Science, Technology & Medicine

Poem 444 – Old Gods

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Psalm 19:1 NIV
The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.

Raising my smartphone to the skies I search
the heavens for their ancient inhabitants;
modern tech becoming a prayer calling
the old gods to be modern occupants.

Small Mercury, messenger to the gods,
flits faintly between the horizon’s distant flames,
hiding from sweet Venus’ advances
as she shines upon young lovers’ nocturnal games.

Above, King Jupiter reigns from his heavenly throne
causing me to crick my neck not bend my knee.
Finally, hawkish Mars asserts his strength
his face flushing in his angry fury.

This revelation thrills me as I learn
the identities of these distant glowing bulbs,
I revel in the glory of these prizes
as they’re poured from creation’s laden treasure vaults.

I was introduced to the Stellarium app recently. I took it out for a whirl at 6.30 this evening to discover I could see four planets in the sky with the naked eye. Amazing.
(04.03.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by isaac sloman on Unsplash

Poem 398 – Call Centre Blues

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Your call is important to us
So we’re placing you in a queue
And playing some lovely music
For you to listen to

Your call is important to us
So we’re recording every word
We’ll listen back to it often
To learn from what we’ve heard

Your call is important to us
Along with the other ninety-nine
We’re looking forward to speaking to you
When we finally have the time

Your call is important to us
We’ll hang onto every jot
We’re sorry to leave you waiting
But abruptly this call must

I’ve had the joy of feeling with a few call centres recently. Occasionally one comes along that is great (thank you Indra), but often it’s a nightmare.
(17.01.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by LumenSoft Technologies on Unsplash

Poem 395 – Installing Washing Machines

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It always sounds straightforward
in the manual. Simply
remove the packaging,
undo the bolts and then
attach the pipe and hose.
Turn on the water. Pray
(it doesn’t say this but
I find I always do).

It always sounds straightforward
but bolts stick then they snap.
Attaching pipes requires
amazing acrobatic
acts behind the units.
Despite how tight you tighten,
the water always leaks.
I swear then pray some more.

This evening I installed a new washing machine. I think it’s sorted, but I won’t know until we use it. Of course to check all’s good, I’ll have to get behind it yet again to look for puddles…
(14.01.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Leif Christoph Gottwald on Unsplash

Poem 379 – After the Flu

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That strange out of body feeling,
As you venture out for the first time,
To find the world has continued without you.

Peripheries blur in slow motion.
You float above your advancing steps,
Wondering if Armstrong felt like this.

Someone has switched gravity off,
Time is definitely running slow,
But being out? That’s one giant leap forward.

Having written a poem a day every day since the start of August, the momentum finally went last week when we all came down with the flu. Back into the fullness of life this week as we head towards Christmas.
(18.12.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by v2osk on Unsplash

Poem 362 – In Honour of Leonardo Fibonacci

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This
Is
Not a
Nonet. It is
A Fibonacci verse, in honour of
Fibonacci Day. Get it? No? Check the date –
Unless you are British not American, in which case I fear it’s nonsense!

The Fibonacci sequence is a sequence in which each number is the sun of the previous two, starting 1,1,2,3 just like today’s date (ignore the year).
(23.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Original photo by Hans-Peter Postel, CC BY 2.5, via Wikimedia Commons

Poem 361 – Tomorrow…

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I will fly with the freedom of a soaring bird,
sweeping through the air with grace and speed,

Do somersaults down the high road,
leaping over fences and running along walls.

Jump up and down like an excited child
unable to contain their glee.

Touch my toes with my nose and
curl my torso impossibly tight.

Stand up and sit down because I can
and then do it all over again.

Pick my clothes up from where I dropped them
and hang them in their proper place.

Pretend I’m Usain Bolt and, with cocky confidence,
sprint down corridors and pull his pose.

Lift twenty crates of food with just one hand,
and juggle with them as if they were balls.

Tomorrow, I will do all these things and more,
but today I’m sitting still.

Unfortunately, the back is not so comfortable today, ah well, tomorrow….
(22.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Chris on Unsplash

Poem 358 – Oops, I Did It Again

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It wasn’t a case of twist and shout,
instead an innocent bend and twinge
and the immediate realisation that,
‘Whatever that was, I shouldn’t have done it!’
This hunch was keen and true, and moving
I knew at once I had returned
back to square one’s vicinity.
Ah well, who wants to be able to sit
unaided and sneeze without electric
spasms? These add such spice to life!

I only tried to pick up my gilet…
(19.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Inge Poelman on Unsplash