Tonight I lie to sleep in my parents’ house
having defeated the attempts of the sofa bed
to prevent me from doing this horizontally.
Head bolt upright? I don’t think so! Neither
my feet to the floor. In increasingly frenzied moves
our engagement played out, a midnight wrestling bout,
featuring twisted limbs, contorted faces,
until at last, it finally yielded its secrets.
Just wrestling in a poem before midnight…
(05.10.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Krista Mangulsone on Unsplash
Today we made it
Our jail we escaped it
Our puzzles’ completed
Mystery defeated
Where once confounded
Our lives now unbounded
We live now to take on
Another new day
I put together an escape room for our church harvest social tonight. They did really well and made it to the other side!
(04.10.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Mohamed Marey on Unsplash
Off to roll some dice
To lose at every boardgame
But have lots of fun!
Making space for fun
(03.10.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Madeline Liu on Unsplash
Blessed are the poets, those
Committed to verse not violence.
Blessed are the sonnet seekers,
The writers of limericks not slander.
Blessed are the hawkers of haikus
Over the dealers in harassment.
Blessed are the simile speakers,
The makers of metaphor not meanness.
Blessed are the rhymers, rhythm
Keepers, word smiths, dreamers, rappers,
Revealers of a world unseen.
Blessed are the poets.
Written on National Poetry Day, on a day of war in Gaza and Ukraine and an attack on a synagogue in Manchester, whilst the far right rises, and power seeking populists posture. Longing for a better world.
(02.10.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Trust “Tru” Katsande on Unsplash
You helped us look into their eyes
And see ourselves reflected there,
As kindred spirits, a common gaze
That arcs across the DNA.
And through your long and patient study
We saw the nuance of their lives,
From using tools and forging bonds,
To waging war and playing games.
We learnt with you that we are not
As alone as once we thought we were,
And heard the call to extend our care
To these our long lost sisters, brothers.
I’m saddened to hear of the death of Dame Jane Goodall, such a significant scientist and advocate for the protection of our fellow creatures.
(01.10.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Ryan Al Bishri on Unsplash
Parted by the miles
Frustrated by the distance
Can love leap the gap
Facing the challenge of being there.
(30.09.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Micah & Sammie Chaffin on Unsplash
The day is done
My time has gone
To write a rhyme
That is much long-
er than this one
I’ve run out of day…
(29.09.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Mubashir Ahmad on Unsplash
Beware! Bare flesh and filthy language lie
ahead. Hold firm if frightened of loud bangs.
Take notice, sexual naughtiness in store.
Greek legends clash in hungry rival gangs.
The author of this violent, grim discourse?
None other than the English Bard of course.
Written in response to the warnings by the stage door at The Globe for Troilus and Cressida tonight.
(28.09.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Bespectacled and precariously perched upon a branch,
he sits and waits until it’s time. Skillfully
striking, he winds his prey to shore then flaps
away, a lumbering flight of bone and grey.
On an afternoon walk today we realised a heron, a bird that always demands attention.
(27.09.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Patrice Bouchard on Unsplash
I met him in a queue once
a line inside a theatre
a few snatched words thats all
and yet he diagnosed me.
A handful of lyrics paired with
a simple tune – that’s all
it took to bypass my
defences, strike the mark.
My voice broke long ago
so why do I now hear
a creaking in my song as
I sing along this morning.
I’ve been enjoying the latest Divine Comedy album ‘Rainy Sunday Afternoon’ this week. I sense that he and I are hitting similar life stages right now.
(26.09.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Ode for the Day 