Tomb like, the chrysalis hangs
inert and stoney cold.
All breath has gone. Death’s boney
touch is resident here.
What was has gone, the door
is sealed, its full-stop placed.
What hope, that nagging whisper
of a different punctuation?
The day after the day before? Or the day before the day to come.
(03.04.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo Armon • CC BY-SA 3.0
Two outstretched arms
Pinned like a butterfly
Collected under glass,
Its beauty cruelly faded.
A rigor mortis shrug
Perpetual question posed;
What does this execution
Mean? And why like this?
Two thousand years on and this question still demands reflection.
(03.04.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Wim van ‘t Einde on Unsplash
The air was replete with birdsong,
Heavy with light and life
But that was in the day
And now the night has come.
With darkness’ descent,
The breeze is suffocated,
Breath evacuated,
And every song is stilled.
Watch the flowers close,
Hiding their colours, concealing
Faces, whilst ancient olives
Turn their crinkling backs.
Look, one by one their weighty
Eyes begin to droop,
Joining the garden’s slumber.
Now see! The soldiers come.
Today we remember the Last Supper after which Jesus and his friends head out to the Garden of Gethsemane where Jesus was arrested. The opening line came from a walk this lunchtime in Lee Valley Park which was glorious with birdsong; a counterpoint to my reflections on the day.
(02.04.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Stacey Franco on Unsplash
Did you spring up those final nervous steps,
Or walk with heavy heart and dragging legs?
Was it laced with anger, your request?
A sense of sadness, or perhaps regret?
Did you expect a welcoming embrace,
Or fear closed faces turning you away?
What did you expect to get in exchange,
How many coins made up the going rate?
What led you here? What fueled this giving up?
And when did you discover your mistake?
Thirty silver coins does not sound much;
How much did you expect this deed to make?
Was your life dictated by the sword?
Or did you for love betray your friend and lord?
Judas has always intrigued me. He is only recorded as asking one question of the chief priests, ‘What are you willing to give me?’ I have a lot more that I would ask him.
(01.04.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Joshua Hoehne on Unsplash
Matthew 21:18-22
The fruitless fig tree withers,
its barren branches bend
contorted in their thirst,
a dry and desperate end.
Besieging soldiers’ swords,
the temple stones are torn
one tumbled on another
a crumbled carcass scorned.
A cursing Christ decries
the poverty of their lives
the lack of love that’s seen
no faith, no fruit, just leaves.
Today’s Holy Tuesday of Easter week, the day Christians traditionally remember Jesus’ cursing of the fruitless fig tree and the fruitlessness of the Temple this symbolised.
(31.03.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Wyxina Tresse on Unsplash
In deft defiance, an act of holy disorder,
The tables are turned within the Temple Courts,
And many moneychangers made to moan.
An act of targeted terrorism or
The perfect protest made to pillory
The priests’ hypocrisy in oppressing the poor.
In judgement Jesus stands for the Gentiles, calling
For peace and prayer, not spiteful separation,
Aiming his anger at their acts of partition.
Today is Holy Monday, the day that Christians traditionally remember Jesus’ protest in the Temple.
(30.03.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Anton Mislawsky on Unsplash
Sifting through old tapes
Memories resurrected
Fitting for today
After a packed morning service this morning, I’ve enjoyed a day with family, so only a short one today.
(20.04.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Josh Chiodo on Unsplash
Time’s up
Run out
Lost cause
No doubt
Bitter end
No hope
Flat battery
End of the rope
Last orders
A closing chapter
Dying words
Killed in anger
The final nail
Struck in the rod
It is finished
The Son of God
The curtain ripped
The sky turned black
But have no fear
He will be back
A poem for Good Friday. John 19:30 meets Arnie Schwarzenegger…
(18.04.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
Increasing tension,
As the deadline approaches,
Demands attention.
Talks and events are coming thick and fast!
(15.04.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Towfiqu barbhuiya on Unsplash
A rolling writhing
Sea of sound
Hope and hands rising
The roar of the crowd
A swelling number
Rebellious mood
Their chanting thunders
Their branches strewed
Crying hosanna
A country wronged
Occupied land whose
People long
Testimonies weighed
And signs observed
Their verdict made
Announcing him lord
A quick poem at the end of an enjoyable Palm Sunday.
(13.04.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Jacob Bentzinger on Unsplash
Ode for the Day 