At the play tonight
Gandalf sat down behind me
And magic happened
Went to see the fantastic Nicola Walker tonight in The Unbelievers. Ian McKellen was also in the audience.
(22.11.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Theatre
Poem 313 – Restricted View
Behind a post, up in the gods,
Feet by my teeth and knees tucked in.
Head near the ceiling, bag on lap,
I’m breathing fast, the air is thin.
Twisting hard to see the view
As music fades and lights are dimmed.
But I don’t care, as curtains rise,
A hush descends, the show begins.
In the West End tonight to see a show. This poem written in haste before we were told to turn our mobiles off.
(05.10.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Poem 231 – Opening Act
Serial splashes mark dog walkers passing.
One whooping swan flies overhead alone;
its powerful wings, outstretched and proud,
propel with purpose. I wonder at its passing.
The weary winter sun ascends reluctant
from its cloudy bed, as do commuters,
cocooned within their padded hats and coats.
The lake sits, an empty stage awaiting the
entry of its residents, as does the day,
whose curtains open up before me.
This was written after accompanying my son on his morning ride to catch the commuter train to work.
(09.01.24)
© Ben Quant 2023
Original photo by Allie Reefer on Unsplash
Poem 82 – The Magic Word
You’re wrong to say magic does not exist
How do I know? I’ve seen it for myself
I’ve seen it in the power of verse to change
An outlook with a skillful choice of words
A clever phrase or metaphor provokes
New meaning formerly concealed, unknown
Whilst written symbols move knowledge across
Invisible mind bridges out of view
Bold stories pluck our eyes, transplanting them
Imagination thus breeds empathy
Whilst in the theatre players exercise
Surgery, switching hearts and souls
So hesitate before inscribing views
Articulate your words aloud with caution
They’re incantations not just spoken sounds
True magic not fantastic fabrication
(30.01.22)
© Ben Quant 2022
Poem 19 – Globe Spell
To compose an ode in honour of The Bard
Whose famed lines ensnare hearts
From stages encircling this precious globe
As well as from upon it
Is a task too high to reach
Instead I shall write in praise of those
Whose mouths have uttered his enchantment
Weaving spells through speech inspired
To whisk us from this mundane life to
Distant islands, courts and faery realms
Owning this sacred space these mortals become
As gods with creator’s power to form
The world anew for a few brief acts
Transforming landscapes without and
Landscapes within
And here we dwell until the final cheer
Echoes from its stalls and as one
We rise in awe to praise before
Returning to our mortal homes
His lingering whisper remains
Shakespeare’s Globe is one of my favourite places, a haunt where magic still happens.
(29.10.21)
© Ben Quant 2021
Ode for the Day 