Poem 666 – Such As These*

A simple slip of tongue produced
A gem of wisdom, profound adage,
After the laughter let it sink in,
‘It takes a child to raise a village’.

It takes a child to raise a village,
A simple soul to teach the wise,
The joy of life to lift the spirits,
An open heart to make us nice.

The awestruck face that greeted me
Striped back the pretensions that I relied on,
When walking along the roadside verge,
We stopped to admire a dandelion,

Eyes wide with wonder woke the weary,
My cynicism drained away,
I saw again as I used to see,
I wish this innocence would stay.

Instantly, children come together,
From strangers quickly friendships form;
Covenants of grace are forged in fun,
And from the games new life is born.

It doesn’t matter who they are,
Their colour, creed or place of birth,
Collisions occur, but are quickly
Forgotten and replaced with mirth.

We’ve long believed the well trod lie,
That wisdom comes with age, until
Much to our surprise we found the truth,
It takes a child to raise a village.

I listened to the excellent Adjoa Andoh at Greenbelt today. A slip of the tongue inspired this poem, married to an encounter with a three year old friend on a walk over day. (*Matthew 19:14)
(23.08.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Jochen van Wylick on Unsplash

Poem 323 – The Bite

There’s a special kind
of osmosis which occurs when
children and adults are put
in the same room together.

To start with, all seem even
but gradually the children
begin to run and run,
swarming ever faster.

Meanwhile the adults flag.
Their life is drained and soon
the dessicated edges
fray, their clocks wind down.

Could it be that this,
a lusting not for blood
but life, lies hid beneath
the old myth’s genesis.

It never ceases to amaze me how children seem to have such relentless energy. Exhausting!
(15.10.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Image adapted from a photo by Igam Ogam on Unsplash

Poem 42 – The UnProdigal Son

I knew the story but wasn’t certain
Exactly what prodigal meant
So I looked it up and I’m glad to say
That my son is not it
Although he left university bound
He didn’t have the gall
To request his share of my estate
As if I’d met my end
I’m glad to say his student loan
Hasn’t been blown upon
Wild student parties and loose living
A mad freshers’ week fling
But even though that isn’t him
It definitely doesn’t mean
I don’t love him with a father’s love
And rejoice when he comes home

Our son has been home to visit for a few days, it’s been lovely to see him!

(23.11.21)

© Ben Quant 2021

Picture: “The Return of the Prodigal Son”, by Rembran(d)t Harmenszoon van Rijn, c. 1669 (Public Domain)