The quiet satisfaction
Of getting to the weekend,
Resting weary feet whilst
Looking back to see
The path that we have travelled,
Surveying with satisfaction
The turnings we have taken,
And admiring once again
The views and scenery.
This may turn out to be a significant week at work.
(20.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Ran Berkovich on Unsplash
Today like Moses I parted the sea
Only, it wasn’t water instead waves of grass
And I struck not a staff but shunted a mower
No horses drowned although grasshoppers jumped
and I didn’t reach Canaan just the end of the green
We gathered just as he had told us to.
It was nine o’clock, although you wouldn’t
know it from the crowds outside our room.
Within, rising anticipation could
be felt. We kept ourselves apart ’til ‘BOOM!’
a violent storm exploded nationhood –
look, tongues of fire descending on our heads,
folk hearing in their tongues the words we said.
‘They’re drunk!’ they cried, responding to our joy;
a joy that bubbled up from deep inside,
erupting in this giggling, gushing, noise.
At once impulsive Peter stood inspired,
declaring that it was the Spirit, employed
by Jesus Christ against whom they conspired.
His message cut them to their very hearts,
sundering Babel’s legacy apart.
It’s Pentecost today, the day the church celebrates the events of Acts 2, the giving of the Spirit and the birth of the church. Thought I’d try doing another ottava rima (see 578). Need to keep working on rhyme, it still feels contrived, but I’ll get there…
(08.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Cullan Smith on Unsplash
Remember Moses met God in a burning bush?
Today I moved two blueberry bushes in
the rain, not really the same, and yet within
the falling drops I heard his jovial patter.
His words were splashing colour everywhere,
flowing down my collar and into my socks,
a rhythmic splatter announcing, ‘LET THERE BE!’
Inspired by collecting blueberry bushes in the rain from a local allotment.
(05.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Mario Mendez on Unsplash
Slowly we alight the sudden hill,
peeling back time as we ascend,
and as we do the Red Arrows fly by,
roaring past in perfect V formation.
They feel incongruous.
Timeless, above us all the cathedral reaches,
Imposing in its majesty it flies,
sundering our sense of time and scale.
Looking up, I lose identity,
and teetter on the edge of consciousness.
But even this transcendent edifice
is left behind. Upon its parapets
a peregrine perches, impervious to our whims.
Stretching, it commands the attention of
the distant minions gathering down beneath.
Meanwhile, one like a son of man ascends.
Upon the clouds he climbs to heaven’s throne,
and there, upon his head, the Ancient One
bestows an eternal crown and with it all glory
majesty and power for evermore!
We spent Ascension Day in Lincoln, where much to my delight we spotted peregrine falcons perched upon the cathedral. A truly awesome sight.
(29.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Rory Tucker on Unsplash
Rush hour, Monday morning, the crowded Tube,
the regular array of faces, usual places.
The suits eyes down in laptops, youth on phones,
a clutch of builders, bags of tools and coffee. Respectable, routine, their faces reflect
mine as they catch up on the sports pages.
The searing shriek of metal splits the scene,
which sunders, superimposing a previous day.
Arms outstretched their conductor waves his hands. Under his spell the crowd begin to jump,
a victory song that swells in violent time,
until the carriage starts to sway along.
Fearfully I watch, shrinking, isolated,
no badge of loyalty, no strip, no colours.
They are not me, but shuddering between
I see my face reflected in the crowd.
I saw The Crucible on Saturday. That and a TV drama I’ve been watching has got me thinking of crowd mentality and an incident on a train I once experienced.
(20.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Oleg Sergeichik on Unsplash
Between faith and doubt there lives a tension
that neither pulls towards belief or tugs
towards betrayal. It sits in hesitation.
The story that you tell me calls for action,
begat the growing urge to spring to help,
but something in my bones warns me to hold.
I stand, suspended; caught between the move
to love and the opposing withdrawal of suspicion. I’m trapped, arrested in dissatisfaction.
I’ve had a couple of calls from someone seeking help. They might be genuine, but I find myself hesitating. This sits uneasy with me.
(19.05.25)
Like Race Around the World,
we’re traveling through life,
adopting different speeds,
and taking different routes.
Each life that’s lived’s unique,
a one off gift of time,
blending both choice and chance,
making us who we are.
The victory I’ve found
is not in these but those;
in those with whom I’ve travelled,
and those I’ve loved and served.
Tonight Alpha met Race Around the World.
(15.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Nejc Soklič on Unsplash
Trapped behind the bricks,
I’m caught amongst the ashes,
left flapping in the dark.
This fall was not intended,
I but I couldn’t stop myself,
from descending in the dark.
Unable to escape, with
no space to find my way,
or spread my wings and fly,
I’m left in desperation,
increasingly bewildered,
blinded, lost, exhausted.
Below a light appears,
its grasping fingers reach,
in beckoning invitation.
I panic, torn between
the comfort of the known,
and fearful possibility.
This morning started with a futile attempt to rescue a starling from our chimney.
(13.05.25)
Two arms outstretched can
Forge reconciliation
And build new friendships
It’s been a day of working on relationships.
(09.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Ode for the Day 