Folklore & Fantasy

Poem 905 – The Ballad of The Wake (pt2)

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

Amongst his childhood friends and peers
Young Hereward caused offence,
Both tough in work and rough in play,
He grew in boldness day by day,
Determined to win in every way,
Succeeding at others’ expense.

But through this strife he grew in strength
In arm and leg and chest,
With speed, agility, and thought,
In nimbleness he was never caught,
Overcoming all he fought,
Proving he was the best.

In stature, sturdy and most stout
And handsome in his features
With striking eyes and long blond hair
He strode the land without a care
A burly man built like a bear
Most striking of God’s creatures

A look back at Hereward’s youth
(07.06.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
John Cassell, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Poem 904 – The Ballad of The Wake (pt1)

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

Here is the tale of Hereward,
The one they call The Wake,
The warrior from the deepest Fen,
Who gathered around him mighty men,
To keep at bay that William,
For precious England’s sake.

A hell-raiser from Lancashire,
He fought against his father,
And wore him down with arguments
And a rebellious streak that wouldn’t relent.
So long this feud was allowed to ferment
That his Father snapped, his clothes he rent,
And with the blessings of good King Ed,
Banished his son to the continent
To rediscover honour.

And so he stormed away in anger
As heat burned in his head,
No kind words to his kin addressed,
No sin he thought should he confess,
He left them in their sore distress
As onwards he did tread.

Inspired by Malcolm Guite’s ‘Galahad and the Grail’, I thought I’d try a similar ‘ballad’ approach to tell the story of Hereward the Wake. This one’s going to take more than a day to write, and so I’m going to post a bit each day as they’re drafted and see where they take me. To be continued…
(06.06.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
John Cassell, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Poem 877 – A Chilling Mystery

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

The lure of mystery,
of hidden secrets layered,
deep beneath the surface.
The possibility of
threat and treasure leading
to wisdom’s epiphany.
Of gripping pulp adventures
epic expeditions,
and eldritch beasts to better.
But which do I get to face?
To pit my strength against
and struggle to resolve?
The puzzle of why there’s never
room within the freezer
no matter what’s removed…

A truth that applies to all forms of storage…
(10.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Ben McCloskey on Unsplash

Poem 869 – The Jackdaw

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

Stationary upon its scaffolding pole,
The cowled jackdaw keeps its eery stare,
An ancient watch atop a modern perch.

Its mate descends to claim a cold partner;
A twitch of midnight feathers and it too
Stands still, two beaks in frozen parallel.

I turn to look with them, wondering what
They watch so motionless. I can not tell;
What plane do these four focused eyes perceive?

I shudder sensing that they see elsewhere,
Penetrating flesh and blood and bones
Perceiving naked souls hiding within.

The house behind ours is currently having an extension built and the local jackdaws have abandoned our trees for the tops of its scaffolding poles.
(02.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Daniil Komov on Unsplash

Poem 868 – Albion’s Soul

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

May Day, prepare for morris dancers,
bearded men and women (beardless)
armed with tankards, sticks and hankies,
legs adorned with chiming bells.

Here comes the Fool, their ball spinning
around their head before they strike
a member of the public un-
awares. Result? A raucous riot.

And then the Squire, the headman of
this rustic troop, who seeks to steer
them through their ancient dance that streams
throughout Old England’s leafy years.

It is no Riverdance or gold
Bolero, there’s no Nureyev
nor Sleep in sight, it’s out of date,
a clumsy, awkward, fading light.

Yet in the laughter lies an anchor,
in ritual, hazel arms that reach
to hazy days of yesteryear
and Albion’s soul and beating heart.

Our country is full of strange traditions that somehow linger on despite changing culture and lives. Their charm lies, perhaps, in a sense that they tie us to something that our modern lives have lost.
(01.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 866 – Small Prophets

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

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 776 – Black Feather

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

Flapping up high in the sycamore leaves,
Black Feather perches in the breeze.
An eye on the weather, an eye on the floor,
Black Feather watches with a wink and a caw.
A thought for the lonely who stand just as he,
a thought for the brook, for the hedge and the tree.
A thought for the orphan, a thought for the sick,
a thought for the sad as he gathered up twigs.
Black as the as darkest cave, black as the sea,
black as the sin that stains you and me.
He sees it all from his post in the sky,
Black Feather cries as he wonders why.

Just watched the first episode of Mackenzie Crook’s Worzel Gummidge, and found myself trying to write a poem that evoked an English folk saying about crows.
(29.01.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Semyon Borisov on Unsplash

Poem 769 – Round Table Quandaries

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

The knights are gathered
With swords unsheathed
A castle divided
Round table split

Plans have been hatched
The end comes soon
Destruction draws near
Its seeds have been sown

The Traitor and the Faithful
Are sat in their seats
Mordred and Arthur
But which is which…

Watching the penultimate episode of Traitors with no idea how it’s going to open out…
(22.01.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Pascal Bernardon on Unsplash

Poem 766 – Once Upon a Time

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

One day long ago, (Afrikaans)
Or so the story starts,
When tigers used to smoke, (Korean)
And serpents lies impart, (Gen. 3)

There was and there was not, (Arabic)
A river of mighty torrents,
Beyond seven mountains,
And beyond seven forests, (Polish)

In that corner of the world,
Where everybody had a nose, (Catalan)
In a Galaxy far away,
A long, long time ago, (Star Wars)

Where the water was being strewn
And the sand was being poured, (Slovak)
A knight once won his spurs (song by Jan Struther)
And stories were adored.

Watching a round on Countdown last night, my attention was caught by phrases other countries use for ‘once upon a time’.
(19.01.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Andreas Weilguny on Unsplash