Poem 283 – Rituals

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Reaching for you first thing
and putting on the kettle second.
Wash, then brush my hair and teeth,
then choose my clothes for the day.
A prayerful pause, a stillness,
as I boot the computer.
Reverently playing my vinyl
when I’m home and working alone.
Grinding the evening’s coffee
and offering up its aroma.
A chapter in bed before sleep
then turning to find you again.
The day is full of rituals
and every one a prayer.

Turning an LP this afternoon whilst boiling the kettle got me thinking about my daily rituals.
(05.09.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Yohan Marion on Unsplash

Poem 282 – A Poem

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A metaphor,
a playing with words,
or perhaps a simile,
a play upon words.
An idea beyond
prose definition.
A reaching for
elusive description.
A window pane
or mirrored glass.
A way to express
that which is past.
A captured dream
or aspiration.
An act of resistance,
freedom exclamation.
The deepest pool
or giggling brook.
Sublime or silly,
an alternative look.
A joyful craft or
frustrating art.
Both easily learnt
and always hard.

Thinking about what to write, today I found myself pondering the nature of a poem and its craft.
(04.09.24)

© Ben Quant 2024

Poem 281 – Transition

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The heat naively tarries, believing it
can linger beyond its allotted time,
but despite its valiant efforts
the cold commences its creep.
Gradually sleeping longer, the light
withdraws into the welcoming darkness,
whilst up above the colours start
to drain, gently dribbling downwards.
And so we slide into summer’s slumber
as autumn awakes and starts to ascend.

Suddenly there’s a sense of transition in the air, even though I’m still in shorts. Autumns on its way.
(03.09.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Poem 280 – The Guvnor

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Out of the corner of my eye
I see him scurry across the fence;
a bully who has artfully eased
his predecessors off the patch.

His movement’s confident and cocky,
the urban swagger of one who knows
he’s reached the top of his ‘profession’.
He is the top cat, guvnor, kingpin.

Over his shoulder hangs no weapon
but a bushy tail, his bling,
or status symbol signifying
that he is not too be messed with.

One moment he’s there and then he’s not.
I turn to look but he has vanished,
disarmingly slipped out of my sight.
I scan my surroundings nervously.

It’s not just him that’s disappeared,
it is his stash, ill-gotten gains,
the product of extortion, never
to be seen again till next year.

Somewhere he’s counting out his nuts
stacking then in their ordered piles,
a display intended to underline
that he’s in charge and no one else.

I was sitting this evening wondering what to write about today when I spotted our neighborhood squirrel on the fence…
(02.09.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Lucia Sorrentino on Unsplash

Poem 279 – Twenty-Five Years

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Twenty-five years,
three weddings and
too many funerals.

Baptisms in the garden,
sometimes warm,
but usually freezing.

Broxbourne foodbank,
winter night shelters,
Big Picnics at the park.

Soul Survivor,
Greenbelt,
weekends away.

Two schools and
numerous toddlers
toddlering.

Neverending rotas,
conversations,
unexpected meetings.

Five Advent candles –
so, who remembers
what they mean?

Pastoral visits,
Drop-In lunches
and nursing home services.

Three electric guitars
and three road bikes
pressed into service.

Church redevelopment
requiring prayer and
grants for funding.

So many faces,
places, emotions
and activities.

So many, so much
and yet throughout,
one God, one church, one family.

Today I celebrated 25 amazing years as minister at Wormley Free Church. What a privilege it’s been! These verses don’t do it justice, but I’ve loved being here and looking forward to where our life together as a church family takes us next.
(01.09.24)

© Ben Quant 2024

Poem 278 – Completed

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A poem a day for a month to get back in the habit.
Today the last one, I made it to the end
(except for last night’s, a post midnight Cinderella….)
A chance to reflect, look back on the day’s events.
A chance to vent and work through accumulated
feelings, across the spectrum of joy to sorrow.
A chance to say this is who I am. Me.
A poem a day for August succeeded, all thirty one.

For me, August is a calmer month than others, with more space to think and do other things. At the start of the month, I set myself the challenge of getting back into the habit of writing a daily poem. With this one, it is complete.
(31.08.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Poem 275 – A Day in Haiku

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Does TV beckon?
Time travel thirty-two years
Serve at the foodbank

Write a daily thought
Prepare a final goodbye
Do Toddler accounts

Cook veggie curry
Stick to a difficult no
Tidy the kitchen

Reflect on Greenbelt
Catch up with the family
Write today’s poem

It’s been a varied and busy day, not unusual in my line of work (church minister). When trying to write a poem a day, on days like this the haiku comes to the rescue. Here are four of them.
(28.08.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Eric Rothermel on Unsplash

Poem 274 – What’s On The Box?

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This programme may contain…
…violence
…scenes of a sexual nature
…strong language from the start
…flashing lights, predictable plots, and wobbly sets
…nuts
…a former contestant from a singing competition
…actors you’ve seen in something else but you can’t remember what
…someone who appeared in Casualty once
…people whose diction is difficult to follow
…advert breaks at inappropriate moments
…a cliffhanger that makes you scream in frustration
…a moment that makes you shout, ‘Yes!’ in celebration
…a twist that you’ll share in the office tomorrow
…characters that become an inspiration
…a theme tune you’ll be singing for weeks
…revelations that will change a nation
…an institution the country will gather around
…tomorrow’s nostalgia today

Inspired by the warning at the beginnings of TV dramas and our personal Gogglebox conversation.
(27.08.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Pawel Kadysz on Unsplash