Relationships

Poem 471 – Sailing Solo

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

Thirty years on and I’m still not bored
of being in your company;
we fit together you and I.
But sometimes I fancy some time to myself,
to do the things that you’re not into.
When those occasions come along
I make grand plans and varied lists,
and look forward to my solo adventures.

Perhaps I’ll ride my bike all day,
looking magnificent in lycra.
Or stay in bed and read a book,
from cover to cover, under the covers,
only emerging for food and drink.
Elsewise, I’ll grab my guitar, and cranking
up the volume to eleven, master
tricky licks and guitar god poses.

But when the day arrives, I find
myself unmoored, adrift in aimless
seas, wishing the silent hours
away, waiting for my rescue.

A restless weekend on my own.
(31.03.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Little John on Unsplash

Poem 467 – Enforced Intermission

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For one afternoon
we had no internet.
The world didn’t end,
at least, not in real life.

No doubt the fires raged
on social media as
celebrities were cancelled,
politicians vilified,
and wild views justified.

Football pundits were stilled,
pop-up adverts burst,
and the only cookies crunched
had chocolate chips – no trolls
were fed today, just me.

Maybe Artificial
Intelligence took my place,
an algorithm wore
my face. I’d like to think
you’d spot the difference.

Our telephone
is still not working.
The silence lingers.
Oh what bliss…

Today we swapped broadband providers, and for one wonderful afternoon we were cut off.
(27.03.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Kristina Flour on Unsplash

Hear me read today’s poem

Poem 460 – Let Me Paint You a Picture

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

The other night we gathered.
Not around a fire like
our predecessors but
around the table with
the plan of telling tales.

We started with the story
of our days. We shared frustrations
our triumphs, hopes and dreams;
wielding brushes to paint
the scene we wanted seen.

And then our make-believe.
A painting of a haunted house
investigated by
our alter-egos, bravely
searching for the truth.

Its strange, but when I hang
these portraits side by side,
there’s no denying that
the brushstrokes are the same.
Two different worlds connected.

Today the news, more stories.
A splash of colour here
a daub of darkness there,
all vying for opinion,
surreal, unreal or real?

Stories within stories.
Landscapes created by
our conflict. Colours clash
and mix, until we find
some truth emerging from them.

What is truth? I suspect that’s the question of our age. I’m increasingly aware of how we reveal and hide the truth within the stories that we tell.
(20.03.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Ahmed Raza Kz on Unsplash

Poem 440 – The Extent of My Knowledge

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I am ignorant of the life you’ve lived.
I am ignorant of the world you live in.
I am ignorant of how you feel.
I am ignorant of what for you is real.
I am ignorant of what has moulded you.
I am ignorant of what controls you.
I am ignorant of its expectations.
I am ignorant of its revelations.
I am ignorant of your aspirations.
I am ignorant of your hesitations.
I am ignorant of the shoes you chose.
I am ignorant of the shoes you’re given.
I am ignorant of what you want.
I am ignorant of what you need.
I am ignorant.

Inspired by my conversations today in both pastoral visits and at our Conversation Cafe. I’m astonished by how little I know of the world, and how little I appreciate or recognise the experiences of those around me.
(28.02.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Ben Weber on Unsplash

Poem 428 – Two Friends

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The simple joy
Of an evening spent
With two old friends

Two friends whose lives
Have intertwined
And accompanied ours

Two friends who shared
Our wedding day
(But sadly not with us)

Two friends whose children
Have become
The friends of ours

Two friends who’ve walked
Our joys and trials
As we’ve walked theirs

Two friends with whom
We can relax
And simply be

Seemed an obvious follow-up to the last couple of days’ poems. That’s not us in the photo though, surprisingly I’ve virtually no photos of just the four (or eight) of us. Thanks J&B!
(16.02.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Devin Avery on Unsplash

Poem 427 – ‘Days’ Revisited…

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Eleven thousand,
One hundred and thirty seven,
Spent married to you.

Who’s counting? I am.
Each matters, every one a
Choice made together.

From the heady start,
Somersaulting down the aisle,
When Ben married ‘Ken’.

The joy of shared walks,
Exploring each other’s hands,
And ways of thinking.

To expanding love,
The miracle of childbirth,
And growing as one.

Enduring Ofsted,
Learning how you like your tea,
Shared viva anger.

Funding the future,
Investing all my eggs in
One basket with you.

Every day matters,
From mundane daily chores to
Ecstatic highlights.

Eleven thousand,
One hundred and thirty seven,
Spent in loving you.

Ok, so yesterday’s hastily scrawled haiku didn’t convey the feeling behind it (the time was better spent doing that in person than absorbed on the mobile writing!) Hopefully this conveys some of that. And yes, our vicar did try and marry Ben and Ken, his embarrassment a cause for great delight for the rest of us!
(15.02.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 419 – Eyes

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I have two eyes.
They’re the only eyes
I’ve ever had.

My eyes are hazel.
My eyes are white,
My eyes are male,
And middle class.

I wonder what
I’d look like with
Two different ones?

I wonder how
I’d see the world
And how the world
would see me if

My eyes were black,
My eyes were gay
My eyes were female
My eyes were rich
Or working class?

I have two eyes.
They’re the only eyes
I’ve ever had
I must remember
That they come
In different types
And mine are mine alone.

It’s been a fascinating day spent with people of a whole range of cultures and backgrounds.
(07.02.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by v2osk on Unsplash