Sleeping bag grappled.
Tent dried and packed,
along with a random item to be
rediscovered next time.
Rubbish disposed of,
green and not.
Excess taken to the foodbank.
Car sought in a car park
stripped to the bare essentials.
Give thanks when I find it.
Satnav set for ‘Home’.
Strange, this is home too.
A porcelain toilet will be nice though
and a proper cup of tea.
The wristband stays on,
I’m not quite ready yet
to say goodbye.
Greenbelt’s over for another year, and what a cracking weekend it was, despite having four seasons in as many days!
(26.08.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Poem 272 – Bridging
This morning we broke bread with you.
This bread, freshly baked beforehand,
was tossed from one to another until
we all had enough to eat; a modern-
day feeding of the five thousand.
It was an unexpected twist,
this rugby ball distribution that
worked so magnificently, hilariously.
I laughed until I realised that
I could not toss Christ’s bread to you.
I could not toss it because of the wall
that stood between us, the wall from which
your enlarged face appeared and spoke.
I could not toss it because of the shrinking perimeter penning you in your home.
Remember the collapse of the Berlin Wall?
Walls can be bridged, dismantled, toppled,
but what can bridge the gap between us?
Only the outstretched bread of Christ,
the refusal to be enemies.
The biggest event at Greenbelt is the Sunday morning communion service. This morning it was supposed to be led by Daoud Nassar from Bethlehem. Sadly he could not join us, increased illegal settler activity around his farm, ‘The Tent of Nations,’ meant that he felt he had to stay. Instead he joined by live link, speaking from a large video screen. He and family refuse to respond to the threat with violence and instead seek to withstand peacefully, with the words ‘we refuse to be enemies’ emblazoned on their wall.
https://tentofnations.com/
(25.08.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Poem 271 – Greenbelt Snapshots
Dragonflies flitting round the poet
A daughter dancing in the glade
Steam rising from the canopy
Shelter sought and thinking remade
Floral dresses accompanied by wellies
A speaker on Zoom surprised by the loos
Unexpected powercuts
A God who leaves us free to choose
Familiar faces seen once a year
Lost stories found in glorious song
The wind and rain at last dismissed
Joyous epiphany, here comes the sun
Snapshots from the last couple of days at Greenbelt. The weather continues to be a feature, but I’m optimistic that the wet and wind is more past us.
(24.08.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Poem 270 – Lilian’s Boast
Last night was the night
that the storm came to town
shouting, ‘I’ll huff and I’ll puff,
and I’ll blow your tent down!’
But we weren’t deterred
by the threats that she made
we gathered here regardless
ignored her tirade.
So she huffed, and she puffed,
with all of her might,
she blew at the tent,
through all of the night,
it wibbled and wobbled
like one of mum’s jellies,
it lost all its structure
like a middle aged belly,
but every single time
that she thought she had won
it would pop right back up
to the place it’d begun!
Storm Lilian visited Greenbelt last night, with 40mph winds. The star this morning is a slow one as the site is made safe – much festival kit was not put up beforehand just in case. It’s not going to put use off though!
(23.08.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Poem 269 – Anticipation
The tent is up, pegged square and neat,
the sun for now my companion.
I am relieved, there’s nothing worse
than setting up when it is raining.
The wind is twitchy. Like a restless
child, it can’t sit still, but worries
at the tent. I worry too.
Somewhere that butterfly has flapped
its wings and storms conspire.
The canvas flexes but holds for now,
an intake of breath before.
Inside it sounds a little like
the sea washing at the shore.
I close my eyes content and rest
awhile in hopeful anticipation.
I’ve arrived for my annual pilgrimage to Greenbelt Festival. We’re promised the whole array of English weather! Although I’m a little worried about high winds, I’m really looking forward to what’s in store.
(22.08.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Poem 268 – Yesterday
Yesterday
Our wedding day was many years away
Thirty of them to the very day
Oh, I believe in yesterday
Suddenly
Time has passed, how are we here today!
I’ve gained lines and look my hair’s gone grey
But I believe in yesterday
Troubles come and go
but I know you’re here to stay
when things go wrong, you stay strong
we hold on to yesterday
Hopefully
We’ll walk into the future, come what may
Knowing that our love won’t go away
‘Cause we believe in yesterday
A bit soppy/corny I know…
For Kate. Thank you.
(21.08.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Poem 267 – Numbers
Numbers is found in the Jewish Torah,
the Christian Old Testament,
and the Muslim Tawrat.
It contains the lists of the living.
All three also share
an eye for an eye
and a tooth for a tooth.
Here are some numbers,
but this time the dead
not the living.
In Hamas’ attack
the 7th of October
1139 Israelis were killed.
251 taken hostage.
Each number a person.
Each person a family.
Each family a community.
Each one, one of us.
They say overall
more than 40,000 Palestinians
have died in response.
Each number a person.
Each person a family.
Each family a community.
Each one, one of us.
These numbers don’t scan
or make easy poetry
but that’s not the point.
They’re awkward.
They should be.
Now I don’t know
if these numbers are true
but I know that an eye for an eye
and a tooth for a tooth
was meant as a concession
and not an instruction,
a limit to violence
and not an extension.
I also know that each
one is too much,
that piling more on
won’t get us to zero.
Do call me naive
or say I’m simplistic
but to me it is simple:
violence breeds violence
and might isn’t right.
There’s only one way
we can stop this increase
and that is to stop.
It’s hard to know at a distance how reliable the numbers we’re hearing from this conflict are, but clearly they’re high. Sometimes the bravest and strongest response is to have the courage to ‘turn the other cheek’ as Jesus said in his commentary on ‘an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth’. Naive? Perhaps. Risky, certainly. But…
(20.08.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Emad El Byed on Unsplash
Poem 266 – Distracted
I’m at my desk with pen in hand
or fingers on the keys,
I really ought to be getting on
instead I feel unease.
There’s something squatting in my mind
right where my work should be,
a mental barrier holding back
my productivity.
I keep on putting it aside,
whilst grasping my mind’s reigns,
only to discover that
I’ve picked it up again.
Perhaps the perfect answer to this
wretched predicament,
is to give in to it and to give it all
until my joy is spent.
My fear, however, of this tactic,
is if I give it a go,
the joy will never ever cease
and ever onwards flow.
And so to solve it instead I wrote
a poem about my plight, and
now back to work I must return
and hope it’s put to flight!
Returning from holiday to work is always a challenge… especially when another break, this time at Greenbelt Festival, soon beckons.
(19.08.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Caleb Woods on Unsplash
Poem 265 – Mistaken Identity
The perfect V, they swam
across the lake towards
our luring hands, for food.
Two adults and their scruffy
signet, a few months old.
Still brown, inquisitive,
its newborn down beginning
to be replaced for flight.
Noisily they slurp the
water where we scattered
the pellets, hissing for more.
Watching their perfect forms
I wondered how one could
be seen as ugly or
confused with a duckling at all.
An afternoon stroll walking by the lakes along Lea Valley to visit our old friends and one new…
(18.08.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Poem 264 – Waiting
Frankie was happier on the return leg,
senseless with mirth at his own jokes.
More sleep was had, the gradual detachment
that comes when homeward bound.
Retreating inwards we count –
weekend timetables require patience.
A mindless state’s achieved.
A better journey on the overnight Megabus, helped by the lively ceilidh last thing.
(17.08.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Ode for the Day 