Poem 336 – Completed

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The exhalation as shoulders relax,
Quiet satisfaction from being spent.

A sense of peace from a task discharged
Being completed when at last the job’s done.

Embracing the tiredness when you finally stop,
And finding sleep when the dark night comes.

If you’ve been following my poems, you’ll be aware that I’ve done a few on the Countess of Huntingdon recently. I’ve been reading up on her, in order to give a talk on her legacy for our ‘denomination’. Today was the day, and it went well. It’s good to have it done.
(28.10.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Anna Pascale on Unsplash

Poem 335 – Helpless

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In the corner of my eye
the phone flashes
urgently. But why?
Why are they calling?
I can’t answer now,
they know I’m at work.

But why are they calling?
Has something happened?
Is that why they’re
calling? A thousand
permutations present themselves
but I still can’t answer.

I’ll have to get someone
else to answer
while I press on
with the task in hand.
I pretend to work,
time on hold.

I was in the middle of leading a song at church when I spotted my phone was ringing… It turns out there had been an accident at home, but thankfully, all was ok in the end.
(27.10.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Oliur on Unsplash

Poem 334 – A Life Given

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‘O that I may be
more and more useful
to the souls of my fellow creatures.

I want to be every moment
all life, all zeal, all activity
for God, and ever on the stretch
for closer communion with him.’

A life poured out fully.
Every single
last
drop.

On Monday I’m giving a talk at The Connexion conference on Selina, the Countess of Huntingdon. In my preparation I’ve been struck and struck again by the way she dedicated her whole life to her work. The two opening stanzas are her own words.

See also Poem 327.
(26.10.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Portrait by John Russell, used with permission of Trustees of the Cheshunt Foundation, Westminster College, Cambridge.

Poem 333 – If Only

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If only could go back and remix my life
so that it sounded like it was always meant to.
I could boost the passion, dial back the doubts,
urge myself forwards, embrace life more deeply.

I remember one quip in the playground, spoken
in haste and forty years on I still regret it.
Perhaps I could bring it down in the mix, so quiet
its shame is no longer heard, its punch not felt.

A pause could be inserted, allowing me
to think before I wrote that thoughtless letter.
The words were driven by the selfish moment,
and didn’t really reflect my ongoing feeling.

I’d certainly turn up my decisions for you, get out
out of my comfort zone, increase the effort.
In hindsight the focus needs to be shifted, like all
guitarists I tend to make it all about me.

Queen have been the soundtrack to much of my life. They’re about to release a remix of their debut album, to make it sound as they always wanted it to at the time. Made me wonder what else we could remix to make it sound as we’d meant it to.
(25.10.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Joel Chavarría on Unsplash

Poem 332 – Dynamo Hands

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Today I’ve been
trying to power
through my work,
typing for hours.

The outcome? Just under
2,000 strides, and
two square eyes,
and too many slides.

No power walk
but I wonder if
I could plug my fingers
into the grid!

It’s a big week workwise for me next week, as I’m giving a talk at our church movement’s conference, as well as other content. This means it’s heads down right now to get everything done.
(24.10.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Brad Neathery on Unsplash

Poem 331 – Don’t Judge a Book By Its Cover

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My grandmother gave me the tales of Robin Hood;
it’s still safe on my bedroom shelf.
I had to stop it from being thrown away
and cried when Robin shot his final arrow.

It’s still safe on my bedroom shelf,
this small green book that appears nondescript and harmless.
I cried when Robin shot his final arrow
but I suspect others wouldn’t give it a second look.

This small green book appears nondescript and harmless,
but it’s always been a foundational story for me.
I suspect others wouldn’t give it a second look,
but it has subtly shaped the way I see the world.

It’s always been a foundational story for me,
I had to stop it from being thrown away.
My grandmother shaped the way I see the world,
through giving me the tales of Robin Hood.

Inspired by Pádraig Ó Tuama, I decided to try another pantoum, a poem made up of right lines repeated with a strict pattern. The lines can be tweaked to make them flow better.
(23.10.24)

© Ben Quant 2024

Poem 329 – Until

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The dying light briefly tinges treetops
with a bronze flourish, a terracotta tone,
suggestive of the summer past. Catching
the yellow leaves, it hints of a reprieve.

It is, however, only momentary,
a briefest farewell kiss before departure,
a passing gesture to sustain us through
the coming darkness, until Spring’s dawn.

Looking out of my window this evening, the sky turned the objects a slightly otherworldly colour tonight, just before darkness descended. A companion piece to yesterday’s poem.
(20.10.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Uta Scholl on Unsplash

Poem 327 – Selina

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For such a time as this
a woman placed perfectly
within the social web.

Restricted by her sex
but bold in faith and hope,
she rejected expectation.

Ensnared by Love she weaved
compassionately a net
to catch her wary peers.

With tea and conversation
she welcomed with her chaplain
noble and politician.

Meanwhile the miner, unschooled
children, the poor and sick,
also received her care.

And as this web was woven
a grace filled spell was cast
entrancing church and country.

I’ve been reading up on the finder of our church’s movement, Selina, the Countess of Huntingdon. What a remarkable woman, to me, the Esther of her age. She deserves to be remembered so much more than she is – and a better ode than this!
(19.10.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo: Selina Hastings, Countess of Huntingdon by Unknown artist oil on card, circa 1770 NPG 4224 © National Portrait Gallery, London. Used with permission.