Poem 240 – A New Day

Apr 18, 2024 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

The subtle scent of freshly woken grass
and crispness of the sky arrest me as
the door is opened on the dawning day.
Sparrows, already up, are catching the
proverbial early worm and the morning’s gossip;
the air is thickened with excited chatter.
Jostling students join them, calling out
greetings to newcomers in their growing flock.
I remember being in their number.
But now is not for melancholy thoughts or
nostalgic longing for carefree childhood days.
I wave goodbye to my departing wife
and note the soft cool air that curls around
my naked ankles; I’m still in my pajamas,
time to wash the night away and dress.
Cat Stevens comes to mind and Etch-a-Sketch
where with one swipe the old is wiped away
and the new is ushered in.

The smell of dew dampened grass greeted me as my wife left for work this morning, bringing with it the fading refrain of Morning Has Broken sung at a recent funeral.
(18.04.24)

Poem 239 – Returning to Epping Forest

Apr 17, 2024 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

We find a rare side street with no restrictions
and park upon the pavement, leaving room
for pedestrians and vehicles to pass.
The tarmac’s tense beneath our feet, uptight,
and rigid with the rigours of modern life –
on view, it knows no peace and must perform.
Stepping through the curtain of a hedge
we fall into another realm, a relic
of ancient landscapes, lost and long forgotten.
No tarmac here beneath our feet, instead
bracken unfurls it’s fingers, reaches from
the softness of this springy earth to wave
its fronds towards the canopy above.
Beneath these trees we find a foreign ease –
or rediscover rest our strivings have displaced.
No regimented conifers in rows,
instead the gently scattered beech and birch
doze idly dreaming by the oak and hornbeam.
The wood is still. No breeze or foreign sound
intrudes upon its peaceful contemplation.
Only the conversation of the birds
above accompanies us. Here we are dumbed
as time unwinds, slows down and stops awhile,
a moment that transports us to the ancient
forest that straddled this fair land. If only
we could stay and stay our hands of old.

Last weekend we visited Epping Forest, somewhere I haven’t walked in since I was a child. Although the sun was out and it was unseasonably warm and bright, underfoot was boggy. The air was humid and still and our conversation was stilled.
(17.04.24)

Poem 238 – This Sea of Voices

Apr 6, 2024 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Their conductor enters, knowingly grins,
then turns and lifts his hands. They rise
a swelling wave, bass to soprano.
This tide is made of many voices
eddies, waves and tributaries
that make a single sonic surge.
Seal-like, a young woman sits
beached upon a chair, her smile
bubbles forth contagiously;
laboured on the land, she finds
her freedom once submerged.
A moustache adorning tenor of
germanic tendencies (surely one
of Einstein’s heirs!) leans on a stick
supported by an office worker
(grey, bespectacled), who as the waters
break across the stage becomes
reborn, his face quickened, alive.
Straight gentleman (stiff upper lip,
bow-tied and greying, manicured beard),
sings by an unexpected companion;
a retired rocker reliving Lennon
(round specs, white hair and rhythmic pose).
You sense he isn’t really here
but there, a 60’s Peter Pan
lost in the coastal pools of youth.
A frail bewildered ghost, unsure,
is led, then settles in the song,
her anchor amidst the fog of age.
Another woman stands serene,
a silver moon reflected in the
ripples, singing a sirens song.
Unified, this sea of voices
crashes upon our sands as one
then dissipates to our shingle’s applause
left ringing in response.

Today’s poem was inspired by a show I recently attended featuring a variety of choirs. I was struck by how the disparate collection of characters they were formed from could make such a rousing, living sound.
(06.04.24)

Poem 237 – i am

Mar 21, 2024 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

my neurons’ pulsing electro beat
the rhythm of hormonal flow
my parents genes and nurture’s feat
the past drags me along in tow

i’m born my culture’s bastard child
a pinch of this, a dash of that
in tension with each other held
the product of a life compact

my jobs, my pets and what i ate
the microbes that within me grow
my prejudices obstinate
the lingering trace of where i go

i find within a tug of war
between these different identities
to separate them is to tear
it’s never i, it’s always we
it takes the world to raise a child
and this child is never truly free
from each and every one compiled
but no regrets, they made me me

For all sorts of reasons, I’ve found myself thinking a lot about identity, the sense of being distinct but influenced by so many factors. Sheldrake’s ‘Entangled Life’ raises the question of whether or not we are more network than individual. Provocative.
(21.03.24)

Poem 236 – Entangled

Mar 12, 2024 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

What is this alien brain/no brain
that weaves its weft and warp, pervades
the world? A web of teasing fingers
that, tangled, threads through soil and roots.
It rules without our recognition
hidden beneath/within/without
blurring boundaries, one yet other.
Silently it speaks and calls
in foreign words, articulates
beyond our comprehension; this
mycelial ‘deity’ in whom
‘we live and breathe and have our being’.

I’m finally reading Merlin Sheldrake’s ‘Entangled Life’, an exploration of the world of fungi that I referred to in ‘Poem 77 – WWW‘. What a glorious enigma they are, I had no idea of the extent to which life is pervaded by and dependent on them.
(12.03.24)

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)

Ode for the Day

An experiment in poetic doodling

Natural World