Poem 657 -Blessed are the Poets

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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

Poem 656 – Jane Goodall

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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

Poem 653 – Beware!

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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

Poem 651 – Heart Surgery

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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

Poem 650 – Truth

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A hidden beauty disguised beneath
time’s veil, erosion and graffitti,
tucked behind irrational fear and
under hope’s blind shadow sat.

Hatred rails against it, whilst
vainglorious proclamation rants,
but come what may, in quiet
stillness, unmoved and firm it stands.

But just because we wish its change
and close our eyes, place fingers into
ears and make such childish noises,
there is no metamorphosis.

And from its judgement seat the truth
returns our judgement back on us
and casts its verdict cold and clear,
untouched by lies and ignorance.

A response to recent assertions in the public arena.
(25.09.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Hennie Stander on Unsplash

Poem 649 – Impossible Tightrope?

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Attempting to both
Move into the neighbourhood
And be a pilgrim

Walking the tension
Between putting down deep roots
And living lightly

Trying to invest
In other people whilst not
Losing his footsteps

I’m currently reading Joanne Harris’ new book Vianne, which explores the risk of losing freedom by putting down roots, and in so doing captures the tension as some Christians present it between being ‘in this world but not of it’.
(24.09.25)

© Ben Quant 2025