Christmas

Poem 731 – Mary’s Mum

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Why did you go and do that,
Are you out of your little mind?
A pea in the pod? You’re crazy!
A bun in the oven? You’re mad!

They’re saying you’re up the duff,
If not perhaps it’s the pole,
Or have you gone all old school
And are wearing your bustle wrong…

Knocked up – knocked out more like –
This isn’t the time for this.
Have you gone and got yourself pregnant,
For the sake of a hasty kiss?

I hope for your sake he’s special,
You’ve a life of pain ahead,
Don’t be telling me you did nothing
And this child was heaven sent…

This is the time to live,
Play hard, make friends, have fun,
Not sacrifice it all,
For the life of a single mum.

Inevitably the Christmas story is very much on my mind right now.
(15.12.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by freestocks on Unsplash

Poem 729 – Prepared

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The lights are on,
The tree erected,
Nativity placed
Upon its ledge.

The cards delivered
And guests invited,
The talk is written,
Song sheets in place.

The car is packed,
Set list confirmed,
We’re ready for carols,
Our Christ has come.

Tomorrow afternoon it’s our carol service – come and join us! https://wormleyfreechurch.org.uk/2025/11/24/christmas25/
(13.12.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Owen.outdoors: https://www.pexels.com/photo/christmas-carol-sheet-music-with-decorations-29756511/

Poem 728 – Christmas Lights

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A chain of dancing lights effortlessly
pirouette across the darkened stage.
Full of childhood innocence, they search
us out, then smile and wave in recognition.
In that moment, our weariness subsides
and we return the smile with glowing faces.
But innocence must end, their moment passes,
and as the day begins they take their bow.

We decorated the church last night. Every year, the putting up of these lights officially signals the start of festivities, combining childhood memories and contemporary meaning.
(12.12.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 723 – Holding Our Breath

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A collective holding of breath,
growing anticipation,
the draining down of sand
and dawning realisation.

A sense of something changing,
reversal of the tide,
the night is nearly over,
two worlds will soon collide.

The earthly land of Adam
and heavenly realm of Christ,
by sin once torn asunder,
the terrible great divide.

But with the Light’s appearing,
the bridging of God’s Son,
his Word to flesh descending,
through love they’ll be made one.

To vulnerable skin he comes,
by human form confined,
it’s Immanuel we’re awaiting,
this hope-filled advent time.

So light a candle with me,
upon the advent wreath,
prepare yourself with prayer,
for the Christ-child to receive.

I was asked to offer a poem for a joint Advent service between my church and a neighbouring one (Rosedale Community Church). Mulling this over, I found an old one I’d written before and reworked it into this, changing the original last line and adding a number of new stanzas.
(07.12.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Alexandar Todov on Unsplash

Poem 720 – Someone’s Coming…

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Someone’s coming, yes, you know who,
He’s coming here for me and for you.
He has a list, it’s ever so long,
Which all of our names are written on.

Excitement’s growing, yes it is!
This isn’t something you’ll want to miss!
The wait’s so long, it’s got me in a tizz,
But when he comes, oh, it will be such bliss!

‘So has he been yet?’ my mother asks.
‘I don’t think so, but this wait can’t last,
I’ve been sitting here since night first fell,
Now my eyes are drooping, can’t you tell…’

I’m beginning to think that he won’t come,
I’m falling asleep, my plan’s undone.
But wait a minute, what’s this sound?
A shaking and a rumbling that’s growing loud.

A man in red? No, a man in white!
Suspended by wings, he hangs in flight,
A growing swell, a song of love,
The heavenly host, join in from above!

They say he’s coming, it won’t be long,
Mary’s contractions are growing strong,
You’d better not wait, no, get your skates on,
Dash out of the door, and to the manger run!

Someone’s coming, yes, you know who,
He’s coming here for me and for you,
So do not fear, there’s no need to be afraid,
God’s Son is born and in a manger laid!

I remember the excited anticipation of Christmas morning, and my mother’s annual question as we were eventually allowed downstairs, ‘Has he been yet?’, which led to a jubilant ripping open of Christmas presents. Today, I remain excited, but it’s about the arrival of someone else.
(04.12.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Addy Mae on Unsplash

Poem 713 – Thursday Morning, Late November

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Thursday morning at eleven o’clock. The cars
all have their automatic headlights on
to lift the lethargy. It does not work.
A pensive mood infects the air and even
the sun is tentative. It seems afraid,
a fearful suitor, reluctant to commit.
Before too long the hopeful Christmas lights
will shine, and maybe that will lift our eyes,
but for now, like Simeon, we’re forced to wait
and wonder if the Son will ever rise.

Walking home this morning I was struck by the car lights…
(27.11.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Dawit on Unsplash

Poem 711 – One Month to Go (A Minister’s Predicament)

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So many tasks and services,
completing them is a constant doubt,
I’m caught between an anguished shriek,
and a merry dance and joyful shout.

And yet I love this time of year,
I love the reason for its cheer,
the coming birth of Jesus Christ,
Immanuel, God’s Son with us.

His birth that night in Bethlehem,
to a teenage mum and carpenter dad,
accompanied by the angels and
glad shepherds who to the manger ran.

What is the reason for their rush?
That Christ had come for the likes of us,
no, not just kings but everyone,
Love lifting us to the Holy One.

I’ll take a breath and dive on in,
I’ll give my all to follow him,
what else is there for me to do,
for him who lived for me and you?

And so I lift my voice and sing,
One month to go! One month for Him!

Whilst working tonight on grant applications for our church redevelopment project and various Christmas preparations, I noticed the date. Perhaps the rhyme makes it a bit twee, but cut me some slack, with one month to go, there’s a lot on my plate!
(25.11.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Árni Svanur Daníelsson on Unsplash

Poem 386 – Twelfth Night

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Three years on this trot
I’ve written poems today that
Share the same title

A short one today! A busy day with a great service this morning, clearing the house and decorations this afternoon, and friends around tonight to finish the season.
(05.01.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Painting by Edwin Landseer, Scene from A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1851) (Public Domain)

Poem 385 – The Christmas River

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Who knows what day it is this time of year?
With punctuation gone we wander through
The flowing hours, never changing gear,
And drift with nothing that we need to do.
The burbling moments trickle aimlessly
And wandering in their tide we meditate,
Sometimes parting to find some tributary
To idle in, then join to celebrate.
The space this absence gives is necessary,
Like sea around an island, it gives meaning,
Defining shape, allows us to be merry,
Highlighting that which lies behind the season.
And so with joy we join the angels’ mirth,
For Christ, God’s Son, our Saviour’s born on earth!

I originally got the date wrong when I posted my last poem. When this was pointed out I said ‘who knows what day it is this time of year!’ A good friend promptly threw down a gauntlet and challenged me to write a poem around that theme and he would do the same. Suspecting he would err towards something informal, I thought I’d go the opposite way and dive into the formal rhyming structure and second half twist of a sonnet!
(04.01.25)

© Ben Quant 2025