Poem 467 – Enforced Intermission

Mar 27, 2025Nov 25, 2025 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

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)

Hear me read today’s poem

Poem 457 – Armed with Art

Mar 17, 2025Nov 24, 2025 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

My weapon is a melody,
My sharp sword is a verse,
My prayer a faithful missile fired
Across the universe.
Imagination changes lives,
And poems are armed with dreams,
Guthrie’s guitar killed fascists, yes
The truth will set us free.

The opening line came from today’s prayer meeting, which sparked off thoughts of Guthrie and The Notting Hillbillies version of The Weapon of Prayer.
(17.03.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Image: Al Aumuller/New York World-Telegram and the Sun (uploaded by User:Urban), Public domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Woody_Guthrie_2.jpg

Poem 456 – Last Post

Mar 16, 2025Nov 24, 2025 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Outside the light began to fade,
as inside I was making tea.
Filling the kettle, I was arrested,
by the melodious sound of a lone
blackbird saying its prayers before
its bed. I stood in awe, enraptured,
moved to add my own amen.

A beautiful moment at dusk tonight.
(16.03.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Benjamin Balázs on Unsplash

Poem 452 – Man vs. Garden

Mar 12, 2025Nov 24, 2025 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Today I’ve been pruning a bush.
That is an understatement.

I’ve been chopping up remains
of vast swathes of branches culled
from overgrown hedges and bushes
and dumping them in our bin.

It’s been a battle, one man
with secateurs versus
Mother Nature gone wild.
Mother Nature is winning.

Eventually, Mother Nature
always finds a way,
but meanwhile, here I am,
trying to tame her excess.

Each piece recalls the past,
each snip a season gone,
and as the wheelie bin is
filled with trimmings, time flies.

Today I’ve been being pruned,
my sense of self stripped back,
perspective re-established,
the brambles will be back.

With winter gradually receding, I’ve been trying in vain to maintain garden order…
(12.03.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 443 – Spiritual Explorers

Mar 3, 2025Nov 24, 2025 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Setting out,
with trusted friends,
for mutual support.

Delving into,
the hidden motives,
for our deeds.

Taking risks,
with honesty,
a worthwhile cost

Travelling inwards,
our adventure,
of the day.

Today I met with colleagues to discuss our practice of ministry to learn and support each other. A stimulating and helpful exploration.
(03.03.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Nina Luong on Unsplash

Poem 442 – Life Cycles

Mar 2, 2025Nov 24, 2025 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Past.
The tree drank deeply of the earth’s dark soil,
its roots absorbing water from secret distant pools.
Stretching its wooden limbs it reached out branches,
all striving for the shining sun’s bright rays.
From sapling to its full grown majesty
it slowly grew, unfurling limbs then leaves.

Present.
This table’s dead; no sap or life flow here.
Its extendable leaves now lie in twisted pieces;
they’re warped by age and wear and wrenched by boots.
Redundant, I throw the separated branches
into the boot to drive it to the dump,
hurling them into the designated coffin.

Future.
The future is as yet uncarved, unknown.
Will it be pulped, transformed to card or paper?
Or maybe mulched, returning nutrients
back to the earth to nourish future roots?
Out of its greatness, greatness may return;
as earth to earth, from death comes life again.

From and afternoon spent taking old and broken furniture to the local ‘dump’ (recycling centre), sprang thoughts about the cycle of life.
(02.03.25)

Poem 439 – A Poet’s Self Portrait

Feb 27, 2025Nov 24, 2025 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

The poet lifts his brush and, looking in
the mirror, examines himself with detailed care.

First stroke, a daub of colour describing appearance.
A skinny build, slim jeans, a preference for green.
Once full and dark, the hairline’s now receding
as eyebrows morph, becoming peppered white.
A patch of red upon the cheek that flares
and hazel eyes, that yellow when run-down.

The second stroke, lays down habitual hints.
Five calloused fingers from running down six strings.
Rubbing his back reveals the daily lifting,
or Sunday morning kit lugged from the car.
A tendency to slouch, a life of study.
Perhaps the knees should be more worn than this.

The third and final stroke stares deep within,
tracing beyond his stoic exterior.
A war of looming textures and clashing colours
explores the shades of grey, the constant tension
between the love of self and love of other,
that errs towards the one he knows it shouldn’t.

Laying down his brush, the poet ponders
just why it is we’re quick to catch the blemishes.

On a walk today I found myself wondering what a poetic self-portrait would look like. I suspect it would be more revealing than this, but I’m not sure I’m ready to do that yet!
(27.02.25)

Poem 438 – With Brother Lawrence

Feb 26, 2025Nov 21, 2025 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

The act of ironing a shirt
Can be a form of meditation
Each line and sleeve become a prayer
Crisp creases bringing satisfaction

A busy day, ending with some housework, means just a short one again today.
(26.02.25)

Poem 418 – A Smile

Feb 6, 2025Nov 21, 2025 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

I’m not so sure she actually knew
Just why she smiled, but it didn’t matter.
Her smile said it was okay to continue,
Her smile revealed a connection,
Her smile said she was on my side.
I smiled back and carried on.

Afterwards we sat together over
A cup of tea and cake and talked
About large families and names.
She said she’s good with them, ‘I’m not’
I replied, ‘so tell me yours again.’
She laughed and smiled that smile once more.

Cups drained, ‘It’s time to go’, I said
She waved as she was wheeled away,
Smiling a farewell smile, ‘I’ve got
A large family you know’, she revealed.
It didn’t matter. The smile had told
Me all that I had needed to know.

I met K**** today at a service at our local nursing home. It was a chaotic affair as usual, with folk coming and going, and heckling or simply crying out. I don’t mind that too much, I’ve learnt to look for other clues that tell me that it’s worthwhile.
(06.02.25)

Poem 416 – Enough

Feb 4, 2025Nov 21, 2025 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

I’ve sat here for a while and have concluded
that today I haven’t much to say.
I’ve answered emails, shared a lunch, and helped at
food bank. It’s been a fairly ordinary day.
The company’s been good, the job’s been done
but nothing to write home about, or write
a poem about. I haven’t had profound
thoughts or ecstatic moments but it’s been alright.
The everyday is not to be rebuffed,
sometimes the ordinary is enough.

It’s been a fairly standard day, and you know what? That’s fine.
(04.02.25)

Ode for the Day

An experiment in poetic doodling

Spirituality