Poem 79 – We, The Echo

Across the valley’s sides
The sound is mimicked as
A bird repeats its owner
Rehearsing copied phrases

These sounds, whilst not the same
As imperfections intrude
Decaying patterns fade,
Are recognisable
The second valve follows
The beating heart’s first drum

Tonight your people meet
Inspired by their God
The Father, Spirit, Son
Living in unity
Bound by their common love
That reaches outwardly

Our simple prayer remains
That as your love echoes
Across this valley’s sides
It’s found reflected here
Repurposed in our lives

Although we smudge your image
The paint is smeared as printed
We hope as we live out
Our lives amongst our neighbours
That they might recognise
The fumbled love we offer
Originally has
It’s source in you, the start
The Word in the beginning
Who set the echo off
And like an avalanche
May the cascade begin

(27.01.22)

Last night our church family gathered. We talked about who we are and the people we want to be and overnight this conversation became a prayer.
© Ben Quant 2022

Poem 78 – Close Encounter

First of all I sense it coming
Growing tension in the air
Building pressure ominous, the
Beast approaches drawing near

Then I hear a snarling note with
Pitch increasing, Doppler lift
Whining of four spinning wheels
Aggressive, through the gears it shifts

Body tensing, past experience
Muscle memory plays its part
Instinctively I know what’s coming
Snapping heels, approaching fast

Swift, it steals manoeuvre room by
Leaping, yapping, at my side
Adrenaline floods through the system
Now its time for flight or fight

Finally it cuts inside, a
Reckless swerve inches away
Pounding heart within my chest, I’m
Left exclaiming, all in vain


News of impending changes brought a cheer in our household. As a cyclist, I have experienced too many occasions where drivers have aggressively overtaken me, passing far too closely and cutting in dangerously, even turning left across my path (please note, I’m not saying all drivers are villains, or cyclists good road users).

(24.01.22)

© Ben Quant 2022

Poem 77 – WWW.

They say you can be lonely in a crowd
Feel isolated, solitary even, in
A throng of others densely gathered round
The tree, perhaps, resides in this position
Bearing so tall, so mighty and so proud
Aloof, and self-sufficient, self-assured
Possessive, owning its own patch of ground
The tree’s an isolated individual
Yes, even in a wood this seems the case
They congregate but each stands on their own
There’s no society found in this place
Where every trunk extends skyward alone
But this estrangement’s our misapprehension
Their interaction’s taking place elsewhere
As down beneath our feet there’s conversation
Within the soil a constant silent prayer
Communing in earth’s cold and damp, dark bed
Along pale fibres intercessions flow
Their whispers spread through mediating threads
Ubiquitous networks of fungal growth
No tree in isolation stands but each
By every other in the wood is cared
No one in need finds it is out of reach
As warnings, news and nutrients are shared
We celebrate the world wide web’s creation
Enabling arms to reach around its girth
But nature could have been our inspiration
Its wood wide web first stretched throughout the earth

I was first properly introduced to the concept of the wood-wide-web when reading Underworld by Robert Macfarlane (https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40643657-underland). He writes of the infectious enthusiasm of Merlin Sheldrake (https://www.merlinsheldrake.com/), one of the leading researchers into this symbiotic relationship between trees and fungus, which allows communication across vast areas in ways which until very recently we were unaware of. Absolutely fascinating. His ‘Entangled Life’ is next on my reading list…
(21.01.22)

© Ben Quant 2022

Poem 76 – Red Lines

This morning drew a thin red line
Delineating night from day
Thus separating what has been
From what has yet to come our way
Meanwhile another thin red line
Emerged upon my plastic stick
Announcing I could play my part
In all this new day might yet bring

Another quick one today, after a full day of work and college. Brain full of toddlers, practical theology and commuter trains for anything more imaginative or deep!
(19.01.22)

© Ben Quant 2022

Poem 74 – Perfectly Formed

We stroll along the muddy banks
Mid-January Sunday afternoon
Opposing the New River’s waters
Breath catching in the growing gloom
Peripheral vision glimpses movement
A twitch descending accompanied by
A plop, the sound of water applauding
I turn but did my vision lie?
Scanning the water I seek the cause
But only ripples linger on
Alluding to that past disturbance
The water bare, the culprit’s gone
Look over there five metres past!
Its long beak piercing through the surface
And bobbing on the waters cold
A speckled cormorant emerges
It briefly turns acknowledging
Our passing presence, two chilly guests
Before descending once again
An artful dive into the depths
I marvel at its perfect form
So naturally adapted to
The river life when mud hinders
The ease by which we pass on through

Yesterday afternoon we managed a brief walk along the New River as it leaves Cheshunt before it got dark and were delighted to see a juvenile cormorant fisher in the water alongside us, something we haven’t seen before.
(17.01.22)

© Ben Quant 2022

Poem 73 – Maintenance Illumination

The manual makes it sound so easy,
‘Loosen the clip, unscrew, replace.’
Experience shows it rarely goes,
As smoothly as this might suggest.
Where does the boot release switch hide?
Should the clasp casing hang like this?
How can I get my hand round there?
Which way is it supposed to twist?
In light of this, there’s no surprise,
That when our headlight faded fast,
I did not fix it on my own,
But asked the garage, I’ve learned at last!

I think this one speaks for itself! Car maintenance is never as straightforward as the manuals make it out to be…
(16.01.22)

© Ben Quant 2022

Poem 72 – Collateral Damage

To me this feels familiar and strange
Conflicting feelings jostle dissonant
It’s a relief to finally be back
Albeit we’re masked and social distant

Somehow, however, we’re now out of phase
Alternative dimensions are our homes
Like Schrödinger’s famous experiment
We’re both together and it seems alone

We watch each other from the corners of
Our eyes avoiding contact if we can
A living photograph doubly exposed
Collateral damage from Covid’s bans

Last night we went to see an episode of a sitcom being filmed (Andy Hamilton’s ‘Kate and Koji’). We watched a number pre-lockdown and it was lovely to be back, but noticeably the interaction in the queue and set was lacking, as if everyone else wasn’t really there.
(14.01.22)

© Ben Quant 2022

Poem 71 – The Verdict

Today, I feel bereft, by lover scorned
A father’s ache as wayward child withdraws
I breathed my breath in you, my pulse, my thought
Do I deserve your snarling teeth and claws?

The pain of losing one too close is yet
Unknown to me but here I gain a taste
The labour throes expectantly endured
But cuckoo-like competing twins supplace

Adrift I grapple to regain control
An aimless ship that’s lost its sense of place
The pride anticipated at your birth
Usurped as hollowness and anger rage

Give me some space to rant and weep then pass
A paper bag to help me once more breathe
I know tomorrow I will find a way
But until then I simply need to grieve

Yesterday I received the written report on my viva for my DMin which took place just before Christmas. I already knew the outcome, after seven years of work the examiners sent me away to substantially rewrite it, which came as a complete shock to me, but receiving the formal letter and report once more unmoored me.
(13.01.22)

© Ben Quant 2022

Poem 70 – A Modern Conversion

It started with a closure, then
Hot on its heels windows were shut,
Boarded up and scaffolding raised.
Before we knew it hammers rang
Fashion arcade transformed to the
Domain of clipboards and hi-viz.
Its fate seemed unclear, perhaps
Decay had snared our flagging shops
But no! At last all is revealed,
The veil is finally removed
Exposing what has secretly
Transpired beneath. Like hermit crabs
Into its former shell have crept
New occupants served and worshipped
By our national obsession
Consumerism’s gods installed
Our arcade transformed to match those
Found up and down the land, our own
Monotheistic religion

Our local shopping ‘centre’ has been revamped. I’m torn, guiltily excited to see new stores, including a bike shop, but a little disappointed that in so many ways it looks like so many centres today.

(12.01.22)

© Ben Quant 2022