Natural World

Poem 347 – Dolphin Hunting

/ BenDQ / 1 Comment

This brooding landscape’s constantly on the move,
a bewitching vista, coyly teasing us with
fleeting hints and passing apparitions.
A shape catches in the corner of the eye.
You turn only to find it’s gone and all
that’s left’s a question, hanging in its place.
Hoping that amongst these surging peaks they
may be found, we press on through the waves.
What’s that? You spin, a flash of grey lifted
above the spray, but no, it’s just a fish.
This false hope dashed, gone with the darkened waves,
and so time ebbs away and with it passes hope.
Resigning ourselves to disappointment, we pretend
the caves were enough. Too loud we cry, ‘All’s good!’
Bracing ourselves with bravado we turn for home,
and then, and only then, the waves are broken,
as up towards the cheering sky it soars!

At the third time of asking, our boat ‘sailed’ today. Two years ago we took this excursion along the coastal caves and then out to hunt for dolphins. We enjoyed it so much we had to take the family this time around. Dolphins? No joy, but we were finished to see leading tuna as we turned for home.
(08.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024

Poem 343 – Ancient Echoes

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A line of bird-like steps
strut confidently up the cliff-face,
towards its sandstone crest.

With toes outsplayed, they tread
through time, a shadow traced
on ancient tracks and paths.

Relentlessly, the waves
crash onwards, their roar
an echo of past voices.

Once permanent, now fleeting,
these footprints quickly fade,
the tide flows out, they’re gone.

Today we went dinosaur footprint hunting on the coastline near Albufeira. We found them, but they were already much eroded. (https://www.portugalresident.com/dinosaur-footprints-uncovered-at-albufeira-beach/)
(04.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024

Poem 329 – Until

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The dying light briefly tinges treetops
with a bronze flourish, a terracotta tone,
suggestive of the summer past. Catching
the yellow leaves, it hints of a reprieve.

It is, however, only momentary,
a briefest farewell kiss before departure,
a passing gesture to sustain us through
the coming darkness, until Spring’s dawn.

Looking out of my window this evening, the sky turned the objects a slightly otherworldly colour tonight, just before darkness descended. A companion piece to yesterday’s poem.
(20.10.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Uta Scholl on Unsplash

Poem 319 – Northern Lights

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Last night the Northern Lights stepped out, came south,
a holiday for celestial phenomena,
illuminating skies with swirling swathes
of dancing reds and pinks and greens and yellows.

A one night only premier played out
to astonished audiences gazing upwards who,
gasping, reached for phones and cameras
to capture this extraordinary event.

It seems the entire country stood in rapture,
entire that is except for one, yes me.
I sat inside writing about heaven
oblivious to it prancing around my head.

As it says. Trust me to spend the one night they came my way inside writing sermons in blissful ignorance. Gutted.
(11.10.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Joshua Woroniecki on Unsplash

Poem 316 – Raindrops

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Bulbous bombs of water
explode on contact with
the ground, or windows, or clothes.
Penetrating cover
and piercing any armour,
they always find a way.
Skin momentarily holds them,
keeps them back, but in
the end even this is
futile and our bodies
become infiltrated.

It’s raining outside. We have a leak at church.
(08.10.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Eutah Mizushima on Unsplash

Poem 307 – Sunrise (Revisited)

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All was dark in the moment beforehand
As if only we were abroad
But somewhere a whisper awakens
Bidding workers to attend to their chores

Stoke up the furnace ’til it’s ready
Then prize open its door just a crack
So a halo of pink might outline roofs
Now released, there’s no holding back

Its torrent boils over the floodgates
Pours into the skies in a flash
A writhing of rust and vermillion
Persimmon and cadmium clash

It’s urgency rages in anger
Like a blazing volcano erupts
It’s fierce stallions charge onwards relentless
Against night’s forces resisting its thrust

The darkness regrouping intensifies
Its blackness seems blacker than the grave
But nothing can hold back dawn’s progress
Triumphant its glories cascade!

As fast as the battle was opened
Dawn’s turmoil is over and done
Morning’s light is finally upon us
Its peace has been violently won

I enjoyed revisiting one of first poems the other day, and so decided to do it again today with ‘Poem 5 – Sunrise‘ from 12.10.21, again reworking its rhythm and trying some rhyme.
(29.09.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by kazuend on Unsplash

Poem 306 – By the Fitting Rooms

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Seeking solace in numbers, they flock together,
Perched on the edge of clefts and aisles and chairs,
Whilst down below their mates peck through the clothes.

Though close, they never acknowledge each other’s presence,
Except perhaps a brief shared nod between them,
In recognition of their mutual plight.

And as each female emerges to the flock,
They twitter, preening hair, and staking claims,
Puffing their chests and hoping that she’s theirs.

There’s always great people watching to be had in shopping centres…
(28.09.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Denver Saldanha on Unsplash

Poem 298 – Newton’s Squirrel

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A cat has taken up residence in our garden.
They didn’t ask, they simply chose their spot
and stayed without a please or by your leave.
Each day they laid there as still as the ground below,
until yesterday, when they saw a squirrel.
Transformed, they moved by quantum mechanics from here
to there seemingly in one instantaneous
blurry blip, Schrödinger’s cat on ‘speed’.
Luckily, for every action there’s an equal and opposite
reaction, and Newton squirreled the squirrel away.

I think we’ve been adopted. I don’t know if it’s a stray or domestic cat that’s simply taken a liking to our garden, but it’s certainly staked it’s claim.
(20.09.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Jaël Vallée on Unsplash