Travel

Poem 885 – The Rollercoaster

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It’s not the ride but the wait,
the mounting anticipation
that builds adrenaline,
the queue that snakes beneath
the rising ride. It twists
then plunges. You duck,
knowing you’re safe but
just in case. ‘What if?…’
you wonder, then try to thrust
the thought away. Some shriek,
excitedly, showing off
their fear, whilst others stand
in silence, trying to
contain it. And then the gates.
A moment’s bracing then
release, a screaming release,
a rattling, rolling, tumbling
release of laughter, joy,
so utterly alive!

From the smallest to the largest, today we’ve packed them in.
(18.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash

Poem 870 – Headlights

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This tunnel through the spongy dark
reveals a flattened hazy realm.
The light is fuzzy, indistinct, and
sudden peripheral interruptions
sharply protrude from either flank.
Beyond remains alert, unknown.
I drive on through this foreign land
aware that I’m intruding here.
The halo follows me but as
we move the blackness rushes in,
devouring what is left behind.
I am an island in the night
fearful of moving fast and worried
of what might happen if I stop.

I drove up to my Dad tonight. The last miles are across country, down unlight country roads, which in the dark begins strangely sentient.
(03.05.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Philipp Katzenberger on Unsplash

Poem 867 – Lines

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Our yellow lines have been redone, under
the sun they shout, ‘No parking here, be gone!’
Their sleek crisp lines are unambiguous,
there is no missing their bold and muscular message
of ‘Tarry not!’ But yet their streaks are tarnished, obstructed by the tyres of cars ironically
parked with flashing lights that they believe
confer immunity. They are line blind.

Passed newly painted yellow lines in the way to school this morning, glowing on the summer sun. Cars all over them.
(30.04.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by the blowup on Unsplash

Poem 858 – The Itch

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Today I’m feeling the itch
Of foreign shores and shoes
The land and lives of others
The words of truth untold

Horizons far and strange
Sad songs as yet unheard
Wierd customs old and alien
Tongues of curious words

Strange tastes I have not tasted
Odd tales I do not know
The whiff of exotic spices
Tastes of a wondrous world

Watching Race Around The World with memories of Türkiye still fresh, I want to get on the road again!
(21.04.26)

© 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 846 – Kayaköy Blooms

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Kayaköy, your bleached stones bloom before me.
Mourning your children snatched before their time,
your silent wailing groans throughout your homes,
echoes disturbing graves and gathered grime.

But even as these tears descend there’s hope:
chaffinches become redemption’s raucous choir
and nature’s tendrils reach around each stone,
their blooms compose a far more cheerful flower.

We hiked back to revisit Kayaköy having been there a few years back. A place of terrible atrocities which is gradually being taken over by an abundance of wildlife.
(09.04.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 790 – En Route

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Gridlocked motorways
Stormy weather past Stonehenge
Winding country lanes

Praying the roads are clear
Dodging pot holes and branches
Don’t make me reverse!

Battery running low
Hoping that the charger works…
Big sighs of relief!

Helping lead a retreat for the Sierra Leone Mission today meant a long and early motorway drive to just beyond Exeter.
(12.02.26)

© Ben Quant 2026