Poem 956 – At The List

Knights lift their lances and charge enlivened by
the fight for fame or chance of lady’s favour.
At the heft of hooves pounding so heavily,
the crowds start crying, eager to crown a champion.
Baying for blood, like hounds they bite and snarl
at one and will the other to win with ease,
but, fickle friends, they switch to favour those
they believe most likely to end up leaving king!

We visited Warwick Castle today and enjoyed the dramatic sights and sounds of their jousting knights. A quick poem at the end of a long hot day.
(29.07.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 955 – The Royalty

Art deco lines, once crisp, now stand invaded,
their borders crossed by roots and softened by
the wind that blows through blown out windows panes.
Inside the only queues are distant echoes,
first dates of yesteryear and giddy children
grasping parent’s hands and bags of sweets.
An organ plays before the ghostly reels
begin to turn and greyscale images
flicker upon the absent silver screen.
Somewhere a forgotten steward points to seats
as ancestors laugh and point and scream with joy
ignorant that their far-flung families walk by.
The shell is all we see; a failing
memory beneath a fading dome,
doors sealed and windows boarded in defiant hope.

Just down the road from where we’re staying is The Royalty, Harbone’s once resplendent art deco cinema, but now a shell despised by fire and time. Despite appearances, it somehow seems alive.
(28.07.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 942 – Did Will Play Football?

After a meeting of minds
it seems the word on the street
is we’ve got the beating of them.
But here I sit conflicted
as on the final night
we’re visiting The Globe.
Can footie displace the Bard?
Can I follow the game on my phone?
Or wear an earbud to listen?
I’m sure the answer is no,
on each and every score –
pun definitely intended…
I’m hoping that the title
is not a sorry omen
it’s Love’s Labour’s Lost.

England play Argentina tonight in the World Cup semi-final. I’ve just realised that if they win the final is clashes with our trip to The Globe… Now there’s a quandary!
(15.07.36)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Hulki Okan Tabak on Unsplash

Poem 887 – Sci-Fi Distractions

Trying to work, whilst creatures lurk
In Alien 3, is not so easy.
It’s not the horror, instead the bother
of working out, without a doubt,
the actors names, their claims to fame
some thirty years on from their fearful slaughters.

The son and I caught up with Alien 3 this evening (a few years late in my case!) What an amazing cast – although I had to age them 30 years to work out why they looked familiar.
(20.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Nat on Unsplash

Poem 885 – The Rollercoaster

It’s not the ride but the wait,
the mounting anticipation
that builds adrenaline,
the queue that snakes beneath
the rising ride. It twists
then plunges. You duck,
knowing you’re safe but
just in case. ‘What if?…’
you wonder, then try to thrust
the thought away. Some shriek,
excitedly, showing off
their fear, whilst others stand
in silence, trying to
contain it. And then the gates.
A moment’s bracing then
release, a screaming release,
a rattling, rolling, tumbling
release of laughter, joy,
so utterly alive!

From the smallest to the largest, today we’ve packed them in.
(18.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash

Poem 866 – Small Prophets

Were the minor prophets
The same as Mackenzie Crook’s,
And did they also conjure
Homunculae from books?
Did old Ezekiel
Work at B&Q?
Or was he simply shorter
Than folk like me and you?

Just emerged to find the brilliant Small Prophets on the box at the end of a full day. It won’t make sense if you haven’t seen it.
(29.04.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Ales Dusa on Unsplash

Poem 856 – Rocky!

Frank-N-Furter struts
Fetch sparkling hats and fishnets
Bring anticipa………

At the Dominion for the Rocky Horror Picture Show 50th anniversary celebrations – not my usual Sunday evening.
(19.04.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 834 – St. Paul Songs

Voices awaken London’s chilly streets,
A rousing swell of sound announcing life.
Their notes disperse upon the swirling wind
each one a seed of joy. They scatter through
the city stirring statues from their sleep.
Their vigil ceased they stretch and smile with us.

It was wonderful to watch our daughter’s choir, Bristol Show Choir, performing outside St. Paul’s today.
(28.03.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 833 – In Contrast

Apprentices flogging rubbish
Squeezing out every penny
Hype and exaggeration

Evening celebrations
Thanking foodbank leaders
For humbly serving for free

Watching TV after saying thank you to our two magnificent foodbank leaders who have given everything for fifteen years. What a contrast.
(27.03.26)

© Ben Quant 2026