Birth

Poem 784 – Roundel Labour

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This is an experiment to see if I might
Be able to birth a roundel across nine lines
Whilst keeping its rhyming crisp and delightfully tight
…..I think it’s fine

I’m reassured this body can be divine
And leap from the page just like a bird in flight
Or flow across the tongue, the finest wine

It shouldn’t take a struggle or a fight
To bring this labour to life like Frankenstein
Requiring forceful lightning to ignite
…..I think it’s fine

If not sure what to write about, try out a new form!
(06.02.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Alex Hockett on Unsplash

Poem 477 – Mother Sun

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The newborn sunshine warms the sleeping foal.
With winter’s labour done, its early rays
accompany the horse’s early breaths.
Lying content and totally at peace
its chest rises and falls, filling with life
under its constant mother’s patient gaze.

This afternoon we took a walk across the River Lea, and stumbled across the site of a new born foal sleeping under the early spring sun.
(06.04.25)

© Ben Quant 2025