Entertainment

Poem 317 – Yesterday’s Mystery Visitor

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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

Poem 314 – A Life in Song

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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

Poem 294 – I’ve Never Known Your Voice

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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

Poem 293 – Bigger on the Inside

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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

Poem 288 – Colour Coded

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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

Poem 274 – What’s On The Box?

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This programme may contain…
…violence
…scenes of a sexual nature
…strong language from the start
…flashing lights, predictable plots, and wobbly sets
…nuts
…a former contestant from a singing competition
…actors you’ve seen in something else but you can’t remember what
…someone who appeared in Casualty once
…people whose diction is difficult to follow
…advert breaks at inappropriate moments
…a cliffhanger that makes you scream in frustration
…a moment that makes you shout, ‘Yes!’ in celebration
…a twist that you’ll share in the office tomorrow
…characters that become an inspiration
…a theme tune you’ll be singing for weeks
…revelations that will change a nation
…an institution the country will gather around
…tomorrow’s nostalgia today

Inspired by the warning at the beginnings of TV dramas and our personal Gogglebox conversation.
(27.08.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Pawel Kadysz on Unsplash

Poem 253 – Too Many Games?

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I’ve games all about collecting birds
and games about surviving in caves
I’ve games that are about belonging to the herd
and games about driving trains

I’ve games that are set in outer-space
and games in a sprawling city,
games about the future of our race,
and games about its history

I’ve games that feature mechanical robots
games about King Arthur
games about goats that are racing to the top
and games that are full of laughter

I’ve games about architects, assassins, kings,
and even bishops too,
and Romans, Scots, Merlin fighting
and Picts all daubed in blue

Boardgames, boardgames everywhere
and not one have I won.
What else can I do for my breakthrough
but buy another one!

I have invested in many boardgames over the years and keep getting beaten. This doesn’t seem to quell my obsession though.
(06.08.24)

© Ben Quant 2024

Poem 238 – This Sea of Voices

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Their conductor enters, knowingly grins,
then turns and lifts his hands. They rise
a swelling wave, bass to soprano.
This tide is made of many voices
eddies, waves and tributaries
that make a single sonic surge.
Seal-like, a young woman sits
beached upon a chair, her smile
bubbles forth contagiously;
laboured on the land, she finds
her freedom once submerged.
A moustache adorning tenor of
germanic tendencies (surely one
of Einstein’s heirs!) leans on a stick
supported by an office worker
(grey, bespectacled), who as the waters
break across the stage becomes
reborn, his face quickened, alive.
Straight gentleman (stiff upper lip,
bow-tied and greying, manicured beard),
sings by an unexpected companion;
a retired rocker reliving Lennon
(round specs, white hair and rhythmic pose).
You sense he isn’t really here
but there, a 60’s Peter Pan
lost in the coastal pools of youth.
A frail bewildered ghost, unsure,
is led, then settles in the song,
her anchor amidst the fog of age.
Another woman stands serene,
a silver moon reflected in the
ripples, singing a sirens song.
Unified, this sea of voices
crashes upon our sands as one
then dissipates to our shingle’s applause
left ringing in response.

Today’s poem was inspired by a show I recently attended featuring a variety of choirs. I was struck by how the disparate collection of characters they were formed from could make such a rousing, living sound.
(06.04.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Jelena Koncar on Unsplash