I made it to the 6th
with not even a hint
of you know what…
But then, before Storm Darragh
hit, George Michael tapped
my careless shoulder.
It isn’t fair! Even
storms these days come
with warning.
I didn’t stand a chance…
(05.12.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Leo Wieling on Unsplash
Slouched on the sofa
Watching programmes on the box
With my other half
It’s the weekend. A night to relax.
(29.11.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Michael DeMoya on Unsplash
SONGS can be sonic portals, dioramas,
OF youthful memories long forgotten,
A door through which, released, our senses tumble,
LOST landscapes wherein we dance with arms outstretched,
a WORLD of angst yet somehow hopeful.
I’ve been listening to The Cure a lot recently, especially their latest album, the terrific ‘Songs of a Lost World’. Despite Robert Smith’s obvious awareness of aging and mortality, and their classic gothic sound, I find so much of their music strangely uplifting. (And yes, that is me in the photo…)
(17.11.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Sophie’s magic trick
“Masquerading as a male”
Fools Magic Circle
9th December 1991, the Magic Circle finally allowed women to join their ranks, only to find that one already had! Sophie Lloyd, disguised as Raymond, had earned her place. With the decision of the Circle she revealed her true identity, and was promptly kicked out… Now, the Circle is trying to find her again, in order to invite her back.
(12.11.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Sergi Viladesau on Unsplash
I encountered a stormtrooper
standing at our food bank.
I wasn’t expecting that.
He stood expressionless as
they always seem to be.
Who knows what he was thinking.
Was he plucking up
the courage to ask for help?
It isn’t always easy.
Or was he on a fact
finding mission? A watching
brief to assess choices?
Perhaps he was simply lost.
Again, that’s not unusual,
but I’m not so sure.
I didn’t know what to
say and so I asked
if I could take a selfie.
I’d like to think he smiled
under his helmet. At least
he didn’t shoot me back.
It’s a long story…
(09.10.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Perhaps next time I head to town
I’ll sing spontaneous songs out loud,
Burst into a ballads on the bus,
Rap nursery rhymes whilst in the rain.
Rather than moan perhaps I’ll try
A love song waiting for the lift,
Or scream some skratt to skip through time,
Or hum a hymn in hopefulness.
To stop succumbing to cynicism
I shall just jump around to jazz,
And bounce my way through big band blues
And leap to looping Latin beats.
And then as night descends I’ll try,
Some mellow murmured soulful number,
A gospel grace before at last
A lullaby to light day’s leaving.
I had free tickets to see Joker: Folie à Deux, which recounts the lead character’s demise through song (incidentally, in contrast to most reviews, I thoroughly enjoyed it). This got me thinking.
(06.10.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Nadim Merrikh on Unsplash
Twice we tried to flee
Both times the darkness claimed us
We remain there still
Our gaming group met tonight and tried our hands at Escape the Dark Castle. Unfortunately we didn’t….
(17.09.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
The view across the lake,
from the crest of Cader Idris.
The eyes of my life’s love as
she glances in my direction.
Feeling B.B. King’s vibrato
and Gary Moore’s sustain.
The emotional release of
an encore’s delighted applause.
The rich aroma released
from freshly ground coffee beans.
The taste of blue cheese. It shouldn’t
work but somehow it does.
Snuggling up on the sofa
and finding another’s world.
Talking to a gathered crowd
and holding them in your hands.
Discovering flamingo
mouths are upside down
so they can eat with their heads
between their distant feet.
Black and white images
formed within the womb.
The sight of freshborn signets
their feathers still damp with shell.
I’ve never known your voice,
not heard you talk out loud,
and yet, it strikes me that,
you’ve never really stopped.
Someone mentioned to me the other day that they’d heard God speak, and this got me thinking. I’ve never had that privilege, and yet…
(16.09.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo NotFromUtrecht, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons
A wall of circles trace eternity.
In contrast, a wooden hat-stand speaks of home.
This is a strange yet familiar place whose walls
encompass everyone who dares to enter.
Somehow, in here, there’s room for all regardless
of where or when they come from, what their tribe –
it’s bigger on the inside than the out.
Nearby, a central pillar oscillates
in hopeful motion, gently rising and sinking.
We wait, prepared for imminent transportation.
At last lights dim, our childhood theme begins,
and years begin to peel… dee dum de dum,
dee dum de dum, dee dum de dum, ooh wee ooh….
Tonight I experienced the delight of attending the live reading/recording of Big Finish’s ‘The Stuff of Legend’ in celebration of their 25th anniversary. What a treat it was! If you’ve not heard a dalek doing a sound-check, you haven’t lived!
(15.09.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Do you remember the days when cowboys
wore colour coded hats?
It made life simple when the good guys wore white and the bad guys all wore black.
Back then you knew who to cheer for and
just who you were supposed to boo at,
so when Star Wars came out it messed with our heads,
despite dressing Darth Vader in black.
He was the baddie, so this made sense,
but what about his sidekicks,
All dressed in white from head to toe –
just what were we supposed to think?
And now there is Batman, a hero in black,
haunted by demons and grim,
and what about the Hulk, who’s green and fueled
by a rage that lies deep within.
The binary was burst, the black and white blended,
our heroes, their creators, reflect,
’cause inside we’re the same, you and I, and the rest,
a colourful, motive-mixed, mess.
At our weekly drop-in lunch at church today, I found myself reflecting on the dress code in old black and white westerns. This poem followed.
(10.09.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Bailey Alexander on Unsplash
Ode for the Day 
