At the play tonight
Gandalf sat down behind me
And magic happened
Went to see the fantastic Nicola Walker tonight in The Unbelievers. Ian McKellen was also in the audience.
(22.11.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Arts & Literature
Poem 705 – A Deep Dive Into Numbers
I’m losing all my numbers.
They’re falling off the page
and terminally descending,
cascading down the screen.
Perhaps it’s time to cross
them out, ignore them all
and do without? Or should
I take a dive myself
into the title depths
to number them afresh?
I’m not so sure I’m ready
to commit today,
and so I’m standing at
the edge and dipping in
my toe. Tomorrow? Perhaps…
Having filled in the gap previously identified, I’ve realised the numbers still don’t add up. It turns out there are still another 33 numbers missing or thereabouts, scattered amongst my poem titles. If only there was a way to quickly correct them all…
(19.11.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by lionel mermoz on Unsplash
Poem 699 – Non-Poetry Day
Today doesn’t feel like a poetry day,
It feels disjointed, somehow dredged
With all creativity drained away.
Where is the meter in doing admin?
The rhyme in writing rapid emails?
The tempo in ticking off the tasks?
Somewhere along the way the stanzas
Blurred into an endless verse,
A universe of drizzly grey.
It’s not been bad, in fact it’s been
Productive, but efficiency
Has never inspired great poetry.
It’s been another day of ploughing through the tasks (although there have been some meaningful human encounters on the way).
(13.11.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Wesley Tingey on Unsplash
Poem 683 – It Is Finished
The deed is done,
the audience won, I hope,
the words delivered
without a stumble,
(well just a little one
when I became distracted).
And now I’ll sleep with thoughts
of friends and family in Him.
It wasn’t good enough,
it never is, and nor am I,
but He is all we need.
For the second year running I ended up stepping into the gap when a speaker couldn’t make it to our annual Conference. A late night scrawling turned into a poetry gig with a message – a first public ‘reading’ of my poetry.
(28.10.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Poem 678 – The Final Word?
Tonight we finished Mark,
A tale of breathless action,
Inspired non-violent protest and
Vivid imagination.
That reaches across our barriers,
Draws in outcast and lost,
Embraces the rejected,
Values the poor and last.
The story that is Jesus,
The man from Galilee
Who stood against the Temple,
The powers and hypocrisy.
Was crowned upon a cross,
This sentence makes no sense,
Thus overturned the tables
And died a traitor’s death.
That builds to its crescendo,
Its resurrection scene,
And then abruptly ends.
I’ve been running a group exploring Mark’s Gospel, made up of church goers and non-church goers. It’s been a really intriguing and insightful journey.
(23.10.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Greg Rosenke on Unsplash
Poem 676 – The Thirty Nine (Poetic) Steps
There are thirty-nine steps
From four hundred and ten to fifty,
For each and every one,
A poem is currently missing
A momentary loss of focus,
Or limited concentration?
A lack of counting skills
And failed administration?
Perhaps it’s something wilder,
A case of espionage?
A chase across the country
From spies in camouflage?
No, I finally must come clean,
So here is my confession,
I’ve come to the conclusion
That they were never written.
And so I’m stepping backwards
And filling in the gaps,
That I’ve apparently caused
By this annoying lapse!
I’ve just made the annoying discovery that some of my poems are missing… or in truth, I failed in my numbering and can’t be bothered to go back and correct them all!
(21.10.25)
Poem 664 – The Tree of Life
Opening your cover, I fall
into your leaves, cavort
within your canopy.
Peering from high pages
I penetrate horizons,
unveiling fresh perspectives.
I gasp for breath, my mouth
gapes as I drink them in.
I feel my glossary grin.
Amongst your paragraphs,
I find so many marvels
I’m made drunk and giddy.
In time, I turn to find
your spine, your trunk, that holds
these fruitful words together.
Downwards, I trace its bark,
descend its lines, to delve
the deep, dark earth’s embrace.
Following your fingers,
I find forgotten facts
indexed amongst fine roots.
Young sentences disperse,
spinning sycamore wings.
My entry for the poetry competition held by Hertfordshire Libraries this year to celebrate their 100 anniversary. The competition required submissions that were 100 words long.
(09.10.25)
Poem 657 -Blessed are the Poets
Blessed are the poets, those
Committed to verse not violence.
Blessed are the sonnet seekers,
The writers of limericks not slander.
Blessed are the hawkers of haikus
Over the dealers in harassment.
Blessed are the simile speakers,
The makers of metaphor not meanness.
Blessed are the rhymers, rhythm
Keepers, word smiths, dreamers, rappers,
Revealers of a world unseen.
Blessed are the poets.
Written on National Poetry Day, on a day of war in Gaza and Ukraine and an attack on a synagogue in Manchester, whilst the far right rises, and power seeking populists posture. Longing for a better world.
(02.10.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Trust “Tru” Katsande on Unsplash
Poem 637 – Today’s Poem
Interviews and in-laws
No time to type today
But perceiving poetry in
All its alliteration
A busy day with no time for more than a quick scribble.
(12.09.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Álvaro Serrano on Unsplash
Poems 629 – Action Hero Gospel
Opening the cover marks the start
Of an adventure into the unknown.
Who knows what waits between its sheets?
Entire countries lie within.
Like contour lines the black and white
Align to mark its ups and downs.
The turns and bends we find therein,
Those tricky twists, guide and surprise us.
The pace leaves us breathless in wonder
We struggle to keep up with the action.
Turning the page, we find that Christ
Has roared on to the next horizon.
We started a series of evenings tonight exploring Mark’s Gospel with a group of church-goers and non-church-goers. A great conversation with valuable insights from everyone.
(04.09.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Ales Krivec on Unsplash
Ode for the Day 