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
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 277 – Time
Flows through my fingers
I cannot grasp it’s currents
My poem’s unsaid
Ran out of time today….
(30.08.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Jérôme Prax on Unsplash
Poem 276 – Dolphins
Those elusive dreams
Both alien yet near
Rolling in the oily
Seas that sweep the coast
Off Albufeira
This evening we booked our break for this year, a return to Portugal.
(28.08.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Poem 275 – A Day in Haiku
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?
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
Poem 273 – Home
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
