Embarrassment

At school, ball games were never my thing.
I could score goals … but only in my own net
(that childhood tournament haunts me still).
I’d knock my own bails off in cricket matches
and never keep a tennis ball in court.
My humble stature left me overwhelmed
in rugby’s crush and overlooked in basketball.

Today the fear returned. Invited back
onto the field to join the staff in battle,
I grasped the rounders bat and tried to banish
the rising sense of shame; ‘Oh no, it’s Ben’
I heard again. But then, another childhood
chant emerged unbidden from the past.
I heard at last the call, ‘Just keep yer eye
upon the ball!’ and with these words in mind
I faced the bowler and swiftly swung my bat.

And with that swing I banished both the ball
and school-hood shame, as with astonishment
I watched it fly through crowd and air and ran,
and ran, around base one and two and three,
and reached the final post before the fall.
What bliss! What cheers! Redemption’s mine!
Salvation found within that skyward ball!

This afternoon I arrived at school prepared for the annual humiliation of the Year 6 Vs Staff and clergy rounders match.
(16.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Ross Sneddon on Unsplash

From somewhere in the heavens I hear a mew.
I scan the sky searching for its source
I know she’s there somewhere.
I remember walking in Wales with the school
Amongst mountains and buzzards
And being taunted, teased for saying, ‘I like birds’.
I can still hear them snigger at my riposte
‘But I mean the feathered kind’.
Even Sir smiled to himself
But not so hidden that I did not see.
I blushed.

I spot her, suspended, wings outstretched
Serene in effortless anticipation
Owning her stage, demanding attention
Whilst giving us none.
She’s seen something scurrying below
Total focus on some distant spot.
Now sweeping for her prey, swift and precise
Not a plummet like a stone
Instead a vaulting ballerina
Poise belying the strength within
Leaping with pointed toe and silent grace
Who couldn’t be moved by the sight?

Oh, that I could learn to fly like her!
To be free from barb and piercing wit
Immune from worrying about what others think
To fly without thought or regret
Composed without and within
To soar above whisper and gossip
Held above those petty spears that stab and wound
To strut upon my stage with the natural ease
That comes from inner confidence
My ready pose demanding attention
But not pleading for it, or seeking it out
Sufficient in who I am.

I have always loved birds! Walking today in Lea Valley I spotted a red kite flying above. Once never seen, since their reintroduction, these elegant birds have become frequent visitors. Sitting down to try and capture their essence in verse, I found myself wondering why I always call them ‘she’, and found myself smiling at a teenage memory.

(19.10.21)

Ode for the Day

An experiment in poetic doodling

Poem 627 – ‘Keep Yer Eye on the Ball’

Poem 11 – The Red Kite & Me