Poem 839 – Gethsemane

Apr 2, 2026Apr 2, 2026 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

The air was replete with birdsong,
Heavy with light and life
But that was in the day
And now the night has come.

With darkness’ descent,
The breeze is suffocated,
Breath evacuated,
And every song is stilled.

Watch the flowers close,
Hiding their colours, concealing
Faces, whilst ancient olives
Turn their crinkling backs.

Look, one by one their weighty
Eyes begin to droop,
Joining the garden’s slumber.
Now see! The soldiers come.

Today we remember the Last Supper after which Jesus and his friends head out to the Garden of Gethsemane where Jesus was arrested. The opening line came from a walk this lunchtime in Lee Valley Park which was glorious with birdsong; a counterpoint to my reflections on the day.
(02.04.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Stacey Franco on Unsplash

Poem 838 – Questions for Judas

Apr 1, 2026Apr 2, 2026 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Did you spring up those final nervous steps,
Or walk with heavy heart and dragging legs?
Was it laced with anger, your request?
A sense of sadness, or perhaps regret?
Did you expect a welcoming embrace,
Or fear closed faces turning you away?
What did you expect to get in exchange,
How many coins made up the going rate?
What led you here? What fueled this giving up?
And when did you discover your mistake?
Thirty silver coins does not sound much;
How much did you expect this deed to make?
Was your life dictated by the sword?
Or did you for love betray your friend and lord?

Judas has always intrigued me. He is only recorded as asking one question of the chief priests, ‘What are you willing to give me?’ I have a lot more that I would ask him.
(01.04.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Joshua Hoehne on Unsplash

Poem 837 – Holy Tuesday

Mar 31, 2026Apr 1, 2026 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Matthew 21:18-22

The fruitless fig tree withers,
its barren branches bend
contorted in their thirst,
a dry and desperate end.

Besieging soldiers’ swords,
the temple stones are torn
one tumbled on another
a crumbled carcass scorned.

A cursing Christ decries
the poverty of their lives
the lack of love that’s seen
no faith, no fruit, just leaves.

Today’s Holy Tuesday of Easter week, the day Christians traditionally remember Jesus’ cursing of the fruitless fig tree and the fruitlessness of the Temple this symbolised.
(31.03.26)

Poem 836 – Holy Monday

Mar 30, 2026Mar 31, 2026 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

In deft defiance, an act of holy disorder,
The tables are turned within the Temple Courts,
And many moneychangers made to moan.

An act of targeted terrorism or
The perfect protest made to pillory
The priests’ hypocrisy in oppressing the poor.

In judgement Jesus stands for the Gentiles, calling
For peace and prayer, not spiteful separation,
Aiming his anger at their acts of partition.

Today is Holy Monday, the day that Christians traditionally remember Jesus’ protest in the Temple.
(30.03.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Anton Mislawsky on Unsplash

Poem 835 – A Palm Sunday Sonnet

Mar 29, 2026 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

The red kite wheeled observing us below;
a skillful twitch of tail, a turn, a dive
to keep us in its view. We gathered so
that we might not forget just how you strived.
Your fight? To make your message plain that you
were not the coming saviour that we reckoned
on. From feeding multitudes with food
to handling ‘blind’ religious leaders’ heckling,
you laid out in deeds your Father’s call on
your life to rule by sacrifice not might;
a monarch on a donkey not a stallion
demanding love by deeds instead of right.
The kite joins children crying out in hope
its mewling anthem joins their pericope.

Arriving at church for our Palm Sunday service this morning, I was quite taken by the magnificent red kite flying overhead. Not my best (still trying to get to grips with rhyme), but it will do.
(29.03.26)

Poem 826 – For the Innocent of Iran

Mar 20, 2026 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

The days are light and spring is here.
Winter now seems a distant coup
and so I was confused when you
proclaimed with joy, Happy New Year.

Nowruz Mobarak, ‘happy new day!’
On hearing playful birds’ fresh tunes
and admiring the new born blooms,
the penny dropped, it’s more sense this way.

And so I wish you hope this instant.
Whichever start you mark, I pray
that amongst the shelling you may stay
faithful, and find there hope persistent.

It’s the Iranian New Year today, or so I learnt from my new Iranian friend at our Conversation Cafe. My prayers are with his family and the ordinary people of Iran, those caught up in a war inflicted upon them by those in power.
(20.03.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Chris Linnett on Unsplash

Poem 824 – Potential

Mar 18, 2026 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

I was only looking for something clumsily
knocked behind our exhausted kitchen units.
For once I’m glad of silly hamfisted blunders…
Taking off the wooden panel revealed
the cup lids lurking in a darkened corner.
Grasping them triumphantly I found
my fingers strangely damp and stained with earth.
Wet? It doesn’t rain down there and yet
the evidence suggests otherwise…
A mobile phone becomes a makeshift torch
illuminating spiderwebs and trash,
an eerie realm of quirky, eccentric shadows.
Contrasting with the dark are silver streaks,
glistening like precious ore deposits,
momentarily magical until
the mundane reasserts itself. This is
not wealth but water, treacherous and slick.
I search and search until I find the source,
the finest spray from an unassuming valve.
Even the mighty Nile begins like this,
and like a river, such current flows and spreads.
Do not dismiss the potential of small things.

Thankfully, we were able to fix it. Hopefully it will dry out without too much damage to the flooring…
(18.03.26)

Poem 818 – Them Foreigners

Mar 12, 2026Mar 13, 2026 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Sometimes, I wonder who the foreigners are?
The ones housed in a nearby hotel I’ve come
to know, whose humanity has touched my soul?
Who had to turn away, with shuddering shoulders,
fearful for their family in Iran?
The ones who persevered, despite their stuttering
tongues, to find a way across the gap?
Who strove to get a job and contribute,
caring in ways that we cannot or won’t?
Or those celebrating its closing down
by insisting ‘them foreigners aren’t welcome here’?

The more I’ve got to know our neighbours, the more I’ve seen our shared humanity.
(12.03.26)

Poem 808 – Embrace the Grey

Mar 2, 2026 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

As I’ve got older I’ve noticed
That grey has invaded my eye brows.
They are not alone.
Increasingly I find
It in my politics
And streaking my theology.
Gone are the days of black
and white and hairlines,
And close up I don’t see
So clearly anymore.

It’s not that I have lost
The idealism of youth,
I remain a dreamer,
But I have learnt in this world
Sometimes options are messy,
Not simply right or wrong.
This isn’t a dreary dullness,
An insipid washed out life,
But an edgy place of risk
That forces thought and faith.

I thought when I’d grown up
I’d know, you know, but no.
The certainties have gone
And all that’s left is hope,
And living on the line,
And love and love and love,
And nothing’s riskier than that.
And so I think and pray
And act and hope and trust
That Love is big enough.

Honestly demands me to admit that the older I get the less I think I know. Thankfully, amongst the debates and decisions, the question gets simpler, what does love look like here.
(02.03.26)

Poem 807 – I Believe in Tomorrow

Mar 1, 2026 / BenDQ / Leave a comment

Tomorrow bombs of confetti will
be dropped on those we disagree with.
Campaigns of generosity will
be inflicted on our enemies
and joyful marches will take place
protesting love for the stranger.
Tabloids will express a welcome
and social media will be social.
During elections our politicians
will say nice things about each other,
and spam bots will be used to give
good gifts to naive recipients.
Tomorrow the lion will lie with the lamb
whilst all colours will dance together.
I still believe tomorrow will come,
I do, but for now we just drop bombs.

I refuse to give up but sometimes it’s hard to hold onto hope.
(01.03.26)

Ode for the Day

An experiment in poetic doodling

Spirituality