A tall gentleman pacing around in circuits,
A woman being wheeled past, who smiles and waves,
A book of Dad jokes, sometimes inappropriate,
A carer noticing the unnoticed,
The groaning of a ghost in an upstairs corridor,
A visitor, uncertain of where to go,
Loved ones, and those who can see beyond their years,
A manager who makes this home a home.
A snapshot from today.
(13.01.26)
No headspace, heart space, creativity,
My debt has been called in. Today I’m done.
The bills have all been paid, I’m overdrawn,
But interest is paid in by the rising sun.
Today’s one of those days when life takes up all my capacity.
(12.01.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Museums Victoria on Unsplash
There’s something in those eyes,
a passing thought or feeling
that briefly wakes and flickers.
It’s hard to read its meaning,
though, and I’m left uncertain
of what transpires within.
Just as with a painting on
display, I’m forced to make
my own interpretation,
and in an act of violence,
superimpose my own
emotion on your frame.
This leaves me feeling anxious,
have I not understood
your silent art at all?
(01.01.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Olivia Anne Snyderon Unsplash
Three sisters, booted, in their Sunday frocks.
The youngest pouts, disgusted by her lot,
her hair a spiky scrunch, too short for bunches.
The jersey thrust on her causes her to hunch.
Is it a disguise for a mess that lies beneath?
Inside an anger brews, beware of its release…
The middle stands with shoulders back, chest out,
a face that boasts I’m beautiful and proud.
You can tell she’s used to getting her own way,
there’s a quizzical look in her eyes as if to say,
I wonder what it’s like to live like you,
a life where others tell you what to do…
The last child bends, she knows the weight that comes
from the expectation laid on the oldest one.
To rub it in the middle is the belle –
she wouldn’t say it but the oldest knows it well –
instead, with pencil clenched she etches out
her sister’s eyes when no-one else is about.
Three sisters, booted, in their Sunday frocks,
this sepia picture puts them in the dock,
and there we’ve stared at them and weighed their deeds,
a judgement forged from imaginary feats.
Extrapolating from this snapshot caught in time,
where would you stand within this awkward line?
This photo was unearthed as part of my wife’s family tree research. What a wonderfully expressive trio of faces demanding to be interpreted. I didn’t mean for this one to rhyme, but it just came out that way – does it work or just make it twee? I’m not sure, perhaps reading it again in the morning will answer that one!
(30.12.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Boxes, a family joke at Christmas:
an unwrapped box may not contain
the items on the cover, so don’t
be fooled or disappointed by them.
A WiFi router may in fact be
a cafetiere, a bulb some undies,
a clock a disguised set of tools.
So set your face against surprise
and open cautiously with imagination!
Boxing day and we’re surrounded by the wreckage of unwrapping from the day before…
(26.12.25)
The dying chords of our final carol ring,
A pilgrimage around the busy motorway,
Percussive rattle of the brown concrete surface,
No star to follow for us this Christmas Day.
The King speaks on journeys as a nation eats,
The rustle of our golden paper crowns,
Alcohol doused, to cheers the pudding burns,
Now Santa Claus has finally come to town.
Shirt sleeves rolled up and dirty dishes stacked,
Hot water bubbles as cooking pans are scoured,
Cautiously, old vegetable water is drained away,
No doubt the brussel sprouts will linger for hours.
With belts let out we sit, the mood relaxes,
Our daily lives for now are put aside,
And as our sleepy senses fade we hear,
The ancient echoes of Mary’s baby cry.
It’s been a lovely Christmas Day, full of sights, sounds and senses. Merry Christmas all!
(25.12.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by freestocks on Unsplash
Our eyes snagged across the crowded room
Like velcro strips, we were hooked on each other
A quick one today, a couplet about a couple that sprung to mind as I walked to an engagement today.
(09.12.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash
It’s funny how the small things make a difference.
Our new sofa is smaller than the last;
it means we’re sitting closer. I think that counts.
There are too many things in life that pull us
apart to let soft furnishings join in.
When we were children the old cliché applied,
a cardboard box meant hours of fun ahead.
We’d play all day confined within its walls,
they kept us close and working out the rules
required for us to live our lives together.
We’re too sophisticated now within
our isolated bubbles. Arms’ length is safe.
Lurking behind a username we seek
community simply with those like us.
Perhaps it’s time to buy a smaller sofa.
A conversation this week reminded me of Ben Elton’s observation of the changing definition of community from living with those around you who are different from you, to it being seeking it those who think the same a you. And it’s true, we have a new sofa.
(06.12.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Pavel Boltov on Unsplash
Tonight we gathered:
Different faces on the screen,
From different places,
Different nationalities
And IT capabilities,
Different occupations,
Expectations, theologies.
Tonight we gathered,
United in our hope and faith
And prayed,
One family in Him.
Tonight The Connexion, the family of churches I belong to, gather online for prayer. It was wonderful to see the family again so soon after Conference.
(18.11.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Milada Vigerova on Unsplash
Eight men, eight grown-up men at that, all sat
Around a table playing games. It seems,
A little childish perhaps, a desperate clutching
Onto passing days, of memories
Of living wild and young and fearlessly.
But here we’re free to put aside, for now,
Responsibility and simply be
Ourselves. To set aside the expectations
Put upon us by ourselves and others.
Right now the world reduces to the choices
Made, the turns we take, and all that matters
Is the fun we find, investing in each other.
We end rejuvenated, ready as
the table and the world expand again.
Today I travelled back from a weekend playing boardgames with friends. A wonderful time, thanks all!
(17.11.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Ode for the Day 