Poem 228 – Moses Goes for a Drive

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

There’s a river where the road is, a
rolling, writhing, river brown that
snakes around my wheels and threatens
to submerge me, drag me down. This
river wasn’t here before, it
caught me by surprise. Before I
had a chance to turn away, it
surged up to my fearful doors. No
turning back, I am committed,
I must stay the course. I hold my
breath, steady the wheel, lift up my
staff and hope and pray. Be bold and
trust that God makes waves and once more
saves the day.

On the 9th day of Christmas I found myself driving in Nottinghamshire through flooded roads brought about first by Storm Gerrit and then Henk. I found myself wondering what the consequences of mingling an electric car with flood water might be…
(04.01.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Original photo by Chris Gallagher on Unsplash

Poem 227 – The Fall of Rome

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

Stationed near straight Ermine Street
your cold grip held us in your thrall.
You thought you were invincible,
standing on guard, so stern, so still,
but now you lie absorbed beneath
the nettles, the land reclaims its own.
Once you boasted of great empire,
today you sink neglected and alone.

On the 6th Day of Christmas, we went for a walk around the sculpture trail in Broxbourne Woods, a much frequented trail when our children were little. Sadly, time has had its toll. Some of the statues are missing, and others, like the Roman Soldier, have fallen.
(31.12.23)

© Ben Quant 2023

Poem 226 – The Sixth Day

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

The ghost of Gerrit grumbles through our garden,
its urgent whispers whipping leaves away
in merry dances, diving down amongst the
branches before rebounding skywards.
Above, the languid light retreats, leaving
our cloud shrouded landscape down below;
its inhabitants hiding behind curtain covered
windows, seeking warmth from winter’s cold.

A piece of alliterative verse inspired by a gloomy day between Christmas and New Year, with the weather still affected by the tail end of Storm Gerrit.
(30.12.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo adapted from Doug Linstedt on Unsplash

Poem 223 – Boxing Day Anecdote

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

Catching up on poems from the last few days…

A little weary, out of rhythm,
we rise to scattered festive relics.
An anecdote is told about
a former poet laureate.
Required walking to clear our heads
and settled Christmas lethargy.
We stop to feed Egyptian and Canadian
geese and opportunistic pigeons.
Back home it’s time for lunch, comprised of
yesterday’s offcuts before
a most unexpected reprise,
“You know that story? I missed a line,
‘I woke besides the ugliest woman…'”

A true story…
(26.12.23)

© Ben Quant 2023

Poem 222 – Christmas 2023

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

If Christ was born today
he’d not be manger bound
but laid within the dust.

This year there’d be no shepherds,
nor angelic song,
sirens will sound the welcome.

With Banksy grafitiing
four bombers on a stop sign,
no dreams are required to run.

Joining the refugee train
I find myself pleading
where have the wise men gone…

This poem was inspired by the photo, a nativity scene outside Christmas Lutheran Church, Bethlehem in the occupied West Bank. Exploring the Christmas story with the events unfolding in the Palestine/Israel this season has had quite a different feel to it.
(25.12.23)

© Ben Quant 2023

Poem 221 – Between

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

The sun hesitates;
the damp ground is left longing.
This seasonal purgatory is
an advent pause that’s caught
between what was and what’s to come.
A time to hold our breath
and wait in faith and hope.

Walking back from taking a Christmas assembly at school earlier this week, I was struck by how gloomy it was. The day hadn’t quite managed to begin, and probably wouldn’t do so before night set in.
(09.12.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo adapted from Johannes Plenio on Unsplash

Poem 220 – Winter’s Bite

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

This morning’s frost looked beautiful but
it bites my neck and makes my muscles ache.
My fingers have become a fading white.
My breath’s condensing on my nose. It drips.
I brew more cups of tea to warm within
but even this becomes draining,
necessitating even more trips to the bathroom.
I fear to look in the mirror.
Will anything be there? Or is, as I suspect,
the cold in truth a thirsting vampire with
its fangs open in sharp and siphoning anger.

It’s cold…
(01.12.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by David Hellmann on Unsplash

Poem 219 – Sleep

/ BenDQ / Leave a comment

The light switch flicked and only we prevail
And as we sleep as one, one breath we breathe
I don’t recall when I forgot to marvel
Before, we talked and read, then after, we leave

And as we sleep as one, one breath we breathe
Miraculous contained within mundane
Before, we talked and read, then after, we leave
The ordinary matters and, shared, sustains

Miraculous contained within mundane
Two pillows bound together by one sheet
The ordinary matters and, shared, sustains
Your daily life around my form completes

Two pillows bound together by one sheet
I don’t recall when I forgot to marvel
Your daily life around my form completes
The light switch flicked and only we prevail

This poem takes the form of a pantoum, a Malaysian form with eight lines repeated in a strict order, and is inspired by Pádraig Ó Tuama’s post on the ordinary. After almost 30 years of marriage, the simple act of sharing everyday life and daily routines, such as sleep, is simultaneously both ordinary and surprising.
(30.11.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Krista Mangulsone on Unsplash