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)
Spirituality
Poem 418 – A Smile
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)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Lesly Juarez on Unsplash
Poem 416 – Enough
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)
Poem 415 – Completed
I have been made complete, moulded by my maker.
I am an image bearer, bearing his image in my body.
With care my character will carry his within it;
reflecting the family face in my visage,
his will and wants within my walk.
But man is not the mirrored, only the mirror;
I must not imagine I am him,
for in imagining this I become an idol.
For I am not complete unless I live in him
for only in his affection can I finally find my home.
As local ministers we meet once a month to reflect together on a book. We’ve started with ‘The Unhurried Pastor’ by Brian Croft and Ronnie Martin, and our conversation today about being limited beings, who find completion in him and his provision, led to this alliterative verse.
(03.02.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Laurenz Kleinheider on Unsplash
Poem 410 – Ananias and Sapphira
A journey’s start is critical.
The way we start sets expectations,
The foundations on which we’ll stand,
When difficulties dampen spirits,
And doubts threaten to drag us down.
Lord, help me perceive the light in darkness.
Tonight at church we tussled with this difficult story in Acts 5. It always makes me wince. I sense there’s a way into reconciling myself to it in its context of being at the start of a journey.
(29.01.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Thanos Pal on Unsplash
Poem 406 – Reaching for Heaven
Picked out in Eden’s perfect white, you strain,
with necks outstretched, and reach for heaven’s doors.
Caught in between two worlds, your life is laboured
but here, serene in flight, as in the water;
gliding through the blue, God’s arrow shot,
an elegance outlined by morning’s sun.
Oh, that I could grasp a feather and fly
within this sky-born halo, but alas,
I fear my earth-bound fingers would find no purchase,
but slip right through to mourn what we have lost.
This morning a perfect V-formation of swans flew past our window, washed brilliant white by the sun. I pointed this out to my wife who said she knew what today’s poem would be about…
(25.01.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Mathijs de Koning on Unsplash
Poem 396 – A Time to Pray
To speak of peace seems premature.
Don’t get me wrong, let’s celebrate
that shots might cease in Palestine
and missiles end and aid come in.
Let’s leap for joy at hostages’
release. However, that’s not new.
This land has known such ‘peace’ before.
True peace, shalom, salam is not
a lack of war, but no suspicion;
it isn’t tribulation’s end
instead its resolution.
News has been growing today of the long longed for ceasefire between Israel and Hamas.
(15.01.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Dylan Shaw on Unsplash
Poem 394 – A Life
More than the sum of its days
A life is the strife endured
The joy experienced and
The problems overcome.
Its value lies in the web
Of relationships formed and
Love received and given.
Today has been a pastoral day, a day to reflect on what matters.
(13.01.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Mathew MacQuarrie on Unsplash
Poem 388 – Farewell
I’ll never forget the day you locked yourself
out of the house. You called for help – I came.
I broke into your bathroom by climbing onto
the garage roof and squeezing through your window.
Briefly, I hooked my belt around the latch,
which threatened to leave me undressed and hanging.
A deep sense of determination was written
on your face, reminding me of Mount
Rushmore, resolute and irresistible,
a pervading positivity that said
‘this can be done, let’s make the most of it’.
Pragmatic stoicism served you well.
But in your eyes I saw hidden emotion.
I saw your caring check of those around you
and presiding pride in friends and family.
You held my eyes, revealed intelligence,
weariness, frustration at all you’d lost,
until the last page was turned and Wordle done.
Setting out the chairs today felt wrong
as one was in your place – a weekly reminder,
as if one’s needed. Soon we’ll say goodbye.
Ever thoughtful, you’ve told us what you want.
Not wearing black, we’ll celebrate as one
a resolute life in story and joyful song.
Over Christmas we lost a long-term member of our weekly lunch at church. We’ll miss her. I met with the family today ahead of the funeral. These verses emerged from our conversation.
(07.01.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by 🇸🇮 Janko Ferlič on Unsplash
Poem 385 – The Christmas River
Who knows what day it is this time of year?
With punctuation gone we wander through
The flowing hours, never changing gear,
And drift with nothing that we need to do.
The burbling moments trickle aimlessly
And wandering in their tide we meditate,
Sometimes parting to find some tributary
To idle in, then join to celebrate.
The space this absence gives is necessary,
Like sea around an island, it gives meaning,
Defining shape, allows us to be merry,
Highlighting that which lies behind the season.
And so with joy we join the angels’ mirth,
For Christ, God’s Son, our Saviour’s born on earth!
I originally got the date wrong when I posted my last poem. When this was pointed out I said ‘who knows what day it is this time of year!’ A good friend promptly threw down a gauntlet and challenged me to write a poem around that theme and he would do the same. Suspecting he would err towards something informal, I thought I’d go the opposite way and dive into the formal rhyming structure and second half twist of a sonnet!
(04.01.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Ode for the Day 