Poem 652 – An Ode to the A303

A303 (and associated roads),
nothing else can match your timeless reach!
Neighbouring Stonehenge has mystified us,
entranced us for millennia,
but even it pales into insignificance
compared to your majestic tarmac track.

We happily travel miles to congregate,
line up like creeping snakes to see your span.
Meditating for hours in your presence,
we while away the hours in wordless wonder,
as time stands still, as do we too, in cars
that queue for hours and hours and hours and hours…

The journey home from holiday in Devon today was not the quickest…
(09.08.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Ana Paula Grimaldi on Unsplash

Poem 648 – Bideford

The sound of seagulls, coastal breeze,
a solace from the daily scene.
Here Tarka swims tugged by the tide
beneath the ancient long bridge wide,
and water babies also dive
deep waters, seeking Westward Ho!
But sadly three became undone,
three daughters died, for witchcraft hung.
But now, where rope makers wove their wares,
the sun shines down shedding our cares.

We arrived in Bideford today, a fascinating town with a tapestry of literary and historical connections.
(05 08.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 639 – At the Service Station

Transient people on the
move exchanging places.
Babies over parents’
shoulders, bleary faces.
Food you’d never normally
buy, inflated prices.
Nicknack stalls and wonky
stacks of bright suitcases.
Warning by the loos
attendants of both sexes.
Children bribed with chocolate,
caffeine shots ingested.

Stopped at the M4 services on the way to Bristol today.
(27.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Gerardo Bonifacio on Unsplash

Poem 616 – When I Was In Morocco

‘When I was in Morocco’,
You’ve often heard me start,
Recalling long ago,
My adventures of the past.

I haggled in the souk,
Swapped tales in Marrakesh,
I walked forgotten routes,
Put physics to the test.

I fought with crazy gangsters,
Chased Nazis on train tops,
Sought fabled ancient treasures
And secrets time had lost.

I faced my deepest fears,
In pits of writhing snakes,
And crossed  precarious wings
On acrobatic planes.

I navigated maps,
Acquired through games of chance,
Survived the booby traps
And puzzles of the past.

But now I’m getting old,
I’m told those days are gone,
But in memories I’m still bold,
And in dreams, they still live on.

Watching the final Indiana Jones film tonight, it merged with my father’s ‘infamous’ stories of his time in Morocco.
(05.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 602 – Driving in the Sun

Driving home today,
my brain has turned to mush,
I’ll be hard pushed to say
anything that makes sense.

The Sun did not relent,
remaining loud, despite
the cloud, that meant it was
not quite as hot as thought.

I’m writing as I ought,
but nothing much profound
is found, within my head,
for me to say today.

And so I think I’ll stop
and sleep the night away.

It wasn’t as hot as we thought it might be today, but driving home from visiting family frazzled me somewhat nevertheless.
(21.06.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Rajiv Bajaj on Unsplash

Poem 518 – Boundary Market

A cacophony of smells assaults me,
seducing me with savoury scents.
Fresh cheeses pair with delicate herbs,
sitting by artisan breads and rolls.
Pies with flavours strange and familiar,
entice in rows of crisp gold cases.
Strawberries sell by cups or punnet,
(chocolate sauce is optional).
A brazen rainbow envelops me,
its racks of exotic, colourful fruits
transport me to a foreign land.
Within these streets life is compressed,
our bodies densely stirred together,
a heady cocktail of taste and language.

We were in London today for a show at The Globe today. Arriving early we wandered over to Borough Market, a first time for me.
(17.05.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Taylor Keeran on Unsplash

Poem 516 – The Race of Life

Like Race Around the World,
we’re traveling through life,
adopting different speeds,
and taking different routes.
Each life that’s lived’s unique,
a one off gift of time,
blending both choice and chance,
making us who we are.
The victory I’ve found
is not in these but those;
in those with whom I’ve travelled,
and those I’ve loved and served.

Tonight Alpha met Race Around the World.
(15.05.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Nejc Soklič on Unsplash

Poem 509 – Travelling Backwards

Today I’m travelling backwards
Facing the wrong way around
Reversing to Cambridge by train

The present flees before me
Doppler effect in years
Returning to my home

Revisiting forgotten passions
Middle age flies by
Resurfacing our childhood

Trips to Cambridge always make me nostalgic. Aging does that too.
(08.05.25)

© Ben Quant 2025