The imagination of rain.
A dream that calls forth life
in torrents of shapes and sizes.
Thoughts that whisper strands
of DNA helixes,
a multitude of colours
and possibility.
Ideas externalised
in passing forms,
mirroring those made flesh.
Creativity
dispersed to root and river.
Although the clouds threatened in Hunstanton today, we only got to enjoy a brief hint of rain, no more. It was enough to cause the title of this poem to come to mind, however.
(04.08.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
The Wash slides in and reaches over
in a gentle but relentless flow.
Its touch is tender but love is not
always thoughtful or reciprocated.
It feels as if we might be slowly
consumed, grain by single grain.
An evening stroll along the front at Hunstanton.
(03.08.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
The river undulates,
a snake-like peristalsis
wrapping around the city.
It lets us ride upon
its rolling back, for now,
but don’t forget it isn’t
tame – at any time
the Thames may turn and bite,
a bitter serpent bite.
Enjoyed a day upon the Thames today, but on the final stretch noted how its movements seemed alive.
(01.08.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
A lazy walk along the River Lee.
Passing pink clouds dissipate and fade in
transitory trails, the evening’s tiring sun.
The air is empty, no birds announce their presence.
All is still. Responding we stroll in whispers.
A quiet walk at the end of another busy day.
(25.07.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Scene from the window:
England’s pale and yellow land
Dusty, burnt and parched
The view driving from Nottingham today was a clear contrast to previous weeks with the fields turned yellow and dry.
(21.07.26 revised 22.07.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Valentin Lacoste on Unsplash
Today I buried Reynard,
Enjoyed a coffee in Spoons,
And was mistaken for Thomas Tuchel.
Today I sat beneath,
A ghostly barn owl fly-past,
And partial rusty moon.
Today has been surreal,
Disturbing and exciting,
And sometimes awe-inspiring
A long and busy day.
(20.07.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Lou Barros on Unsplash
So now renowned in far Flanders
Across the Narrow Seas, 1
He took Turfrieda in his embrace,
With arms now proven in strength and grace,
Declaring ‘No more should we be displaced,
Let’s live as family!’
We’ve been apart for far too long,
Let’s leave and forge a home,
Back in the Fens, my Father’s land,
Let’s up at once and go!
And so he gathered up his men
With Siwards Red and White,
The chaplain Hugo Britannious,
With prayer and sword a genius,
His brother too, one Withardus,
A knight of valour and might.
And so they sailed across the Seas,
Past France, back home again,
Where Old Man Heron patient stood,
And pike and perch swam in the brook,
And eels swam past the willow wood,
Back to his Mother Fen.
After sharing a few verses with my father yesterday, I’m feeling inspired to press on with this ballad, and determined to intertwine the tale of Hereward with the character of our shared fenland home.
(14.07.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Image public domain
All these self-important men in black strut
upright across the lawn, pronouncing verdicts
confidently to the air. Wigs slipped across
their eyes, they do not see that no one cares.
Their clattering is nothing but stray noise.
The garden was full of them this morning, all I could hear was their constant chatter!
(10.07.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Lisette Harzing on Unsplash
A glorious name for something
as humble as a fruitfly.
A mere milimetre,
a comma in the air
punctuating the bowl
of warm and ripening bananas.
An overlooked contestant
in evolution’s race?
Perhaps, as whilst I wilt
under this heatwave’s sun
you’re born in paragraphs,
a cloud of dancing pauses.
Working today, I became aware of fruit flies, my companions from biochemistry days, accompanying me once more.
(09.07.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
Now exposed to the elements,
your striped back bones are bleached
and fading fast. You tilt to dip
your toes into the welcome water
and, finding its embrace enticing,
you slowly slide under its sheets,
a cautious paddler, one inch at a time.
A boat has been abandoned in the river at the foot of our road. Whilst it’s an unsafe eyesore, it’s also fascinating to watch it gradually decay.
(08.07.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Ode for the Day 