Sport

Poem 482 – Pètanque

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SMACK! Smashed gravel flies.
A shower of shards are scattered
as the boule descends.

Crashing into its target,
it sends it scything across
the crunching gravel court.

With pumping fists, the players
cheer, opponents groan,
their pole position lost.

One final fling, all hope
is pinned on nicking the nearest
boule placed by the jack.

A pause for silent prayer
before the bending player
looses their last chance…

Today we spent a lovely sunny time with friends, culminating in a tight hand of petanque. We lost, joy won.
(11.04.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Caroline Hernandez on Unsplash

Poem 450 – But I Did

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I didn’t mean to visit the shop
I didn’t mean to go inside
I didn’t mean to check the prices
I didn’t mean to try for size
I didn’t mean to chat to the attendant
I didn’t mean to ask for advice
I didn’t mean to search reviews
I didn’t mean to buy a bike…

Our local bike shop is closing down, and it would have been rude not to. I shall miss them, they’ve been very helpful over the last few years.
(10.03.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Wayne Bishop on Unsplash

Poem 447 – Bike Free

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Pedalling smoothly, my wheels begin to pur,
a low contented growl from spinning cranks.
My muscles sing. I playfully leap and bound.
I am transposed, at one with my bike, man
and machine conjoined to make the King of the Road.

The sun is out and I needed to make a visit to the local hospital, and so it seemed the perfect chance to take the bike for a spin. It felt good.
(07.03.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Josh Nuttall on Unsplash

Poem 421 – Fourth Round

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Here’s to the underdog,
For taking your chance,
For standing up straight,
And repelling the advance.
For keeping your heads,
Despite losing your teeth,
Miraculous saves,
As the fans start to scream.
Here’s to the underdog,
On overcoming the trial,
And ending on top,
The great Plymouth Argyle!

As a Liverpool fan, it pains me to say it, but hats off to Plymouth today – especially their two new defenders and goalkeeper who were brilliant. I loved the celebrations at every tackle made, it said a lot about the spirit that the new manager has brought to them.
(09.02.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Daniel Norin on Unsplash

Poem 387 – Wet Trousers

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The alarm went off this morning.
Outside it was dark, so dark,
I didn’t want to rise,
but had before I knew it.

I left the car at the garage.
Cycling was cold, so cold,
the tide mark rising up
dull chromatography.

The phone rang in the rain.
The call was hard, so hard.
May God’s peace match the puddles
permeating my pockets.

Once home I peeled the layers.
They’re dripping wet, so wet.
The garage rings, it’s ready –
I put them on again…

I had to take our car to the garage first things for it’s annual service. The snow and ice may have gone, but the weather was miserable. I still feel wet. The good news, however, was that there were no issues with the car at all.
(06.01.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Nicola Anderson on Unsplash

Poem 366 – Currently 2-0

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I should be writing a poem,
But it’s been a busy day,
Dealing with toddlers,
Shifting food,
Discussing the Bible,
Talking to church members,
Now the day’s done, and
Liverpool are beating Madrid,
So this will have to do.

Hopefully that’s game, set and match (to mix sports!)
(27.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Jannes Glas on Unsplash