Chris Rea

The sound of flowing blues,
And slide of molten gold,
Those tapping dancing shoes
And notes of aching soul.
An humility of sound,
All time and never show,
The understated master,
Has finally made it home.

Another of my guitar heroes has left us. That slide guitar and gruff vocals.
(22.12.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Burak Erenoğlu on Unsplash

Stumpf Fiddles & 78’s

The Duke takes to the stage,
Two suits and greying dreadlocks,
In hobo-chic and whimsy.
He owns it, we are his.

Beside him Chip, sidekick
In gramophone adventures,
An ever growing assembly
Of percussive curios.

Stumpf fiddles & 78’s,
Together weaving dreams,
They lead us through forgotten
And delicate shades of rhythm.

And as the applause begins
To fade, we find ourselves
Returned enriched, released,
We find, by a poet’s vision.

Thursday night we spent the evening in the company of the wonderful Duke Special and ‘Temperance Society’ Chip Bailey in an intimate gig in Colours, Hoxton. What a night.
(28.11.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 411 – As One

Making contact when conversation
doesn’t work, when words are sounds
that don’t come back, a look remains
ambiguous, devoid of meaning.

The simple joy of nursery rhymes
sung in a circle, face to face,
that bridge the gap, enliven souls,
provoke a smile and joining in.

The thrill of holding toddlers in the
palm of your hands, provoking laughter,
and drawing those who played apart
together into unison.

One of the joys of my week is doing time at Toddlers. It’s a magic moment when we caught up together as one.
(22.10.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash

Poem 700 – Heart Surgery

I met him in a queue once
a line inside a theatre
a few snatched words thats all
and yet he diagnosed me.

A handful of lyrics paired with
a simple tune – that’s all
it took to bypass my
defences, strike the mark.

My voice broke long ago
so why do I now hear
a creaking in my song as
I sing along this morning.

I’ve been enjoying the latest Divine Comedy album ‘Rainy Sunday Afternoon’ this week. I sense that he and I are hitting similar life stages right now.
(26.09.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 685 – Reunion

In boxes on the top of a dusty wardrobe
lie old friends, preserved and stacked with care.
Plastic cases side by side, a musical trip
down memory lane. Tonight, we met again,
and dusting down our glad rags took to the floor,
exchanged our news and played our songs once more.

This evening I ‘rediscovered’ some boxes of CDs packed away on top of a shelf in my office, a musical record of the last 30 years or so.
(11.09.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 646 – Soul Music

This blend of frequencies
And dash of dancing notes
Discordant clash of crochets
Resolved by soothing tones

Pianissimo to forte
Its power is unrivalled
Unearthing hope unspoken
Moving, forging lives

Watching Lord of the Rings tonight, and listening to its soundtrack, reminded me once more of the power of music.
(03.08.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Mike Castro Demaria on Unsplash

Poem 629 – Jazz Hunt

I’m searching for the swing,
Staccato syncopation,
Digging deep to find
Those dark and husky notes.

I’m summoning up the spirit,
Reaching for the vibe, of
Adderley, Rollins, Shorter,
Past masters of the ‘phone..

I’m seeking out the style,
A yearning aspiration,
To find perfection’s rhythm
And move both heart and soul.

A few weeks in and I’ve realised that, although I’m never going to be a master, I might just be able to get to a reasonable standard with continued practice.
(18.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash

Poem 608 – Just Four Notes

Those dusky notes invoke
The confident style of artists
Playing with casual swagger.

In black and white and blue
These pioneers in rhythm
Charted paths as one.

Dancing in defiance
Improvising in flight
And finding voice for souls.

A week of rehearsing a little bit at a time, I’m finding I can more consistently get the notes I’ve learnt and even play a few tunes. Even with my beginner’s squealing, the sax instantly invokes the sound of jazz. I’m going to love this journey!
(27.06.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Jens Thekkeveettil on Unsplash