Tour de France

Poem 635 – An Ode to Mount Ventoux

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Ventoux, on whom legends are made,
Your mythical mountain slopes loom high.
Reaching beyond the trees, your lunar
Landscape, stark and steep, melds sky
And space, a place where heroes race:
Poulidour, Merckx, Pantani, Virenque,
You gifted glory to their wins.
Pogačar battled, Chris Froome ran,
Forever Simpson cycles on,
But you, Ventoux, remain the true
Pinnacle, the hero of le Tour.

I only caught up with yesterday’s stage in the Tour de France this morning, a stunning stage of full blooded racing, but as always, the lingering image will always be not the riders but the mount itself.
(23.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Lucas Gallone on Unsplash

Poem 622 – Brake!

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A clash of wheels and crash of bikes,
As cyclists slide and the peleton crumples.
Collarbones snap as bodies fly,
Time stands still while bike frames cartwheel.
The road fights back and tarmac argues,
Sharp gravel causes sparking metal.
A country stops and holds its breath
And anxious, waits for dust to settle.

Another gripping day in the Tour, but with a brutal crash.
(11.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Mathias Reding on Unsplash

Poem 621 – Too Hot!

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More poems on le Tour you say?
It may have to wait another day.
It’s too hot you see, too hot for me,
I don’t know how they do it!
Relentless peddling in the heat
Remorselessly chasing as they compete
For the yellow jersey, at the end of the journey,
As only one can don it!

Yesterday’s poem provoked the comment that there should be more poems on the Tour de France. A silly response at the end of a hot day.
(10.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Christian Chrome on Unsplash

Poem 620 – Heroes of the Peleton

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Djamolidine Abdoujaparov,
LeMond and Bernard Hinault,
Sean Kelly, Yates and Robert Miller,
Pantani, Eddy Merckx, Jens Voight
Mark Cavendish, Boardman, Stephen Roach,
Geriant Thomas, Thomas Voeckler,
Cipollini, Induráin,
These names are framed within my mind
True heroes of the peleton

Some of the cyclists on the Tour de France whose wonderful names and heroics will always remain with me.
(09.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Stefan Scheepmaker on Unsplash

Poem 618 – Le Tour (or Getting In My Excuses)

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Le Tour has started
With its spills and its thrills,
Broom wagons, bunch sprints,
Great rivalries, myths.

The peleton charges
For mile upon mile,
Up impossible climbs,
Down crazy descents.

And as a result
I’m somewhat distracted
When watching the highlights
This poem must stop.

My daily rhymes might become a little more perfunctory over the next few weeks…
(07.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Tom Sam on Unsplash

Poem 246 – Project Thirty-Five

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The camera slows.
Time passes frame
by frame. Our eyes
are fixed, breath held.
Momentarily
the journey’s forgotten
and all is now.
The missile fires
and threads its path
through raging blood
and wheels to close
upon the mark.
Released,
the crowd explodes.

History was made today as Mark Cavendish won his 35th stage on the Tour de France, the most anyone had achieved. Astonishing.
(03.07.24)

© Ben Quant 2024

Poem 138 – The Sprint

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A clicking cadence
Of whirring wheels
Flung bidons bounce
Preparing for pace
At last the lead outs
Peel to reveal
The gurning grimace
As riders rush
One final fling
Across the line
Hands held high
In taking the triumph
To banging barriers
And cheering claps
…Or heavy, hang,
In final defeat

This year’s Tour de France was one of the most exciting I’ve watched, gripping from end to end. Watching it has been an annual ritual for most of my life, and as this season’s joins the memories of others, here’s a verse written in celebration of the sprint (although my favourite sprinter, was sadly absent this year).
(28.07.22)

© Ben Quant 2022
Photo by Pixabay: https://www.pexels.com/photo/high-angle-view-of-people-on-bicycle-248547/