No time for rhyme today
and worse, no verse, at play
No, just one stanza, hardly
an extravaganza!
Busy day at church and on the road.
(02.08.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
No time for rhyme today
and worse, no verse, at play
No, just one stanza, hardly
an extravaganza!
Busy day at church and on the road.
(02.08.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
I’m trying to write a simple ballad,
A form of rhyming poem,
It uses lines with four accents,
Then three to move without relent,
Mix them together, let them ferment,
And the lines will keep on flowin’.
And now I’ve reached the second stanza,
It doesn’t seem so hard,
I’m certainly glad I gave it a go,
And tried it out, just never say no,
But now I fear I’ve reached my plateau,
I’ll never replace the Bard!
I’m reading Malcolm Guite’s terrific ‘Galahad and the Grail’ at the moment, which is written in ballad form. Rather than always alternating between 4 beats and 3 beats, he mixes it up, my favourite following the above rhyme and beat pattern. Thought I’d try it out, nothing serious this time but I may come back to it.
(30.05.26)
Tonight a crisply crafted stroke
Gave satisfaction in a well
formed line, brought pleasure not in verse
but household chores, the ironing…
Between work and home there’s not been much time for writing today
(22.04.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Aleš Čerin on Unsplash
A hasty haiku
To complete a busy day
Sequence not broken
Keeping up the daily habit…
(20.04.26)
© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
The day is done
My time has gone
To write a rhyme
That is much long-
er than this one
I’ve run out of day…
(29.09.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Mubashir Ahmad on Unsplash
Driving home today,
my brain has turned to mush,
I’ll be hard pushed to say
anything that makes sense.
The Sun did not relent,
remaining loud, despite
the cloud, that meant it was
not quite as hot as thought.
I’m writing as I ought,
but nothing much profound
is found, within my head,
for me to say today.
And so I think I’ll stop
and sleep the night away.
It wasn’t as hot as we thought it might be today, but driving home from visiting family frazzled me somewhat nevertheless.
(21.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Rajiv Bajaj on Unsplash
I only meant to write a poem,
A simple rhyme to celebrate the day,
A one off, no more than that.
I didn’t mean to blow the bloody doors off,
Or take the world by storm,
Or change the world one verse at a time.
On that score I guess I succeeded!
But here I am six hundred poems later
And it seems I’m unable to stop.
Like a wave that keeps on rolling,
I keep on washing stanzas on the shore,
And splashing innocent bystanders
With iambic spray or alliterative verse.
So here’s to rolling up my socks
And paddling in poetry
For just a little longer.
I had no idea that those few lines written for National Poetry Day in 2021 would be the start of something.
(19.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash
Poetry tonight?
That was my intention, but
Gardening won instead…
Self explanatory!
(18.06.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
My weapon is a melody,
My sharp sword is a verse,
My prayer a faithful missile fired
Across the universe.
Imagination changes lives,
And poems are armed with dreams,
Guthrie’s guitar killed fascists, yes
The truth will set us free.
The opening line came from today’s prayer meeting, which sparked off thoughts of Guthrie and The Notting Hillbillies version of The Weapon of Prayer.
(17.03.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Image: Al Aumuller/New York World-Telegram and the Sun (uploaded by User:Urban), Public domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Woody_Guthrie_2.jpg