Impossible odds.
Surely not? Maybe? Could they?
Yes! Yes! Oh! So close…
Breaking away from the starting line, Van der Poel was so close to staying away all the way to victory. Deserves a longer ode than I have time for today.
(14.07.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Ana Moreno on Unsplash
A clash of wheels and crash of bikes,
As cyclists slide and the peleton crumples.
Collarbones snap as bodies fly,
Time stands still while bike frames cartwheel.
The road fights back and tarmac argues,
Sharp gravel causes sparking metal.
A country stops and holds its breath
And anxious, waits for dust to settle.
Another gripping day in the Tour, but with a brutal crash.
(11.07.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Mathias Reding on Unsplash
More poems on le Tour you say?
It may have to wait another day.
It’s too hot you see, too hot for me,
I don’t know how they do it!
Relentless peddling in the heat
Remorselessly chasing as they compete
For the yellow jersey, at the end of the journey,
As only one can don it!
Yesterday’s poem provoked the comment that there should be more poems on the Tour de France. A silly response at the end of a hot day.
(10.07.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Christian Chrome on Unsplash
Djamolidine Abdoujaparov,
LeMond and Bernard Hinault,
Sean Kelly, Yates and Robert Miller,
Pantani, Eddy Merckx, Jens Voight
Mark Cavendish, Boardman, Stephen Roach,
Geriant Thomas, Thomas Voeckler,
Cipollini, Induráin,
These names are framed within my mind
True heroes of the peleton
Some of the cyclists on the Tour de France whose wonderful names and heroics will always remain with me.
(09.07.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Stefan Scheepmaker on Unsplash
Le Tour has started
With its spills and its thrills,
Broom wagons, bunch sprints,
Great rivalries, myths.
The peleton charges
For mile upon mile,
Up impossible climbs,
Down crazy descents.
And as a result
I’m somewhat distracted
When watching the highlights
This poem must stop.
My daily rhymes might become a little more perfunctory over the next few weeks…
(07.07.25)
Two impulse buys invited me to spend:
First up, a secondhand gold saxophone;
Second, running shoes, bright blue, not suede.
The running shoes were cheaper and so won.
I tried them out this lunchtime in the sun.
Putting them on reminded me of times
When I have run before; the burst of life
That it provides, the surging exhilaration.
A weightless circuit around the local lake,
Feet lifting lightly with the new shoe bounce.
And as I run I wonder if the sax
Would have been so easy. Still tempted though…
Two shopping options from our recent time away.
(02.06.25)
Seven years on
A return to the mountain
Back on the slopes with
A shot at redemption
A facing down demons
Of sapping defeat
The pedals are turned
The cycle’s complete.
After losing the Giro d’Italia on the slopes of the Colle delle Finestre in 2018, it was wonderful to see Simon Yates return victoriously today.
(31.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Munbaik Cycling Clothing on Unsplash
From one giant to another,
colossi in defence,
composed and fleet of foot,
poetic in elegance.
Well versed in form and motion,
bewitching with their rhyme,
possessing the canny knack,
of arriving just in time.
These masters of their art,
one hand on either handle,
bridging generations,
the passing of the mantle.
Liverpool FC were awarded the Premier League Trophy today, with a hero of my childhood, Alan Hansen, passing the trophy to Virgil van Dijk, a hero of today.
(25.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Source of photo unknown
On your marks…. Go!
So off we went, a drumming
river flowing round
the field in endless circles.
Some formed gentle eddies,
whilst others became torrents,
crashing waters surging
forwards with urgency.
Let’s run with zest the Head
had said and so we did,
with cheers and tears and joy,
remembering why we ran.
We poured until our muscles
ached and lungs were spent,
then flung ourselves upon
the shore in celebration.
I joined a local primary school for their annual run to remember a further student who sadly passed away. As always the pupils and community were great.
(23.05.25)
Ode for the Day 