From church to Traitors
Sublime to ridiculous
In just one evening
My evening!
(08.10.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Spirituality
Poem 657 -Blessed are the Poets
Blessed are the poets, those
Committed to verse not violence.
Blessed are the sonnet seekers,
The writers of limericks not slander.
Blessed are the hawkers of haikus
Over the dealers in harassment.
Blessed are the simile speakers,
The makers of metaphor not meanness.
Blessed are the rhymers, rhythm
Keepers, word smiths, dreamers, rappers,
Revealers of a world unseen.
Blessed are the poets.
Written on National Poetry Day, on a day of war in Gaza and Ukraine and an attack on a synagogue in Manchester, whilst the far right rises, and power seeking populists posture. Longing for a better world.
(02.10.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Trust “Tru” Katsande on Unsplash
Poem 649 – Impossible Tightrope?
Attempting to both
Move into the neighbourhood
And be a pilgrim
Walking the tension
Between putting down deep roots
And living lightly
Trying to invest
In other people whilst not
Losing his footsteps
I’m currently reading Joanne Harris’ new book Vianne, which explores the risk of losing freedom by putting down roots, and in so doing captures the tension as some Christians present it between being ‘in this world but not of it’.
(24.09.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Poem 647 – Embracing Awkwardness
The respectful awkwardness
When something is said that everyone
Disagrees with and yet
The decision has been made
That all are welcome here.
The love that says we’ll hear
Your views and not dismiss
You or your right to speak
Because we value you
And therefore what you say.
The tension that we live with
Because we are a family
And that’s what families do
As relationships are more
Important than being right.
I love watching groups embracing awkwardness instead of insisting on their own interpretation, political view or doctrine.
(22.09.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Kenny Eliason on Unsplash
Poem 645 – Come and Rest
Sometimes, it’s good to stop and while away
some time in nothing’s welcome hands and rest,
to idle like a river at the behest
of no one but the lazy flow, and play
in gentle eddies, splashing like a child.
These leisurely delights appear so mild,
belying the strength that lies beneath the surface,
accumulated over years of mirth,
as our habitual sabbath play gives guile
to stand despite the force of whim and toil.
This rhythmic life provides enriching soil,
the necessary nutrients for growth,
sink in your roots and deeply drink to clothe
yourselves with crowning leaves and trunk, a royal
oak. Come rest and leave behind the fray.
Reading Edith Wharton’s poem’ Elegy’, I thought I’d try and write something that used the same rhyming form. After another busy week, something on rest seemed appropriate.
(20.09.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Jeffrey Hamilton on Unsplash
Poem 639 – Where’s My Brolly?
Yesterday it rained,
Today it’s raining,
I feel responsible…
Tomorrow’s assembly?
Noah and the Ark.
It’s damp outside…
(14.09.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Jose Fontano on Unsplash
Poem 638 – Cycling in the Rain
Back at the very start,
The rain no longer matters.
I smile because the miles
Are done, the hills are past,
The churches all ticked off.
Somehow, the heavens opening
Seems appropriate.
I jump for joy in puddles
Thinking, there should be
A lamppost standing by,
For me to dance around.
I took part in the Bike ‘n’ Hike today, raising funds to maintain local historic churches. 24 churches visited over 34 miles, over 2.5 hours on the move. I’m out of practice, the legs turned to jelly after a bit, but thoroughly enjoyed myself.
(13.09.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Poem 634 – Redeveloping Faith
Another grant sought
Moving forward step by step
Believing in God
Another busy day seeking grants for the church redevelopment project: https://wormleyfreechurch.org.uk/redevelopment-project/
(09.09.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Poems 629 – Action Hero Gospel
Opening the cover marks the start
Of an adventure into the unknown.
Who knows what waits between its sheets?
Entire countries lie within.
Like contour lines the black and white
Align to mark its ups and downs.
The turns and bends we find therein,
Those tricky twists, guide and surprise us.
The pace leaves us breathless in wonder
We struggle to keep up with the action.
Turning the page, we find that Christ
Has roared on to the next horizon.
We started a series of evenings tonight exploring Mark’s Gospel with a group of church-goers and non-church-goers. A great conversation with valuable insights from everyone.
(04.09.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Ales Krivec on Unsplash
Poem 623 – Trapped
The sound invades the street, a bitter echo.
Its chants catch in my clothes and tangle
in my hair, the hatred harries me
along the street. I feel defiled and lost.
Dislocated, this isn’t the home I knew.
I want to wash my hands of it with tears,
to wash away the anger and the fear,
but Pilate comes to mind disowning Christ.
Like him I long to act, to turn the tide
to shout a better case, scrub it away,
adorn the posts with love and streets with welcome,
but what to do that will not make it worse?
Walking past, am I guilty of collusion?
Like him I’m helpless, caught in indecision.
Tonight we walked past the growing protests outside a local hotel used to house asylum seekers. I long to get across that this isn’t how everyone feels, how I feel, but how to do this constructively?
(29.08.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Sean Horsburgh on Unsplash
