Work

Abracadabra?

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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

Collective Nouns for a Toddlers’ Party

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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

Grant Writing

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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

One Month to Go (A Minister’s Predicament)

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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

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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

Poem 417 – It Is Finished

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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

Poem 411 – As One

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Making contact when conversation
doesn’t work, when words are sounds
that don’t come back, a look remains
ambiguous, devoid of meaning.

The simple joy of nursery rhymes
sung in a circle, face to face,
that bridge the gap, enliven souls,
provoke a smile and joining in.

The thrill of holding toddlers in the
palm of your hands, provoking laughter,
and drawing those who played apart
together into unison.

One of the joys of my week is doing time at Toddlers. It’s a magic moment when we caught up together as one.
(22.10.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash

Poem 722 – They Said Yes

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After a morning when I couldn’t settle,
When all I could do was repeatedly check the emails
And then check them again to just make sure,
The email finally dropped. I stopped. My breath,
My heart, ability to think, all paused.
I clicked, the message popped, and for a moment
The letters blurred and swam upon the screen. Until they coalesced, a great big yes.
I screamed.

Following on for yesterday’s poem, the message I was waiting for was wonderfully good news! A grant we had applied to was awarded. So pleased.
(18.10.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Vitaly Gariev on Unsplash