Life

Poem 983 – Life on Ice

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Life’s like ice skating
Sometimes it feels like you’re flying,
Moving so freely through the days
With effortless style and grace.

Other days you get caught in a rut,
Find yourself wobbling violently
Or crashing headlong into a barrier.
Sometimes it’s not even your fault (but sometimes it is!)

Both occur to all of us.
Be kind to yourself, don’t scream and rant.
Pick yourself up if you need to
And don’t hate the one who glides past – next time it may be you.

That snapshot, that moment in time
When you pull it off, or you fall in humiliation?
It is only that moment. It does not define
What came before or what happens next.

So don’t judge yourself or those surrounding you.
We are all Torvill and Dean sometimes
and for those who remember,
Todd Carty in Dancing on Ice…

Went ice skating today…
(25.08.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Library of Congress on Unsplash

Poem 962 – The Imagination of Rain

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The imagination of rain.
A dream that calls forth life
in torrents of shapes and sizes.
Thoughts that whisper strands
of DNA helixes,
a multitude of colours
and possibility.
Ideas externalised
in passing forms,
mirroring those made flesh.
Creativity
dispersed to root and river.

Although the clouds threatened in Hunstanton today, we only got to enjoy a brief hint of rain, no more. It was enough to cause the title of this poem to come to mind, however.
(04.08.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 947 – One Day

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Today I buried Reynard,
Enjoyed a coffee in Spoons,
And was mistaken for Thomas Tuchel.

Today I sat beneath,
A ghostly barn owl fly-past,
And partial rusty moon.

Today has been surreal,
Disturbing and exciting,
And sometimes awe-inspiring

A long and busy day.
(20.07.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Lou Barros on Unsplash

Poem 933 – Lethargic Poet

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Can I be bothered?
The weekend was long
and I’m feeling weary.
But above the swifts
are wheeling still
and I’m put to shame.
Perhaps I ought
to rouse myself…
Maybe tomorrow.

Yesterday I had a five hour drive back from near Exeter and today is hot. You almost got a haiku…
(06.07.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 779 – In the Beginning

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In the beginning, the end.
The trunk lies prone across
the damp, green undergrowth,
a wetland’s edge, a world
of moss and earthy smells.
Before too long its reach
is breached, invaded by
a myriad of hopeful life
that creeps across its skin
and digs within its folds.
Roots tenderly caress
and insects penetrate –
integrity decays
as one becomes the whole and
the whole absorbs the one.
This union births a realm,
a bloom of life, and thus
the end becomes the beginning.

On our walk this afternoon we passed a tree that had been felled and deliberately let to rot and feed the life of a local patch of wetland.
(01.02.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Ivy Kleban on Unsplash

Poem 756 – The Way

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Amidst the chaos there lies a line.
It weaves a way, a golden thread
of grace, not chalk or string, through life’s
varied and unpredictable maze.

A fragile thing, at first it seems
too fine, invisible and prone,
and yet, persistent, it somehow snakes
through life’s ragged ups and downs.

A golden thread that is not precious,
that rolls up its well worn sleeves,
knows life in all its care and messiness,
that dares to tread the dangerous street.

It does not force, or bend, or break,
it simply finds a way for feet to trace
when eyes are dark, imagination
spent. This path is known as love.

It’s been a week of trying to find a way through some tricky pastoral situations.
(09.01.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Vasilica Ciocan on Unsplash