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
Stepping out from safety’s bounds towards
The unfamiliar, outside the manicured lawns,
The Father carries the Son within his arms.
The stillness strange, all sounds ring out unreal,
An eerie feel pervades the morning air.
A squirrel seems surreal, a beast at large.
But from his seat he has no cares, the child
Has eyes only for his Father’s face, the two
Absorbed in conversation’s gleeful flow.
One points, the other laughs, they pass my bedroom
Window, both unaware that they have roused
My soul and stirred my weary heart with hope.
Walking in the last morning of Conference today I was more than weary; as always it has been demanding. The passing sight from my window picked me up, however, a glimpse of the love The Father has for all his children.
(29.10.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Look at these stones!
They stand so proud, so strong, so powerful.
How could they ever fall or fail, these stones?
These men of steel, they’re always men it seems,
with dreams of empire celebrated by
their self-erected statues to their honour.
Look at these stones!
These city walls that reach up to the heavens!
These tall towers built on stocks and shares
that tear the timid down to clamber high.
Exchanging life for digits gleaned, they rise
demanding that we bow before them.
Look at these stones!
These AI gods we’ve built in silicon,
their algorithms fashioned in our image,
our blindness coded deep within their souls,
lurking unseen, unknown, because
we do not even know it in ourselves.
Look at these stones!
But even stones don’t last forevermore,
these brittle bones that break will fall away.
One day the oblivious wind will blow them down,
their monuments will fade, decay to dust,
and as the sun descends they’ll dissipate.
Look at these stones!
They are but sand and every one will pass.
This morning we reflected on Mark 13 in our service, in which Jesus responds to the disciples awestruck comments on seeing the Temple, surprising them by predicting its fall. It made me wonder what our stones are today.
(26.10.25)
When cares collide, sometimes I cram them in
a tin. Tapping the lid down tightly, I hope
to keep them contained, concealed and under control
until I have the time to take them out
and dust them down to deal with them. Sometimes
the tin begins to tremble, threatening
to pop its top and pour its contents upon
the floor, a flood of feelings exploding violently,
crashing indiscriminately without a care.
Beware of what might happen if you wander
nearby when noticing this introvert
begin to blow!
Don’t worry, I’m ok, just messing around with alliteration!
(24.10.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Toby Elliott on Unsplash
Making contact when conversation
doesn’t work, when words are sounds
that don’t come back, a look remains
ambiguous, devoid of meaning.
The simple joy of nursery rhymes
sung in a circle, face to face,
that bridge the gap, enliven souls,
provoke a smile and joining in.
The thrill of holding toddlers in the
palm of your hands, provoking laughter,
and drawing those who played apart
together into unison.
One of the joys of my week is doing time at Toddlers. It’s a magic moment when we caught up together as one.
(22.10.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash
Fireworks exploding in the rain,
their light and sound juxtaposing
elements, colour and culture.
Diwali elbows Guy Fawkes in
the ribs, in riotous celebration.
It’s the first time I’ve heard Diwali fireworks on an autumnal English evening.
(20.10.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Elisha Terada on Unsplash
Our eyes meet.
Not across a crowded room
or pulsing dance floor
but in the train window,
falling upon each other’s
reflected against the backdrop
of a quickly changing landscape.
This is, of course, exactly
what we were seeking to
avoid. We flinch confused,
not certain what to do,
before shifting our focus
to gaze upon the verge.
Being English on the train means avoiding human interaction. On Saturday evening I failed despite my best efforts.
(13.10.25)
Ode for the Day 