[ x ] Today’s
[ x ] To-Do list
[ x ] Is nearly
[ x ] Done
[ x ] Just one
[ x ] More job
[ x ] To do
[ ] My poem
I’m going on holiday soon, can’t wait! The catch is this means a longer to-do list this week…
(07.08.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Just for fun
Poem 253 – Too Many Games?
I’ve games all about collecting birds
and games about surviving in caves
I’ve games that are about belonging to the herd
and games about driving trains
I’ve games that are set in outer-space
and games in a sprawling city,
games about the future of our race,
and games about its history
I’ve games that feature mechanical robots
games about King Arthur
games about goats that are racing to the top
and games that are full of laughter
I’ve games about architects, assassins, kings,
and even bishops too,
and Romans, Scots, Merlin fighting
and Picts all daubed in blue
Boardgames, boardgames everywhere
and not one have I won.
What else can I do for my breakthrough
but buy another one!
I have invested in many boardgames over the years and keep getting beaten. This doesn’t seem to quell my obsession though.
(06.08.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Poem 235 – Reboot
I tried another way
But found it didn’t stick
So starting from today
I have abandoned it.
I must regain the habit
Of writing every day
Because life becomes drab if
All work, no rest or play
I’ve changed the way I’ve been working recently, embracing the wonder of Obsidian md to organise and link together my work and ideas. I thought it would be great to write my poems there as well, but somehow this simply led to me stopping writing. I’ve now reverted to scribbling them in Google Keep, which makes it easier to write in odd moments and on my phone.
(09.03.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by John M. Smit on Unsplash
Poem 234 – A Social Network Poet
If I were to post poems on Facebook would
that make me a Meta-physical poet?
If, however, I put them on Insta’
do I purvey convenient rhythm?
And don’t forget poor Twitter X
a place for adult-rated verse.
But truth be told as time is tight
and looking over my lines tonight
the persistent rhythm of the beating clock
perhaps my perfect home’s TicTok
In a recent talk I mentioned the metaphysical poet John Dunne. It was pointed out that perhaps I’m one too because I post poems on Facebook; it took me a day before the penny/pun dropped and I laughed aloud to myself walking along the Thames! This poem was perhaps, then, inevitable, although it’s taken a couple of weeks to get it posted.
(17.02.24)
Poem 223 – Boxing Day Anecdote
Catching up on poems from the last few days…
A little weary, out of rhythm,
we rise to scattered festive relics.
An anecdote is told about
a former poet laureate.
Required walking to clear our heads
and settled Christmas lethargy.
We stop to feed Egyptian and Canadian
geese and opportunistic pigeons.
Back home it’s time for lunch, comprised of
yesterday’s offcuts before
a most unexpected reprise,
“You know that story? I missed a line,
‘I woke besides the ugliest woman…'”
A true story…
(26.12.23)
© Ben Quant 2023
Poem 218 – I’m A Winging It Man
I’m a
winging it man, no pressure, a just in time fella,
you must just trust your guts, no sweat, don’t fret.
We’ll get there in the end if I don’t send
you round the bend before we wend our way
towards our final destination.
I need
a deadline to demand my desperate
attention, to draw together inspiration.
There’s nothing like a red line in the diary
to generate that sense of do or die and
finally draw together focus.
However,
I must remember others work differently than I do
planning out the when and where and why to,
pinpointing places, stages, steps and times.
Maybe, perhaps I ought to be more pliant,
and for our sake give it a try too.
As we head into Advent, in my line of life it begins to get rather busy with deadlines hunting in packs. Sometimes I wish I was one of those more organised types, but I fear I tend towards working on one thing at a time and a lot of flying by the seat of my pants. Whilst I find this last minute chaos generally works for me, I’m aware that those who are of a more thinking ahead of time nature can find it difficult if not infuriating! Right now, I’m living on adrenaline.
This one’s an experiment in over the top, repeated an obvious rhyming. To be spoken aloud and fast.
(25.11.23)
© Ben Quant 2023
Original photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash
Poem 216 – The Foodbank Nicked My Chocolate Cake
Oh, dear, I found out late
The foodbank nicked my chocolate cake
Oh, no, it was not funny
But apparently it was quite yummy
They scoffed the lot
and stuffed their tummies
and left behind
this plate all crummy
But oh, how, I laughed out loudly
When I found they’d eaten the wombat’s brownie
I’m writing this at the end of a fantastic day hosting Paul Cookson the performance poet, with shows and workshops at two local schools before back here at our church. Just before the show we discovered that our foodbank had accidentally given away our refreshments and decided that ‘The Foodbank Nicked My Cake’ would make a great title. Here’s my quick stab at this in pale imitation of Paul’s children’s verse. I’m afraid you’ll have to have been at his gigs to get the punchline…
(17.11.23)
© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by iMattSmart on Unsplash
Poem 215 – Waiting for the Poet
I’m waiting for the poet
I’m twiddling my toes
I’m impatient don’t you know it
just walking to and fro
I hope he won’t be long now
’cause he’s coming to my home
and I fear I may have broke it
by adopting an rather awkward rhyming scheme
that doesn’t really flow as it should
Excited to have Paul Cookson, an inspiration for me with his daily poems, coming to stay tonight before before visiting our local schools and then doing a gig in the evening for us. …He arrived just as I wrote the last line!
(16.11.23)
Poem 200 – The Wedding Dance Floor
Last night I danced all night.
Today I have no voice
and blisters on my toes
to witness my exploits.
It may have been a case of
defiant dad dancing
but do I care? Do I?
No, not at all! For those
few hours I lost myself
within the moment.
Earlier this month I had the joy of attending the wedding of a couple I know through church. It was a wonderful day for a wonderful couple. The disco was great fun too – I only hope I didn’t put others off… I wrote this at the time and have finally dusted it off and made it presentable.
(30.08.23)
© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Greyson Joralemon on Unsplash
Poem 199 – Greenbelt Portaloo Roulette
A midnight queue
to use the loo
the final act has faded.
Where could it be,
this lavatory,
on which my bum descended?
A Kettering field
in which we yield,
our hearts and minds upended
A place of grace
but a trial I face
‘cos without a trace
the toilet roll has ended!
Greenbelt Festival is home to me, a place I’m pulled back to year after year to meet friends, have my soul restored, and enjoy a thoroughly good time. This year was no exception. The combination of talks, music, camping, and yes, poetry, is good for me. Home now, I’m missing it all, all that is except the portaloos…. Here’s one written at the end of Saturday night.
(29.08.23)
© Ben Quant 2023
Ode for the Day 