Politics

Poem 354 – Bread and Cheese

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You brought bread and cheese you’d made.
We sat and ate and talked about
ourselves around this simple feast.
And as we ate we opened up
about our differences. We talked
about our cultures, tastes and dreams,
the things that make us us, and learnt.
Somehow, this daily act brought us
together, across the miles that lay
between us; it made us one. I wonder
why it sometimes seems so hard,
when all it takes is bread and cheese.

On Fridays we run our Conversation Cafe at church for people with English as a second language. It is a big highlight each week.
(15.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Alla Hetman on Unsplash

Poem 351 – Abracadabra

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Sophie’s magic trick
“Masquerading as a male”
Fools Magic Circle

9th December 1991, the Magic Circle finally allowed women to join their ranks, only to find that one already had! Sophie Lloyd, disguised as Raymond, had earned her place. With the decision of the Circle she revealed her true identity, and was promptly kicked out… Now, the Circle is trying to find her again, in order to invite her back.
(12.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Sergi Viladesau on Unsplash

Poem 350 – Eleven O’Clock

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Was there a moment when the bombing stopped,
that the world stood still and all fell silent?
Did the clouds pause in their heavenly paths,
the birds stop their song, and stand in branches?
Did rats and mice cease their scurrying
to survey the scene in curiosity?
The sergeant’s call to attention issued, the trees
no longer swayed but stood alert and upright.
Church organs held their breath, their anthems hanging
discordant, waiting to find their resolution,
while city hawkers gripped unfurled headline posters, the news as yet to be confirmed.

A poem for Armistice Day.
(11.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Diana Parkhouse on Unsplash

Poem 349 – Remember

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Pin on the poppies
Line up the flags

Lay out the wreaths
Grieve for the past

Stand still in silence
Remember the dead

Hold onto our history
Learn from those left

I had the privilege today of speaking at our local Scout Group’s Remembrance Sunday event.
(10.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024

Poem 344 – Fawkes’ Face

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We are surrounded by so many faces.
I play the game of guess the nationality.
Sometimes I get it right but most not.
‘That’s an American’ becomes a Swede;
the Pole is Portugese; the Irish, Dutch,
the ‘dead-cert German’, a Geordie; and every
other transpires to be a Liverpudlian.
On this day when we remember Guido,
perhaps this ambiguity matters most.

There is great people watching to be had at the hotel at mealtimes…
(05.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024

Poem 327 – Selina

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For such a time as this
a woman placed perfectly
within the social web.

Restricted by her sex
but bold in faith and hope,
she rejected expectation.

Ensnared by Love she weaved
compassionately a net
to catch her wary peers.

With tea and conversation
she welcomed with her chaplain
noble and politician.

Meanwhile the miner, unschooled
children, the poor and sick,
also received her care.

And as this web was woven
a grace filled spell was cast
entrancing church and country.

I’ve been reading up on the finder of our church’s movement, Selina, the Countess of Huntingdon. What a remarkable woman, to me, the Esther of her age. She deserves to be remembered so much more than she is – and a better ode than this!
(19.10.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo: Selina Hastings, Countess of Huntingdon by Unknown artist oil on card, circa 1770 NPG 4224 © National Portrait Gallery, London. Used with permission.

Poem 320 – Next Time…

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The annual attempt to represent
my life within the cellular confines
of an excel spreadsheet.

My comings in and goings out
laid down in stark columns of numbers
and totalled up for all to see.

It’s hard to get excited about
the number of cups of tea, and stamps,
and miles I have consumed.

And so as the deadline looms
I strain to recollect exactly
what I did a year ago.

There, it’s done. Click send and breathe.
Now it’s in the accountant’s hands.
Next time, I promise, I’ll do it earlier.

With the end of the tax year falling near Easter, despite good intentions, I never quite get around to filling in my tax returns when I know I should…
(12.10.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Olga DeLawrence on Unsplash

Poem 309 – Two Worlds

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When two worlds collide
Just what is the solution
When the argument between
Defence and prosecution
Ignores what is offered
Ignores resolution
Is all about winning
Not peaceful conclusion
There’s no accommodation
And this generation
Remains stuck in the past
Follows the last
There’s no way out
No chance for doubt
An eye for an eye
And a tooth for a tooth
Take out the doors
And blow off the roof
The victims the innocent
Along with the truth
The children are crying
Their parents are dying
Following the firing
Of bullets and bombs
Hope is undone
By the use of the gun
Can’t we please all step back
Get life back on track
Put down all our weapons
And stop the parading
And all the lie trading
There’s work to be done
If we are to find
Peace in our time
When two worlds collide
And help them align

A bit of a word splurge, this one. Definitely not my usual style at all, and probably a bit naff. A case of starting to write, following the flow, and seeing where it took me. And this is it.
(01.10.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Emad El Byed on Unsplash

Poem 289 – Cats

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It’s not enough to take our jobs,
And skulk upon our streets in mobs
Be housed in what were once our flats,
Apparently they’re eating cats

They come here for an easy ride
An onslaught that’s a rising tide
And swarming like a cloud of gnats
Apparently they’re eating cats

Their aim is to corrupt our children
Destroy all our fathers built us
And now we find on top of that
Apparently they’re eating cats

This is the heart of Donald’s moaning
To tell the truth it’s all baloney
Like much he says it’s made up, phoney,
So laugh with Kamala when Trump claims that
The immigrants are all eating cats

Trump’s absurd one-liner in last night’s presidential debate just had to be turned into rhyme…
(11.09.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Lloyd Henneman on Unsplash