Today like Moses I parted the sea
Only, it wasn’t water instead waves of grass
And I struck not a staff but shunted a mower
No horses drowned although grasshoppers jumped
and I didn’t reach Canaan just the end of the green
Poem 547 – p=mv
Sir Isaac Newton said momentum equals
an object’s mass times its velocity.
But where is time in that? Experience says
that time can have momentum, that driving force
that urges onwards, ever resolute.
Yesterday’s year becomes tomorrow’s week,
eighteen years a day, with time opposing
speed, becoming faster as I get slower.
We said farewell to a local minister today. It feels as if she’s just arrived, and yet it’s been 18 years. How does that work?
(15.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Ahmad Ossayli on Unsplash
Poem 546 – Summer Senses
It’s been a long hot summer’s day
and now the light’s beginning to fade;
we’ve flung the doors wide open to let
the evening breeze come in.
Its cool fingers tickle my toes
and gently blow along my legs.
The newborn apples dusted on
the tree begin to swell.
Outside a grasshopper is singing,
its serenade a tribute to
the passing day, as is the scent
of summer barbeques.
It’s been a hot, if blustery day after the rains of yesterday. Gradually summer is arriving.
(14.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Brian Garcia on Unsplash
Poem 545 – Conversation Café
An hour of conversation,
That reaches around the globe,
Transcending barriers of language,
And animosity shown.
Taking time to listen,
And talk about our lives,
Comparing holiday plans,
And things that make us thrive
A mutual love of camping,
Shared music of the soul,
A common concern for family,
One humanity unfolds.
Another Friday, another Conversation Café, our informal group for those with English as a second language. Use one of the highlights of my work.
(13.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Poem 544 – Poem 583 Revisited
Looked on eBay
There heard temptation’s echo
Bought a saxophone….
After being tempted by a sax in Lincoln, a bit of research turned up a bargain. I succumed.
(12.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Poem 543 – An Embarrassing Result at Ware Library Quiz
We arranged our raffle tickets
Upon the table top
To such surprise we found
We’d almost won the lot!
A true story from tonight’s competition!
(11.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Poem 542 – A Living Lawn
Alive!
Each step
Explodes
A swirling
Celebration
Of insects.
Having left the lawn to its own devices over May it’s full of grasshoppers and other insects.
(10.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Poem 541- New River Arms Reborn
A rotting ruin, the old pub stood abandoned,
the juke box quiet, regulars forgotten,
its skeleton a ghostly shell left stranded.
As weeds burst through clay tiles and chimney pots
it seemed as if this plot had no more planned
than this, but mother nature had allotted
her resources, and soon this dead corpse breathed
again with saplings, lake and thriving reeds.
The site of a former local pub is being transformed as nature has its way.
(09.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Poem 540 – Babel Reversed
We gathered just as he had told us to.
It was nine o’clock, although you wouldn’t
know it from the crowds outside our room.
Within, rising anticipation could
be felt. We kept ourselves apart ’til ‘BOOM!’
a violent storm exploded nationhood –
look, tongues of fire descending on our heads,
folk hearing in their tongues the words we said.
‘They’re drunk!’ they cried, responding to our joy;
a joy that bubbled up from deep inside,
erupting in this giggling, gushing, noise.
At once impulsive Peter stood inspired,
declaring that it was the Spirit, employed
by Jesus Christ against whom they conspired.
His message cut them to their very hearts,
sundering Babel’s legacy apart.
It’s Pentecost today, the day the church celebrates the events of Acts 2, the giving of the Spirit and the birth of the church. Thought I’d try doing another ottava rima (see 578). Need to keep working on rhyme, it still feels contrived, but I’ll get there…
(08.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Cullan Smith on Unsplash
Poem 539 – No Mow May Revisited
My mower has not seen the light of day
since April, the last time that the grass was trimmed,
and in its absence life’s had chance to play.
One look, you might decide the scene is grim,
but keep an open mind, once more survey –
the land’s awake to nature’s joyful hymn:
goldfinches seeking seeds as crickets sing,
and dandies dance before the bats take wing.
I thought I’d try a poem with an ottava rima rhyming form today (abababcc), and having been in the garden beforehand, this tumbled out.
(07.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Andrea Lightfoot on Unsplash
