Poem 83 – Covid Guidelines

I’m still working on ‘The Visitation of Black Shuck’, it’s coming along nicely. In the meantime today I was challenged to rewrite the church’s Covid guidance to those hiring it for parties in verse. Over I quick cup of tea, I hastily threw this together… a bit of light relief

Our doors are open
Please come and visit
But don’t forget
We’re in a pandemic

Here are the guidelines
For us to follow
Please pop on a mask
And open a window

It’s not so wise
To gather in the middle
Don’t overcrowd
Spread out a little!

But if in the end
You’re stuck isolating
We’re more than content
To help rearranging!

(03.02.22)

© Ben Quant 2022

Poem 77 – WWW.

They say you can be lonely in a crowd
Feel isolated, solitary even, in
A throng of others densely gathered round
The tree, perhaps, resides in this position
Bearing so tall, so mighty and so proud
Aloof, and self-sufficient, self-assured
Possessive, owning its own patch of ground
The tree’s an isolated individual
Yes, even in a wood this seems the case
They congregate but each stands on their own
There’s no society found in this place
Where every trunk extends skyward alone
But this estrangement’s our misapprehension
Their interaction’s taking place elsewhere
As down beneath our feet there’s conversation
Within the soil a constant silent prayer
Communing in earth’s cold and damp, dark bed
Along pale fibres intercessions flow
Their whispers spread through mediating threads
Ubiquitous networks of fungal growth
No tree in isolation stands but each
By every other in the wood is cared
No one in need finds it is out of reach
As warnings, news and nutrients are shared
We celebrate the world wide web’s creation
Enabling arms to reach around its girth
But nature could have been our inspiration
Its wood wide web first stretched throughout the earth

I was first properly introduced to the concept of the wood-wide-web when reading Underworld by Robert Macfarlane (https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40643657-underland). He writes of the infectious enthusiasm of Merlin Sheldrake (https://www.merlinsheldrake.com/), one of the leading researchers into this symbiotic relationship between trees and fungus, which allows communication across vast areas in ways which until very recently we were unaware of. Absolutely fascinating. His ‘Entangled Life’ is next on my reading list…
(21.01.22)

© Ben Quant 2022

Poem 76 – Red Lines

This morning drew a thin red line
Delineating night from day
Thus separating what has been
From what has yet to come our way
Meanwhile another thin red line
Emerged upon my plastic stick
Announcing I could play my part
In all this new day might yet bring

Another quick one today, after a full day of work and college. Brain full of toddlers, practical theology and commuter trains for anything more imaginative or deep!
(19.01.22)

© Ben Quant 2022

Poem 73 – Maintenance Illumination

The manual makes it sound so easy,
‘Loosen the clip, unscrew, replace.’
Experience shows it rarely goes,
As smoothly as this might suggest.
Where does the boot release switch hide?
Should the clasp casing hang like this?
How can I get my hand round there?
Which way is it supposed to twist?
In light of this, there’s no surprise,
That when our headlight faded fast,
I did not fix it on my own,
But asked the garage, I’ve learned at last!

I think this one speaks for itself! Car maintenance is never as straightforward as the manuals make it out to be…
(16.01.22)

© Ben Quant 2022

Poem 69 – Ancient Roots

I spat in a tube this morning
To find out who I am
And then that tube was posted
(Apologies postman!)
Of course there’s more to me
Than my genetic code
There’s everything that’s happened
On life’s long winding road
But I have always wondered
Where my tribe came from
Are my roots in Britain
Or do we have it wrong
Perhaps they are Germanic
Or Scandi, French or Switz
African or Asian
But whatever’s on my list
This fair land has shaped me
And others influenced
And through this cultural cocktail
My life has been enriched

I have always felt a ‘spiritual’ connection to the ancient past of our country, and am intrigued to know if my roots go back to the age of barrows and white horses, but whatever the result of my test, I won’t be disappointed as even through romantic eyes, I know this nation has never been racially pure but mixed and all the better for it.

(11.01.22)

© Ben Quant 2022

Poem 51 – Flux

We like to think that time is constant
The regular tock of a ticking clock
But in night’s depth that rhythm is
Vandalised
Jarred
Disrupted in strange discomforting ways that stretch the hours until you fear they must have
Snapped
Whilst dark
It’s light enough to see the time
Its face shines from the bedside table
As laying I wrestle with surreal
Fractured thoughts that flit and tussle
Uncomfortable limbs that ache and toss
And tasks for urgent morning attention
Yet unlike mine it does not age
But gazes fixed upon my weary
Brain that cannot comprehend
Its strange nocturnal ways

Not the best night’s sleep last night and no real idea why. Watching Doctor Who’s Flux finale got me thinking about the nature of time and brought last night to mind.
(05.12.21)

© Ben Quant 2021

Poem 50 – Chaos Theory

The rivulets flow gently down the window
Pane, where they mix and combine randomly
Forming patterns that will not be seen again.
Each stream a unique moment in time that
Once gone is lost and replaced by something
Else, new and similar but changed in strength
And form, each flow departing further than
The one that came before. Eventually
Perhaps the permutations will complete
And finally begin again, but if
They do the order will not match
Such, is this world’s complexity.

I opened the curtains this morning to the sight of rain running down our windows, reminding me of the famous scene in Jurassic Park where Jeff Goldblum’s character explains chaos theory by dripping water on his companions hand.
(03.12.21)

© Ben Quant 2021

Poem 49 – Seeking Superpowers!

Remember how it took a spider’s bite
To transform Peter Parker into that
Amazing spinning, swinging superhero?

I wonder what that makes me as I’ve had
Not one nor two but three sharp needle bites
And antibodies flood throughout my veins!

Alas it seems I haven’t been transformed
There is no lycra suit in my wardrobe
Today my only powers are aching limbs

Yesterday I had my Covid booster. Although I’m glad to have had it done, and as a former scientist would encourage everyone to do so, it’s left me feeling a little grim today. A small price.
(02.12.21)

© Ben Quant 2021

Poem 48 – An Omicron Christmas

Uncertainty brings bitterness and breeds
This mental hesitation, leading us
To hover over plans and pause before
We press the button and maybe withdraw
Brand new unknowns confuse and cause unease
When experts disagree in their response
Are parties on or off this Christmas season
To hold or not to hold that is the question

Listening to the news tonight various experts were asked if Christmas gatherings should be cancelled. There was not agreement…

(30.11.21)

© Ben Quant 2021

Poem 29 – I Think?

Where do my thoughts come from
Are they simply distillation
Of experiences lived and situations seen
A concept torn from conversation shared
Meme like infection spread
Is it true that there is nothing new under the sun
Were they never really mine
Merely a compilation of others’
Mashed, macerated and recompiled
Should I think therefore I am
(As someone once thought!)
Instead read
They think therefore I become
Uniqueness simply a statistical recombination
A regurgitation of what has been before
Is it not possible that in my being
Some organic Hadron Collider
Crashes borrowed insights
And from the impact sparks
Something new
Something me

Sitting down to write today having read a few poems online written by others and mulling over what to write, it struck me how hard it is to write something truly original. The words of the Teacher in Ecclesiastes came to mind:

What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun.’

Eccles. 1:9

Is it true that we have nothing original to offer?

(08.11.21)

© Ben Quant 2021