Sport

Poem 983 – Life on Ice

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Life’s like ice skating
Sometimes it feels like you’re flying,
Moving so freely through the days
With effortless style and grace.

Other days you get caught in a rut,
Find yourself wobbling violently
Or crashing headlong into a barrier.
Sometimes it’s not even your fault (but sometimes it is!)

Both occur to all of us.
Be kind to yourself, don’t scream and rant.
Pick yourself up if you need to
And don’t hate the one who glides past – next time it may be you.

That snapshot, that moment in time
When you pull it off, or you fall in humiliation?
It is only that moment. It does not define
What came before or what happens next.

So don’t judge yourself or those surrounding you.
We are all Torvill and Dean sometimes
and for those who remember,
Todd Carty in Dancing on Ice…

Went ice skating today…
(25.08.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Library of Congress on Unsplash

Poem 942 – Did Will Play Football?

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After a meeting of minds
it seems the word on the street
is we’ve got the beating of them.
But here I sit conflicted
as on the final night
we’re visiting The Globe.
Can footie displace the Bard?
Can I follow the game on my phone?
Or wear an earbud to listen?
I’m sure the answer is no,
on each and every score –
pun definitely intended…
I’m hoping that the title
is not a sorry omen
it’s Love’s Labour’s Lost.

England play Argentina tonight in the World Cup semi-final. I’ve just realised that if they win the final is clashes with our trip to The Globe… Now there’s a quandary!
(15.07.36)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Hulki Okan Tabak on Unsplash

Poem 915 – Six Minutes

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Six minutes in, a penalty’s awarded!
A collective cheer and then the nation teeters,
Caught between the possibility
Of painful hope and previous could-have-beens.
An awkward miss, reminders of the past,
And here we go again. ‘So soon?’ we groan…
But VAR and trailing legs, a gift
of grace, and this time Kane dispatches it
And in that crazy moment England dreams.

Whilst writing this three more goals went in… Who knows how this will end.
(17.06.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by (Augustin-Foto) Jonas Augustin on Unsplash

Poem 850 – Just One Shot

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‘Let me show you how you do it’
he said taking the gun into
his tattooed arms. ‘Like this.’ He posed
making sure of our attention.

His body tensed and tattoos blocked
their ears. A pause. A shot. A miss.
A round of manly banter followed
whilst Kate quietly shoots and hits.

An enjoyable moment in today’s rifle shooting session.
(13.04.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 849 – Suspended

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I am that distant dot.
Up here the world is calm –
the turquoise sea is still
and all the globe is quiet.
Suspended up above
the angry clamour ceases:
perspective changes every-
thing. I long to stay.

In a fit of courage, I may have accidentally stepped off the edge of Babadag, 1800m up… Glorious!
(12.04.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 797 – Curling

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The stone’s released;
two staring eyes,
are fixed on the target.
I’m gripped by the drama,
ensnared by the tension,
and oscillating
advantage. It starts
to bend and curl
and turn until…
Crack! The perfect
ricochet.

I’ve never watched curling before tonight’s Olympic men’s semi-final between Great Britain and Switzerland. Totally transfixed by it.
(19.02.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Immo Wegmann on Unsplash