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
Tomorrow I’ll be
Dreaming of African skies
Remembering friends
Tomorrow I’m heading off to join friends in the Sierra Leone Mission to reflect on their vision for the future – brings back good memories.
(11.02.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
No headspace, heart space, creativity,
My debt has been called in. Today I’m done.
The bills have all been paid, I’m overdrawn,
But interest is paid in by the rising sun.
Today’s one of those days when life takes up all my capacity.
(12.01.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Museums Victoria on Unsplash
A card trick?
In front of a school of children?
What could possibly go wrong?
In fact it turns out quite a lot…
They say that if at first you don’t
succeed, that you should try, try, try
again? But after that? Press on?
Eventually it worked, I think,
a prize for my resilience but
I think they may have noticed…
And so I waved my magic wand
and wished myself away. Alas,
I failed to manage that as well!
Every year I do the school Christingle service on the last day of term. It has become a tradition that I do a Christmas magic trick. Usually it works…
(19.12.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Clifford Photography on Unsplash
Take:
A tumult of toddlers
A cacophony of carers
A muddle of mothers,
Disappearance of dads
A greatness of grandparents
A legend of leaders*
A twinkle of stars
And a riot of rhymes.
Mix to taste.
A collective Toddler Christmas party
*Apart from the poet!
It was the glorious madness of our toddler group Christmas party today. Great fun, as always.
(17.12.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by leoni fleming on Unsplash
Drafting grant applications,
I find I’m spewing word,
after word, after word, until
the screen is full of letters.
They blur into a splurge
of unattractive text,
a monolith of blackness.
I need to slash the text,
reduce the count and find
a way to make it more
succinct, engaging. I wonder,
should I try poetry
instead of prose? Or should
I go full Bob and simply
scrawl, ‘GIVE US YER MONEY!’
Following on from yesterday’s poem, on top of seasonal activity, I’m also writing grant applications for our church redevelopment project.
(26.11.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Glen Carrie on Unsplash
So many tasks and services,
completing them is a constant doubt,
I’m caught between an anguished shriek,
and a merry dance and joyful shout.
And yet I love this time of year,
I love the reason for its cheer,
the coming birth of Jesus Christ,
Immanuel, God’s Son with us.
His birth that night in Bethlehem,
to a teenage mum and carpenter dad,
accompanied by the angels and
glad shepherds who to the manger ran.
What is the reason for their rush?
That Christ had come for the likes of us,
no, not just kings but everyone,
Love lifting us to the Holy One.
I’ll take a breath and dive on in,
I’ll give my all to follow him,
what else is there for me to do,
for him who lived for me and you?
And so I lift my voice and sing,
One month to go! One month for Him!
Whilst working tonight on grant applications for our church redevelopment project and various Christmas preparations, I noticed the date. Perhaps the rhyme makes it a bit twee, but cut me some slack, with one month to go, there’s a lot on my plate!
(25.11.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Árni Svanur Daníelsson on Unsplash
The preacher’s task is wrapped in mystery.
At first it seems straight forward, simple, but
On this familiarity there falls
A veil that covers what was clear before.
Then we are left to wrestle for the heart,
To twist and turn until we’re spinning, lost
Under the many layers of meaning,
And there we’re called to stay until we’re found.
Sometimes epiphany is hard to win.
We fight into the night and drag it out,
With courage bravely born of hope, refusing
To settle for another easy road.
At other times we turn to write but even
Before the pen is in our hands, the words
Become alive, a pulse that drives them fast,
A living stream that flows out of the book.
I’ve spent the decades preaching, and even now I find it an exciting yet elusive art.
(21.11.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Chris Chow on Unsplash
Deadlines demand
A dedicated drive
A do or die
To get them done
Today I’ve driven
My head ducked down
And I’ve not died
I think they’re done
Lots to get done today before the day was out.
(03.11.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Markus Winkler on Unsplash
The deed is done,
the audience won, I hope,
the words delivered
without a stumble,
(well just a little one
when I became distracted).
And now I’ll sleep with thoughts
of friends and family in Him.
It wasn’t good enough,
it never is, and nor am I,
but He is all we need.
For the second year running I ended up stepping into the gap when a speaker couldn’t make it to our annual Conference. A late night scrawling turned into a poetry gig with a message – a first public ‘reading’ of my poetry.
(28.10.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Ode for the Day 