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Poem 447 – Childish Things?

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Eight men, eight grown-up men at that, all sat
Around a table playing games. It seems,
A little childish perhaps, a desperate clutching
Onto passing days, of memories
Of living wild and young and fearlessly.
But here we’re free to put aside, for now,
Responsibility and simply be
Ourselves. To set aside the expectations
Put upon us by ourselves and others.
Right now the world reduces to the choices
Made, the turns we take, and all that matters
Is the fun we find, investing in each other.
We end rejuvenated, ready as
the table and the world expand again.

Today I travelled back from a weekend playing boardgames with friends. A wonderful time, thanks all!
(17.11.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 694 – Come and Rest

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Sometimes, it’s good to stop and while away
some time in nothing’s welcome hands and rest,
to idle like a river at the behest
of no one but the lazy flow, and play
in gentle eddies, splashing like a child.

These leisurely delights appear so mild,
belying the strength that lies beneath the surface,
accumulated over years of mirth,
as our habitual sabbath play gives guile
to stand despite the force of whim and toil.

This rhythmic life provides enriching soil,
the necessary nutrients for growth,
sink in your roots and deeply drink to clothe
yourselves with crowning leaves and trunk, a royal
oak. Come rest and leave behind the fray.

Reading Edith Wharton’s poem’ Elegy’, I thought I’d try and write something that used the same rhyming form. After another busy week, something on rest seemed appropriate.
(20.09.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Jeffrey Hamilton on Unsplash

Poem 352 – The Slide

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The source of so many lessons:
Do not climb up the slope
or throw yourself from the top.
Take your go in turns
and don’t push others off.
Use your head but always
descend the slide feet first.
Make sure the way is clear
before taking flight.
Expect to be involved
in a collision if you play at the bottom.
Toy cars pushed down with force
do not have workable breaks…

It was Toddlers this morning, which always makes great people watching, especially if the smaller variety!
(13.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024

Poem 98 – Innocence

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Do you recall those hazy childhood days,
Those lazy endless freedom days outside?
The den we made together in the hedge,
Found at the bottom of our road, our world?
Behind it stood a farmer’s field in which,
We used to scatter, hide within the grain.
I wonder if he ever saw us there,
And turned a blind eye to our escapades?
The pylons, alien, stood tall and strong,
Tempting investigation but warnings,
Upon ‘the box’ made us fearful. Likewise,
We never played with matches, afraid of death.
This was our kingdom, on our bikes we reigned.
The rules were ours, no adults interfered,
Until exhausted, dinner called us home,
Across the border full of tales to tell.

Was it really as I remember it, with blue skies all year and endless hours to play? Probably not, but the sense of that is strong.
(26.02.22)

© Ben Quant 2022