Just for fun

Poem 605 – The Great Escape

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

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!

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

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

Poem 553 – Driving in the Sun

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Driving home today,
my brain has turned to mush,
I’ll be hard pushed to say
anything that makes sense.

The Sun did not relent,
remaining loud, despite
the cloud, that meant it was
not quite as hot as thought.

I’m writing as I ought,
but nothing much profound
is found, within my head,
for me to say today.

And so I think I’ll stop
and sleep the night away.

It wasn’t as hot as we thought it might be today, but driving home from visiting family frazzled me somewhat nevertheless.
(21.06.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Rajiv Bajaj on Unsplash

Poem 515 – High Tide at Toddlers

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

Just place her down and instantly
her body wound, a rubber band,
until the tension broke and poured
like crashing waves upon the sand.

What stamina she had for one
so young! This tidal flood could last
for hours until she was picked up
and then and only then would pass.

It didn’t matter if you sat
beside her or played face to face,
you may as well have left the room, or
simply vanished without a trace.

No, as soon as nappy-wrapped
behind made contact with the floor,
this lovely child, delightful girl
transformed, convulsing with a roar.

Her eyes would bulge and stomach clench,
and face turn many shades of puce,
her knuckles turn to pearls of white
and then tsunamis would be loosed.

All other souls would scatter fast
to seek her tired and desperate mother,
and if they couldn’t find her fast
dive under tables seeking cover.

A year has passed, you’d never guess
this happy child was such a pain.
Beware the day she has a child
and mighty tantrums rage again!

At toddlers I’ve been befriended by a girl who not so long ago was played by insecurity. To see the change in her is wonderful. I wonder if she’ll ever realise what she put her childminders through.
(14.05.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Zahra Amiri on Unsplash