A photo taken at high speed,
I find myself a smeared shadow.
Caught in the instant, its movement is
uncertain, full of the tension found
between two possibilities.
This indecisive Schrödinger moment,
leaves its unseen plotlines hanging.
An odd day today. Between things.
(27.05.25)
The simple joy
of waking up,
remembering,
then going back
to sleep.
It’s always nice having a day off after a Sunday!
(26.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Kate Stone Matheson on Unsplash
From one giant to another,
colossi in defence,
composed and fleet of foot,
poetic in elegance.
Well versed in form and motion,
bewitching with their rhyme,
possessing the canny knack,
of arriving just in time.
These masters of their art,
one hand on either handle,
bridging generations,
the passing of the mantle.
Liverpool FC were awarded the Premier League Trophy today, with a hero of my childhood, Alan Hansen, passing the trophy to Virgil van Dijk, a hero of today.
(25.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Source of photo unknown
Trying to impose
Order despite the ingrained
Habits of the world
Doing the chores
(24.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Immo Wegmann on Unsplash
On your marks…. Go!
So off we went, a drumming
river flowing round
the field in endless circles.
Some formed gentle eddies,
whilst others became torrents,
crashing waters surging
forwards with urgency.
Let’s run with zest the Head
had said and so we did,
with cheers and tears and joy,
remembering why we ran.
We poured until our muscles
ached and lungs were spent,
then flung ourselves upon
the shore in celebration.
I joined a local primary school for their annual run to remember a further student who sadly passed away. As always the pupils and community were great.
(23.05.25)
It’s nine o’clock and so
Creation’s curtains close,
drawn by a flock of starlings
heading home to bed.
Every night, as regular as clockwork!
(22.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash
Totally crashed out
and basking in the sun,
Reynard relaxes beneath
its golden smile and grins;
his snout become a mirror.
A fox has taken to lying at the end of our garden. Yesterday he was so relaxed I was worried for a moment until his snout twitched.
(21.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Dušan veverkolog on Unsplash
Rush hour, Monday morning, the crowded Tube,
the regular array of faces, usual places.
The suits eyes down in laptops, youth on phones,
a clutch of builders, bags of tools and coffee. Respectable, routine, their faces reflect
mine as they catch up on the sports pages.
The searing shriek of metal splits the scene,
which sunders, superimposing a previous day.
Arms outstretched their conductor waves his hands. Under his spell the crowd begin to jump,
a victory song that swells in violent time,
until the carriage starts to sway along.
Fearfully I watch, shrinking, isolated,
no badge of loyalty, no strip, no colours.
They are not me, but shuddering between
I see my face reflected in the crowd.
I saw The Crucible on Saturday. That and a TV drama I’ve been watching has got me thinking of crowd mentality and an incident on a train I once experienced.
(20.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Oleg Sergeichik on Unsplash
Between faith and doubt there lives a tension
that neither pulls towards belief or tugs
towards betrayal. It sits in hesitation.
The story that you tell me calls for action,
begat the growing urge to spring to help,
but something in my bones warns me to hold.
I stand, suspended; caught between the move
to love and the opposing withdrawal of suspicion. I’m trapped, arrested in dissatisfaction.
I’ve had a couple of calls from someone seeking help. They might be genuine, but I find myself hesitating. This sits uneasy with me.
(19.05.25)
A lawn of lions,
Their golden manes
Bobbing brightly
Under the Sun.
NoMowMay has produced a beautiful display of dandelions.
(18.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Nikša Leko on Unsplash
