There’s something in those eyes,
a passing thought or feeling
that briefly wakes and flickers.
It’s hard to read its meaning,
though, and I’m left uncertain
of what transpires within.
Just as with a painting on
display, I’m forced to make
my own interpretation,
and in an act of violence,
superimpose my own
emotion on your frame.
This leaves me feeling anxious,
have I not understood
your silent art at all?
(01.01.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Olivia Anne Snyderon Unsplash
Filling in the blnks,
Personalising the crwd,
Identfyng objects
Hgh in the gathering clouds.
Forevr seeking patterns,
Our brains instinctivly,
Fill in all the gaps, to mke
Snse of what they see.
This is our superpowr,
Our mnd’s great party trck,
Unless there’s no connecton,
And then we come unstck.
All that said, I’ve never been good at the missing vowels round in Only Connect…
(24.11.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash
‘I’m going to ABBA tomorrow’, he said
Fantastic, I replied. I’d heard
so many good things about the show,
and how the holograms seemed so real.
Not having seen the gig myself,
and wanting to add to the conversation,
I started to talk about a show
that I’d just seen the night before.
I saw a jolt upon his face,
a mental change of gear, but ever
composed and mindful of the other,
he quickly engaged with what I’d said.
Realising, perhaps, that I had moved
too quickly from his coming joy,
I returned the conversation to
our quartet of Seventies songsters.
His features creased a merry crease,
‘I must have miscommunicated,
I didn’t mean the sequinned Swedes,
but Aber as in Aberystwyth!
The moral of this mutual blunder?
The danger of assuming shared
perception, a common understanding,
obvious isn’t always so.
A comic conversation from this morning that makes a perfect illustration.
(23.11.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Andrew Ebrahim on Unsplash
Ode for the Day 