Tonight, a room of strangers
Set out on an adventure
Not knowing where they’d end up
But setting out regardless
Guided by their questions
And listening to each other
They found a path together
Searching for some answers
Having different perspectives
They expected different opinions
But overlapping views
Lead to a richer treasure
Tonight was our first Alpha session, always an exciting exploration of faith. https://alpha.org.uk/
(24.04.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Felix Rostig on Unsplash
Mild man of modesty
Holding onto humility
Standing with humanity
Speaking from fragility
Looking to the lonely
Serving those in poverty
Yearning for our unity
Loving from simplicity
I’m not a Catholic but I am an admirer of Pope Francis and the way he has lived out his faith in office.
(22.04.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Ashwin Vaswani on Unsplash
Time’s up
Run out
Lost cause
No doubt
Bitter end
No hope
Flat battery
End of the rope
Last orders
A closing chapter
Dying words
Killed in anger
The final nail
Struck in the rod
It is finished
The Son of God
The curtain ripped
The sky turned black
But have no fear
He will be back
A poem for Good Friday. John 19:30 meets Arnie Schwarzenegger…
(18.04.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
When I arrived you’d shout my name, ‘Ben’,
and beckon me over with an insistent wave.
A kiss on the cheek, and an enquiry as to where
I live. ‘Near to your daughter’ I’d reply.
You gave everybody your attention,
knew all your neighbours names and how they were,
although you’d talk about them too loudly, and asked after us and our families, one after the other.
At some point in the service you’d break
into a rendition of, ‘Oh When the Saints!’ –
it didn’t seem to matter when or why.
Eventually, I’d find the key and play along.
We’d swap stories of Scotland, holidays,
and churches we’d attended in our times.
Marching above with your beloved saints
Are you still heckling beyond the pearly gates?
I learnt today that a friend at the local nursing home where I take services died recently. Goodbye Mary, and thank you.
(17.04.25)
Increasing tension,
As the deadline approaches,
Demands attention.
Talks and events are coming thick and fast!
(15.04.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Towfiqu barbhuiya on Unsplash
A rolling writhing
Sea of sound
Hope and hands rising
The roar of the crowd
A swelling number
Rebellious mood
Their chanting thunders
Their branches strewed
Crying hosanna
A country wronged
Occupied land whose
People long
Testimonies weighed
And signs observed
Their verdict made
Announcing him lord
A quick poem at the end of an enjoyable Palm Sunday.
(13.04.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Jacob Bentzinger on Unsplash
Each dusk they fly in flocks
Across the inky sky
A gathering murmuration
And as the starlings gather
Bats begin to flit
And weave their frantic patterns
This transit brings to mind
Another distant view
The passing of the sun
We gathered in your garden
Equipped with tinted glasses
To watch the solar eclipse
Back then, as now, the birds
Flew across the horizon
Going home to roost
But soon it’s time for you
To take to wing and pass
Go heading home to roost
Fly safely, my old friend,
Through this liminal place
And soon the sun will shine
The starlings are massing as night falls.
(08.04.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Jan Haerer on Unsplash
At the end of the walk
look back at the route,
Retrace your paths
and steps, recall
the twists and turns,
the detours taken.
Remember the views,
and picture the scenes
that stopped your breath
and brought you life.
Recount steep paths,
successfully navigated;
gain strength for those
ongoing climbs.
Rest tired limbs;
the satisfying ache
of journey’s end –
at least for now.
Give thanks for those
who’ve walked with you,
and those you have
accompanied.
Tomorrow will bring more hours and challenges, but for now it’s Friday evening, and time to stop, take stop, and give thanks.
(04.04.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
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)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Kristina Flour on Unsplash
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
Ode for the Day 
