Poem 773 – A Winter Walk

Jan 26, 2026Jan 26, 2026 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

The sky’s translucent. A milky haze of mist
gives substance to the air, a thin and sloppy
semolina. It cloaks us and the land
beneath our feet. I shiver bitterly.

Beside this winter garb, the earth is bare,
with not a bloom or waking bud in sight.
Standing mutely watching us go past,
the sheep appear resigned, their fleeces stained.

Above, a glider sails the milky sea.
It moves in circles, like a silent bird
of prey, only it never swoops. Below,
I turn my collar up and press on home.

Went for a walk around my parents’ house today. Lovely, but it’s taken much of the rest of the day to warm up again!
(26.01.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by SAJAD FI on Unsplash

Poem 764 – The Three Companions

Jan 17, 2026 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Three gentlemen stood perched along the bank:
the heron, egret and the cormorant.
The first, an aged fellow, grey and boney,
so motionless he seemed already dead.
His beard hung limp along a saggy throat,
contrasting with those penetrating eyes,
alert and constantly alive to us.
Beside, a smaller man not grey but white,
the translucent white that only comes with time,
serene and wise. Two unexpected river-
bedfellows. But is this stillness just
their cover? Up above their carer pearched,
high upon an ivy clad lookout.
Wry grin upon his long, compassionate beak,
he watched wondering what mischief lay ahead.

Walking along the New River today, we spotted the unexpected sight of a great heron, little egret and cormorant next to each other. Surprising and somewhat comical.
(17.01.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Jessica Moss on Unsplash

Poem 755 – Storm Goretti

Jan 8, 2026Jan 8, 2026 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Water sloshes from the sky like ocean waves
Crashing recklessly over the pavements,
Whilst rivers run, white rapids down the roads,
Tumbling torrents full of energy.

Crashing recklessly over the pavements,
Flushing the world within its hungry wake,
The storm’s a torrent full of energy,
A hungry deluge devouring the darkened sky.

Flushing the world within its hungry wake,
The urgent raindrops drum incessantly,
A hungry deluge devouring the darkened sky
Whilst sunshine hides its light in guilty shame.

The urgent raindrops drum incessantly
As rivers run, white rapids down the roads.
The sunshine hides its light in guilty shame
Whilst water sloshes from the sky in waves.

I enjoyed writing the pantoum a couple of days ago, and so thought I’d try another on this rainy day.
(08.01.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Kostiantyn Li on Unsplash

Poem 752 – Under the Dusty Moon

Jan 5, 2026Jan 8, 2026 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

The night is dark and cold, another world.
Inside, the dark house creaks, could it be haunted?
A creature crashes against the neighbour’s fence,
accompanied by the roar of a passing bike.

The dark house creaks, could it be haunted?
My wife breathes alongside me oblivious,
accompanied by the roar of a passing bike.
Somewhere a lover argues on his phone.

My wife breathes alongside me oblivious.
Meanwhile rubbish blows along the pavement
as a drunken lover argues on his phone;
two strangers drifting under the dusty moon.

As rubbish blows along the empty pavement,
a creature crashes against the neighbour’s fence;
two strangers adrift under the dusty moon.
The night is dark and cold, another world.

A pantoum in response to a post by Pádraig Ó Tuama.
(05.01.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Gary Fultz on Unsplash

Poem 749 – Under January Skies

Jan 2, 2026Jan 8, 2026 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

The winter’s sky, the bitter pale,
Bites our faces and bleaches soil,
Its cutting sun burns scars in our sight,
With crispness of air and blinding light.

The iron ground and crinkling step,
That crunches under frozen foot,
Is joined above by a piercing breeze,
Whipping shivering birds and naked trees.

And we, caressed by dying sun,
In melancholy are undone,
And looking forward count the cost,
Mourning the things that aren’t yet lost.

Inspired by a chilly walk and a line I read today.
(02.01.26)

Poem 744 – December Walk

Dec 28, 2025Jan 8, 2026 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

The Lee is grey, reflecting the winter sky.
The piercing wind penetrates my coat,
and sharply flutters around my ears and collar.
The heat drains from my fingers. I start to shiver.
Along the bank the swans stick out no more;
today their feathers blend with the monochrome. We stop to feed them. Guzzling eagerly,
they have their fill, stretching their necks for more.
We walk on by the boats, bouyed on by hope,
as Christmas lights break through the gathered gloom.

A winter walk along the River Lee with the family.
(28.12.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 727 – The Morning Reveille

Dec 11, 2025Jan 8, 2026 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

The sentry stands alert upon the shed,
his puffed out silhouette proudly picked out by
the rising rays of the winter sun. Lifting
his beak, he expands his scarlet chest and shrills his fanfare. Branches straighten in response.

I often find myself watching our garden birds first thing as I look out of our kitchen windows.
(11.12.25)

Poem 726 – On Being Watched

Dec 10, 2025Jan 8, 2026 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

I’m being watched intently.
A pair of hungry newts
seem to think I could be dinner.
Constantly turning their necks,
they keep me in their gaze,
plotting how to catch me.
Suddenly I panic,
are they the frog’s decoy?

This evening I’m working alongside the tanks that contain our son‘s pets. I’m worried that they might be hatching a plan…
(10.12.25)

Poem 716 – The Heavenly Flock

Nov 30, 2025Jan 8, 2026 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

First Sunday of Advent, a late afternoon walk.
After a month of stillness, the air is thick,
filled with the raucous call of avian chatter.
The reason for their talk, the cause of all this conversation? Could it be that the birds
also anticipate the birth of Christ, God’s Son?
We walk on by, hearts lifted by their song.

The bird song this evening was noticeably louder.
(29.11.25)

Poem 710 – Making Sense of Lfe

Nov 24, 2025Jan 5, 2026 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Filling in the blnks,
Personalising the crwd,
Identfyng objects
Hgh in the gathering clouds.

Forevr seeking patterns,
Our brains instinctivly,
Fill in all the gaps, to mke
Snse of what they see.

This is our superpowr,
Our mnd’s great party trck,
Unless there’s no connecton,
And then we come unstck.

All that said, I’ve never been good at the missing vowels round in Only Connect…
(24.11.25)

Ode for the Day

An experiment in poetic doodling

Natural World