Rivers

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 511 – The Living River

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Is this river alive?
I think so. She flows
along our valley birthing
life where e’er she goes:
the hazy clouds of flies
that flock this time of year,
the clacking coots upon
comical towering nests,
the dragonflies that briefly dart
by deer that stalk its edges.
Small fish flick within her
currents, whilst willows lean
admiring her fine looks.
Some days she dresses down
in sombre darkened brown,
in winter black and white,
but today the sun is out,
it’s time for brighter colours.
She is our giving mother
nurturing our valley
with her languid love
and flowing tender tears,
and whilst she does she sings
her lapping melody.
This river is alive,
of that there is no doubt.

I’ve been listening to the BBC’s adaptation of Robert MacFarlane’s ‘Is A River Alive?’ Living next to the River Lee (or Lea), I find it easy to grasp what he means.
(10.05.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 90 – The River

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It was cold that night
Was there snow?
Or was it frost?
I don’t recall
We walked along the river
You wore many layers
To keep out the chill
I laughed as later
You unpeeled them
Defrosting in the pub
We went out
Starting as friends
But by the time
We’d reached the end
An unspoken change
Had occurred
We paused. I spoke it
Should we add
Another couple
To the list?
You said yes
We held hands
Electrifying
You couldn’t see but
I was smiling
It’s funny how walks
Can be so significant
A sideways step
Into a space
To reflect
To be and to grow
Soon after that
We went on another
Again you said yes
Or at least
I think you did
You certainly
Smothered me
Down on my knees
By the Thames
Again we emerged
Once more transformed
There have been many
More walks since then
As now we explore
Life’s bubbling stream
Of chaotic rapids
And lazy eddies
Together
And I still enjoy
Unpeeling the layers
That make up you

A poem for Valentine’s day.
(14.02.22)

© Ben Quant 2022