Poem 232 – Winter Morning’s Ride

Jan 18, 2024Jan 18, 2024 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

It’s dark, and as I mount my saddle to
ride out, my limbs are stiff and unresponsive.
The dawning sun perches upon the valley
hill-line and casts its weary eye abroad.
Below it, ripples catch alight and burn
in contrast to their frost-drained surroundings.
The cold inveigles itself uninvited,
kicks off its shoes, and squats amongst my bones.
My muscles clench like bailiffs, but they fail
in their eviction efforts. It persists.
As fingers burn there is no choice but to
stoically press on in imitation.
At home, the heat violently awakes me.

It has been a bitterly cold week, in which I have been out a number of times on my bike. Although the surroundings are beautiful, it hurts.
(18.01.24)

© Ben Quant 2024

Poem 231 – Opening Act

Jan 10, 2024 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Serial splashes mark dog walkers passing.
One whooping swan flies overhead alone;
its powerful wings, outstretched and proud,
propel with purpose. I wonder at its passing.
The weary winter sun ascends reluctant
from its cloudy bed, as do commuters,
cocooned within their padded hats and coats.
The lake sits, an empty stage awaiting the
entry of its residents, as does the day,
whose curtains open up before me.

This was written after accompanying my son on his morning ride to catch the commuter train to work.
(09.01.24)

Poem 228 – Moses Goes for a Drive

Jan 4, 2024Jan 8, 2024 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

There’s a river where the road is, a
rolling, writhing, river brown that
snakes around my wheels and threatens
to submerge me, drag me down. This
river wasn’t here before, it
caught me by surprise. Before I
had a chance to turn away, it
surged up to my fearful doors. No
turning back, I am committed,
I must stay the course. I hold my
breath, steady the wheel, lift up my
staff and hope and pray. Be bold and
trust that God makes waves and once more
saves the day.

On the 9th day of Christmas I found myself driving in Nottinghamshire through flooded roads brought about first by Storm Gerrit and then Henk. I found myself wondering what the consequences of mingling an electric car with flood water might be…
(04.01.24)

Poem 226 – The Sixth Day

Dec 31, 2023Sep 5, 2024 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

The ghost of Gerrit grumbles through our garden,
its urgent whispers whipping leaves away
in merry dances, diving down amongst the
branches before rebounding skywards.
Above, the languid light retreats, leaving
our cloud shrouded landscape down below;
its inhabitants hiding behind curtain covered
windows, seeking warmth from winter’s cold.

A piece of alliterative verse inspired by a gloomy day between Christmas and New Year, with the weather still affected by the tail end of Storm Gerrit.
(30.12.23)

Poem 223 – Boxing Day Anecdote

Dec 29, 2023Dec 29, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

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 221 – Between

Dec 9, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

The sun hesitates;
the damp ground is left longing.
This seasonal purgatory is
an advent pause that’s caught
between what was and what’s to come.
A time to hold our breath
and wait in faith and hope.

Walking back from taking a Christmas assembly at school earlier this week, I was struck by how gloomy it was. The day hadn’t quite managed to begin, and probably wouldn’t do so before night set in.
(09.12.23)

Poem 220 – Winter’s Bite

Dec 1, 2023Dec 1, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

This morning’s frost looked beautiful but
it bites my neck and makes my muscles ache.
My fingers have become a fading white.
My breath’s condensing on my nose. It drips.
I brew more cups of tea to warm within
but even this becomes draining,
necessitating even more trips to the bathroom.
I fear to look in the mirror.
Will anything be there? Or is, as I suspect,
the cold in truth a thirsting vampire with
its fangs open in sharp and siphoning anger.

It’s cold…
(01.12.23)

Poem 211 – Ascending Donard

Oct 30, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Booted we seek to climb,
assert ourselves, impose
our will. Slieve Donard howls.
Fierce tears define its shape,
sharpen it’s angst and contours.
Woken, it’s rage defies
our rise and pushes back.
Determined, we persist
and brace against the gale.
Our worlds compress until,
heads bowed, each walks alone.
This wild and reckless peak
doesn’t surrender meekly.

Recently I met with flatmates from university days to go walking in Northern Ireland. Our first walk was a climb to the peak of Slieve Donard, the highest point in Northern Ireland. The weather raged as weather should on such a walk. It was truly magnificent!
(30.10.23)

© Ben Quant 2023

Poem 210 – Autumn Mornings

Oct 25, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Zoe Ball speaks and yet the world is dark?
I double check in case the clock deceives.
Alas, it doesn’t. Zombie-like I rise.
The morning’s urgency has drained away,
its greyscale smear a strain upon my soul.
Even our pot plants share this weariness;
their flowers droop, they hang their heads in shame,
and outside in the dark the trees stand bare.

I’m not a morning man. Our alarm clock plays Radio Two to wake us up. It now sounds before the sun rises. This is not a good combination.
(25.10.23)

Poem 209 – River Reynard

Oct 6, 2023 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

The early morn.
Two foxes sprinting
fluid and fast.
Coursing the street
their game of tag
washes its banks.

4am. I’m up early to catch a plane, walking to the local train station. In my peripheral vision I spot a red blur. Two foxes with more energy than me fly past.
(06.10.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Wen Zhu on Unsplash

Ode for the Day

An experiment in poetic doodling

Natural World