Just for fun

Poem 972 – It’s Hot

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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

Poem 967 – Look Out, I’m Coming!

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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

Poem 897 – A Beginner’s Ballad

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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)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Taha on Unsplash

Poem 877 – A Chilling Mystery

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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 873 – Plastic Surgery

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‘Sit still’ she said and went behind
me to investigate. A sharp
intake of breath. ‘This is not good,’
she uttered, ‘but do not be alarmed.’

A look of utter concentration.
She raised some pliers to my neck
and clenched her tongue between her teeth,
and started to repair defects.

The room went silent and all zoomed in
upon that point of crisis where
she worked. A range of focused grunts
accompanied her efforts. Care-

fully she reached for varied tools,
a saw, a wrench, hammer and drill
sometimes even two at once
and worked with dreadful haste until

exclaiming, ‘It is fixed!’ Stepping
back to view her handiwork
she placed her plastic tools aside
and called her Mum to come and look.

Mum just smiled and winked at me,
‘Her dad fancies himself as a bit
of a handyman,’ she laughed until…
she swung a wrench and hit her knee!

Toddler group today and the toy tools were out. Towards the end I became the source of quite an operation.
(06.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by benjamin lehman on Unsplash

Poem 866 – Small Prophets

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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