Poem 897 – A Beginner’s Ballad

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)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Taha on Unsplash

Poem 553 – Driving in the Sun

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

Poem 551 – Six Hundred & Counting

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

Poem 457 – Armed with Art

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