Two arms outstretched can
Forge reconciliation
And build new friendships
It’s been a day of working on relationships.
(09.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Bridge
Poem 429 – Kenwood Bridge
The perfect vision
Arching delight
Curving crisply
Casting the light
Reaching over
Reeds and blue water
Alas this bridge
Is an imposter
To celebrate half term, we took some time today to visit Kenwood House and grounds. Over the lake reaches this beautiful bridge which can be seen from the house. Close inspection, however, reveals it is a sham – it is a two dimensional prop!
(17.02.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Poem 106 – Memory
Not all bridges are forged in sweat and steel
Nor do they all traverse the globe but some
Convey us by our dreams and thoughts
Down secret passages unique to us
A scent transports us back to musty classrooms
Or changing rooms, slick with rowdy teenage bodies
Forgotten fragrances summon unbidden the past
Awakening lost relationships with force
The taste of lamb and fresh mint sauce steals me
To Sunday lunches at my grandparents’
The sound of knives chopping the herb just picked
With acid tang of vinegar poured over
Opening the photo album I’m once again
Surrounded by the Austrian Alps of Mayrhofen
I see you smiling at me from the lake
And savour afresh our early wedded life
These bridges are not solid in construction
As their physical counterparts may be
But shift as tidal waves flow on the sand
Capricious and yet precious in their rarity
My earlier poem about Brunel’s suspension bridge originally had other bridges in view. The discounted concept reappeared today.
(16.03.22)
© Ben Quant 2022
Poem 104 – The Bridge
Spanning the Avon, Brunel’s triumphant feat
Stands proud above the watery cleft below
Industrial muscles clenched it takes the strain
Delivering passengers safety across
Stone feet stand firm upon opposing banks
But this world in between belongs to neither
In this suspended realm we stand apart
A liminal existence ruled by none
This dreamy space is transient despite
His mighty toil in sweat and steel to hold
This is the place for wistful lovers’ strolls
Where free, hot air balloons do ride the sun
Studies have occupied my time this week, but promoted by WordPress’ wordpromt ‘bridge’, here’s an ode to one I’ve got to know over the last few years.
(12.03.22)
© Ben Quant 2022
Ode for the Day 