I remember the cringiness
of watching parents dance.
Last night I realised
those dancers are now me.
At a party last night, I realised I’m not one of the ‘old’ people dancing…
(13.10.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Baptiste MEREL on Unsplash
Poem 320 – Next Time…
The annual attempt to represent
my life within the cellular confines
of an excel spreadsheet.
My comings in and goings out
laid down in stark columns of numbers
and totalled up for all to see.
It’s hard to get excited about
the number of cups of tea, and stamps,
and miles I have consumed.
And so as the deadline looms
I strain to recollect exactly
what I did a year ago.
There, it’s done. Click send and breathe.
Now it’s in the accountant’s hands.
Next time, I promise, I’ll do it earlier.
With the end of the tax year falling near Easter, despite good intentions, I never quite get around to filling in my tax returns when I know I should…
(12.10.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Olga DeLawrence on Unsplash
Poem 319 – Northern Lights
Last night the Northern Lights stepped out, came south,
a holiday for celestial phenomena,
illuminating skies with swirling swathes
of dancing reds and pinks and greens and yellows.
A one night only premier played out
to astonished audiences gazing upwards who,
gasping, reached for phones and cameras
to capture this extraordinary event.
It seems the entire country stood in rapture,
entire that is except for one, yes me.
I sat inside writing about heaven
oblivious to it prancing around my head.
As it says. Trust me to spend the one night they came my way inside writing sermons in blissful ignorance. Gutted.
(11.10.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Joshua Woroniecki on Unsplash
Poem 318 – Frustrated Dancer
The band begins and feet instinctively
tap and bodies sway, a growing wave.
A primal urge, born in us from before
our mothers wombs. The pulsing of our veins.
This beating echo of Eden’s first heart,
quickens to music’s resuscitating breath.
Frustratingly, as the crescendo starts to swell
the rhythm stumbles and dies in self-awareness.
I went to see Joker: Folie à Deux at the weekend. Reading the reviews, I think I must be one of the few that buck the trend. I loved it (I wonder if not seeing the original makes a difference?) The soundtrack has been stuck in my mind ever since, and its swing makes me wish I could dance.
(10.10.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Fabian Schneider on Unsplash
Poem 317 – Yesterday’s Mystery Visitor
I encountered a stormtrooper
standing at our food bank.
I wasn’t expecting that.
He stood expressionless as
they always seem to be.
Who knows what he was thinking.
Was he plucking up
the courage to ask for help?
It isn’t always easy.
Or was he on a fact
finding mission? A watching
brief to assess choices?
Perhaps he was simply lost.
Again, that’s not unusual,
but I’m not so sure.
I didn’t know what to
say and so I asked
if I could take a selfie.
I’d like to think he smiled
under his helmet. At least
he didn’t shoot me back.
It’s a long story…
(09.10.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Poem 316 – Raindrops
Bulbous bombs of water
explode on contact with
the ground, or windows, or clothes.
Penetrating cover
and piercing any armour,
they always find a way.
Skin momentarily holds them,
keeps them back, but in
the end even this is
futile and our bodies
become infiltrated.
It’s raining outside. We have a leak at church.
(08.10.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Eutah Mizushima on Unsplash
Poem 315 – One Year
No celebrations.
No cake, no song, no parties.
No progress. No hope?
One year on from the massacre that sparked the current violent spiral in the Middle East.
(07.10.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by DAVIDCOHEN on Unsplash
Poem 314 – A Life in Song
Perhaps next time I head to town
I’ll sing spontaneous songs out loud,
Burst into a ballads on the bus,
Rap nursery rhymes whilst in the rain.
Rather than moan perhaps I’ll try
A love song waiting for the lift,
Or scream some skratt to skip through time,
Or hum a hymn in hopefulness.
To stop succumbing to cynicism
I shall just jump around to jazz,
And bounce my way through big band blues
And leap to looping Latin beats.
And then as night descends I’ll try,
Some mellow murmured soulful number,
A gospel grace before at last
A lullaby to light day’s leaving.
I had free tickets to see Joker: Folie à Deux, which recounts the lead character’s demise through song (incidentally, in contrast to most reviews, I thoroughly enjoyed it). This got me thinking.
(06.10.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Nadim Merrikh on Unsplash
Poem 313 – Restricted View
Behind a post, up in the gods,
Feet by my teeth and knees tucked in.
Head near the ceiling, bag on lap,
I’m breathing fast, the air is thin.
Twisting hard to see the view
As music fades and lights are dimmed.
But I don’t care, as curtains rise,
A hush descends, the show begins.
In the West End tonight to see a show. This poem written in haste before we were told to turn our mobiles off.
(05.10.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Poem 312 – We Won
Tonight we quizzed,
Wore bread, threw tea,
Hung necklaces
Of shoes in glee.
Tonight we cheered
And did our best,
Played games with bread,
Bemused our guests.
Tonight we made
Ourselves complete
And utter fools
With spoons and feet.
Tonight we won,
Yes everyone had fun,
And when we left
We left as one.
Tonight we enjoyed our own version of Taskmaster at church as part of our harvest celebrations. Very silly. I hope the owner of the glasses forgives me!
(04.10.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Ode for the Day 