Poem 971 – Decorating Therapy

And relax,
Feel the gentle rhythm:
In, out, in, out.
The flow of paint upon the wall,
The careful application until all
is covered, an even coat.
And as you breathe let go of thought,
Of fear or threat, anxiety
And simply be.
In, out, in, out.
Don’t bite your lip in concentration,
Drip the paint upon the floor
Or door or carpet. Hesitation
Leads to messy lines, just flow
With it,
In, out, in, out,
Until it’s time to lay your brush
Upon the tray, step back and look
And say, it’s done and all is good.

Life’s a little busy right now, but decorating seems to be a great way to let go at the end of the day, one walk at a time.
(13.08.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Roselyn Tirado on Unsplash

Poem 627 – Tidal Painting

The tide comes in, its waves
sweeping across the wall,
a swell of colour crashing
to its very boundaries.
Rock pools form, deep puddles
caught in crevices.
Carefree spray transgresses,
marking past its limits.
But as the wash recedes,
the turbulence dies down,
a pristine beach is left
of smooth and even colour.

We’re decorating at the moment, painting walls one at a time around the house. So often it looks a terrible mess until the very last coat is on and dry.
(02.09.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Ryan Farid on Unsplash

Poem 460 – Let Me Paint You a Picture

The other night we gathered.
Not around a fire like
our predecessors but
around the table with
the plan of telling tales.

We started with the story
of our days. We shared frustrations
our triumphs, hopes and dreams;
wielding brushes to paint
the scene we wanted seen.

And then our make-believe.
A painting of a haunted house
investigated by
our alter-egos, bravely
searching for the truth.

Its strange, but when I hang
these portraits side by side,
there’s no denying that
the brushstrokes are the same.
Two different worlds connected.

Today the news, more stories.
A splash of colour here
a daub of darkness there,
all vying for opinion,
surreal, unreal or real?

Stories within stories.
Landscapes created by
our conflict. Colours clash
and mix, until we find
some truth emerging from them.

What is truth? I suspect that’s the question of our age. I’m increasingly aware of how we reveal and hide the truth within the stories that we tell.
(20.03.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Ahmed Raza Kz on Unsplash