I find
I find myself
I find myself feeding
I find myself feeding frogs
I find myself feeding frogs with my fingers
And I fear they fink my fingers are the food!
They’re not the brightest of creatures…
(14.09.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
I find
I find myself
I find myself feeding
I find myself feeding frogs
I find myself feeding frogs with my fingers
And I fear they fink my fingers are the food!
They’re not the brightest of creatures…
(14.09.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Unless I have miscounted,
(As I have before),
Today I reach one thousand
Poems, no less no more.
Occasionally profound,
And sometimes simply silly,
Some good whilst others flounder,
Some rhyme whilst others refuse to.
I really ought to write one of the profound or thoughtful ones tonight, but this is what came out tonight instead…
(11.09.36)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Cooper Hofmann on Unsplash
The calm before the storm.
I’m taking a deep breath,
Gathering my thoughts,
And feeding on my nerves,
Preparing to take the plunge,
The chance to turn has gone,
It’s time to build momentum
And take a running JUMP!
I made it to my assembly early this morning, and had a few minutes to scribble these few lines.
(10.09.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Richard King on Unsplash
It all began with a lack of clarity.
You see, I hastily wrote without thinking it out,
No doubt I’ll be working out the implications
For days, no years to come. What have I done!
It started when I clicked copy then paste,
No time to waste, but in my haste I didn’t
Think to read it with the eyes of others.
Oh bother, there is no button labelled ‘Undo’.
You see, someone had scrawled ‘I’m leaving you,
It’s true, I’m off to Kent and so I’ll say,
Goodbye before I go. Please pray for me.’
I fear that quickly one and one made three.
Soon floods of farewell cards began to drop
A crop of well-wishers knocking at the door
With gifts and tears (perhaps some others cheered…)
I can’t deny that I was deeply touched.
And then a leaving party was announced,
And now I fear I can’t back out and soon
The room will be filled with piles of boxes as
Someone has kindly gone and booked a van!
You may be wondering who was it that wrote
That note? I must be blunt it wasn’t me,
But frustratingly no one’s yet come clean and undone
what I’ve done with my transcription blunder!
A true story ( well, but really but could have been…)
(06.09.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Claudio Schwarz on Unsplash
One word at a time
A poem for every day
A habit is formed
Keeping the streak alive
(26.08.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
I will not be defeated
By a lack of meter,
Or abandon rhyme
For a lack of time,
And so this offering,
Although a little thin,
To keep the juices flowing
As now I must be going
That’s all folks…
(21.08.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
It’s hot.
So hot that I’ve started to melt.
I find myself dreaming of
a long refreshing drink,
hallucinating visions
of a pint; can you see it?
And so, upon returning
home, I find I am
inevitably pouring myself…
…onto the sofa and leaking
absolutely everywhere.
It’s hot, so very, very
hot.
It’s been a tad warm in the foodbank warehouse this week…
(14.08.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Timothy Dykes on Unsplash
Preparing to juggle cans
of ham and spam, and jam,
to deal with warehouse keys
and sort out packs of cheese,
to answer the telephone
and deal with people’s woes,
to manage volunteers
and listen to people’s fears,
drive the electric van
and do the best I can,
to keep the foodbank going
and keep the parcels flowing.
I’m taking over running the foodbank warehouse for a week, this week, and so here’s a hasty verse that’s really just for fun.
(09.08.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
No time for rhyme today
and worse, no verse, at play
No, just one stanza, hardly
an extravaganza!
Busy day at church and on the road.
(02.08.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
I’m trying to write a simple ballad,
A form of rhyming poem,
It uses lines with four accents,
Then three to move without relent,
Mix them together, let them ferment,
And the lines will keep on flowin’.
And now I’ve reached the second stanza,
It doesn’t seem so hard,
I’m certainly glad I gave it a go,
And tried it out, just never say no,
But now I fear I’ve reached my plateau,
I’ll never replace the Bard!
I’m reading Malcolm Guite’s terrific ‘Galahad and the Grail’ at the moment, which is written in ballad form. Rather than always alternating between 4 beats and 3 beats, he mixes it up, my favourite following the above rhyme and beat pattern. Thought I’d try it out, nothing serious this time but I may come back to it.
(30.05.26)