Just for fun

Poem 642 – Belief

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I hear they’re calling it Slottage Time,
That moment in the dying breath,
When time stands still and waits and waits,
Until the ball flies in the net.

Perhaps we’re riding on a wave
Of luck that surely must run out,
But until then we wait and wait,
And wait for it without a doubt.

It might be nice for once to win
Before the extra time is shown
Not needing to wait on and on
Until the final kick flies home.

‘But where’s the fun in that?’ I say
There’s nothing like the adrenaline rush
From tension building up and up
Exploding with the final touch.

For the fifth time in fife games, Liverpool somehow managed to win tonight in the final moments of the match. It’s now no longer a surprise but expected.
(17.09.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Chris Knight on Unsplash

Poem 620 – Flat Pack Politics

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A week or two has passed
and all is as we left it.
The TV hasn’t fallen,
or damp stains reappeared,
or furniture collapsed.
My DIY has lasted
longer than Liz Truss.
I can announce I have
a strong and stable cabinet!

Much to my relief, returning after Greenbelt, the DIY is as I left it.
(26.08.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 612 – Just in Time

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Distracted by the day’s events,
appointments, admin, strategic planning,
I almost forgot that I was meant
to write a verse in my fair hand,
of poetry before the day was out –
it didn’t need to be that grand.
My plan? To write each day throughout
the year, to capture thoughts and dreams,
moments of faith and times of doubt.

A busy day today, I almost forgot…
(18.08.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Murray Campbell on Unsplash

Poem 609 – Wondering about the wisdom of an act of DIY

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I’ve got some glass
And a tub of putty
But will replacing the pane
Drive me nutty?

Clear out the old
What can go wrong?
Pop in the new
Stick it nice and strong.

It’s been a while
Since I did it last
Any skills I had
Are lost to the past…

Scope for disaster?
Without a doubt.
Please join me praying
It won’t fall out!

A quick silly poem before tomorrow’s DIY task at church.
(15.08.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Call Me Fred on Unsplash

Poem 605 – The Great Escape

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We never saw the plotting and scheming,
Committees meeting under our noses.
Did they excavate under a vault,
To dig deep tunnels under the floor?
Or build a glider to fly from the table,
To run with freshly forged false papers?
Encouraged by the open door
In a bid for freedom, the cricket jumped
Out of the box, across the floor,
Across the carpet, its great escape.
But alas, its accent gave it away,
And rather than a McQueen moment,
An iconic final do or die,
I trapped it under a plastic cup…

Our son keeps crickets to feed his frogs and newts. Occasionally we spot them crossing the floor or climbing the wall…
(11.08.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 572 – Too Hot!

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More poems on le Tour you say?
It may have to wait another day.
It’s too hot you see, too hot for me,
I don’t know how they do it!
Relentless peddling in the heat
Remorselessly chasing as they compete
For the yellow jersey, at the end of the journey,
As only one can don it!

Yesterday’s poem provoked the comment that there should be more poems on the Tour de France. A silly response at the end of a hot day.
(10.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Christian Chrome on Unsplash