
Merely a compilation of others’
Mashed, macerated and recompiled
Should I think therefore I am
(As someone once thought!)
Instead read
They think therefore I become
Uniqueness simply a statistical recombination
A regurgitation of what has been before
Is it not possible that in my being
Some organic Hadron Collider
Crashes borrowed insights
And from the impact sparks
Something new
Something me
Sitting down to write today having read a few poems online written by others and mulling over what to write, it struck me how hard it is to write something truly original. The words of the Teacher in Ecclesiastes came to mind:
What has been will be again,
Eccles. 1:9
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun.’
Is it true that we have nothing original to offer?
(08.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Poem 28 – The Library
A treasure trove full and bounteous
A time machine to find what’s been
A brewery kettle of faith beginning
A peek around future’s bend
A training ground forming bravery
A school in which to fire up brains
A laboratory of facts all bubbling
A dream one day freedom begins
I love libraries. They’ve always been one of my favourite places. Along with bookshops….
(07.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Poem 27 – Silence
It is not empty, so
Those in matured relationships
Need not feel obliged to
Fill every moment
With words
They can simply be
Not threatened by silence
Nor disturbed by
What is left
Unspoken
Content to be vulnerable
Before the other’s thoughts
Trust fills the gaps
And plasters over
The pauses
I’ve been married for 27 years. This week in isolation has underlined the simple yet profound pleasure of simply being in the same room together. Thank you K. As a Christian, this pleasure and these verses point towards the human-divine relationship too.
(06.11.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Ode for the Day 