Relationships

Poem 600 – Hunting Hores

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Hunting Hores in Northam
Finding Fursdons of Fore Street
Hoping for Hugh’s headstones
In Margaret’s grand retreat
Unpicking John Lock’s locale
Crossing off Cross Street
Retracing the tracks of relies
And following their feet
We’re on an ancestry adventure
A holiday in time
And as we find their fingerprints
I’m turning it into rhyme

Day two of our holiday in Bideford. Today we headed into Northam to track down the in-law’s ancestors. And yes, the first surname has been the source of many jokes over time… (St. Margaret’s is the local church).
(06.08.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 593 – Free

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Here, I’m safe to cast aside my faces,
not letting them slip, but tossing them without
a thought onto a pile heaped on the floor;
peeling off the accumulated layers,
revealing the pink and tender skin beneath,
exposing scars and fragile dreams and joys.
I wander naked and without a care,
secure that you will never laugh and point.
This is no mutually assured destruction,
love predicated on the fear of tit-
for-tat, but mutually assumed devotion.

I’ve been writing a series of devotional notes based upon the theme of rest. It struck me that you can only truly rest when you are able to relax about being yourself. It is a privilege to be able to find others with whom you can do this.
(30.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Andre Mouton on Unsplash

Poem 592 – Absent

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Your absence wakes me,
Shakes me into consciousness,
Shouts into my ear,
I want you near, not far.
I keenly sense the space,
You occupied beside me,
The contours of the gap,
You usually fill. I will you back,
Recall your weight, your scent,
Your quiet breathing,
The gravitational pull that,
Holds me in your orbit.
I am contorted, my life abhors
This vacuum that has resulted.
It cannot be filled until
Your peace comes back
And yes, at last, resolves it.

Despite the late journey back yesterday, I woke early this morning, and this poem tumbled out.
(29.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Madi Doell on Unsplash

Poem 587 – Identity Theft

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One moment I was me
The me I’ve always been
But suddenly I find
My name is actually Lynne

I didn’t know I’d bought
A new iPhone 16
And sent it to an address
In a house I don’t live in

My phone has been delivered
To a hand that isn’t mine
I’ve not done anything wrong
But still committed a crime

Joy of joys, someone has used my email address to take out a contract in a new phone from Sky…
(24.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Daniel Romero on Unsplash

Poem 575 – Church Picnic

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A lazy afternoon, spent languidly
flinging frisbees to and fro,
dodging those relaxing on
their chairs engaged in conversation.
A family of young and old,
at peace across our differences,
united by our faith and friendship.
The only errant note? Sharp wasps
attracted by the treats we shared.

A lovely day today with the first of our church summer events, an open air service and picnic at Forty Hall. A perfect day.
(13.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 565 – Enough

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It was operation day today.
It is the way of such things
That everybody says it will be
Okay, and everyone acts
Relaxed. But try as one may,
The truth is, worry is natural,
And no one’s at ease or easily
Pleased until the call is made.
But seeing that her smile at the end
Of the day was enough to make
Him smile in return, now that
was enough for me.

A day spent waiting on a call from the hospital.
(03.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Li Lin on Unsplash

Poem 557 – Revealed

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I’ve known you for a year or so.
But then you turn to look at me,
Your identity is still unclear,
Personality unknown.

What lies behind those searching eyes?
What thoughts are hid, emotions felt?
I can but guess, they dwell obscure,
Kept veiled behind a lack of words.

Until today, that is, for then
I heard your voice. It caught me by
Surprise; you are not who I thought
You were, but now at last you’re heard.

One of the toddlers spoke to me for the first time today. It’s always fascinating to discover how the person it reveals matches up to your expectation.
(25.06.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by 🇸🇮 Janko Ferlič on Unsplash

Poem 545 – Conversation Café

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An hour of conversation,
That reaches around the globe,
Transcending barriers of language,
And animosity shown.

Taking time to listen,
And talk about our lives,
Comparing holiday plans,
And things that make us thrive

A mutual love of camping,
Shared music of the soul,
A common concern for family,
One humanity unfolds.

Another Friday, another Conversation Café, our informal group for those with English as a second language. Use one of the highlights of my work.
(13.06.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 536 – The Catch

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She’s nearly two. Hiding behind her mother’s legs,
her eyes are like those magnetic links on wooden
trains, repelled when other eyes approach.
She risks a playful peak; it does not last.
Eventually she sees the toys surrounding her.
They call for her attention. She responds,
urgently dragging mum within her wake.
I see my chance and holding out a ball
I sit patiently, waiting for the catch.
She bites, I reel, and slowly draw her in.
Tentative fingers clasp the outstretched bait;
before she knows it’s happened we’re at play.

Toddler Group again today, and my regular quest to overcome their shyness.
(04.06.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Clark Young on Unsplash