Poem 175 – Soundscape

The wind’s white noise cannons against my ears
along with percussive rattling of jostling trees.
A distant car alarm melds with an avian
sentry, sounding an urgent, shrill reveille.
The muffled sound of barking blends into
the lapping of the usually languid Lea.
Astride their balance bikes, delighted children
point out serendipitous discoveries.

A blowy day for a lunchtime stroll by the River Lea.

© Ben Quant 2023

Poem 163 – Morning Migration

Somewhere a switch is flicked, a catch released.
Eager luminescent salmon shoot
nocturnal traps, migrate the lofty spray,
a duvet stretched, inviting pillow plump.
Chasing behind, our newborn day.

A glorious pink sunrise picked out the teased out clouds this morning. Could have captured it with my phone, instead used words.

© Ben Quant 2023

Poem 161 – After the Rain


A Sunday afternoon stroll around the New River, Top Field and Baas Hill Common. Although the sky was blue and the sun was out, the waterlogged paths definitely required boots.

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Robert Zunikoff on Unsplash: https://unsplash.com/photos/ko7Tp_LyAt4

Poem 140 – Brother Sun (or The Summer of ’22)

Lethargy reigns, the air is all sucked out
We slope around the room, moving as little
As we can get away with, stultified
Regretfully wishing the time away, we long
For rain, an end to endless heat, but then
I know we’ll wish for sunny days once more

A companion to Poem 139 – Sister Moon. I know I said I was taking a bit of a break from writing to focus on my these, but I woke up with the first line in my head. It’s been a long hot summer…

© Ben Quant 2022
Photo by James Day on Unsplash

Poem 107 – An Angry Embrace

The storm did rage throughout that hateful night
Roiling, possessed by evil spirits’ anger
Tossing our ship about with frightful might

We prayed, the crew, in fear about our plight
Hoping our god might rouse from his deep slumber
The storm did rage throughout that hateful night

Naive, a cry, ‘I see a shining light!’
Giddy despite the gale becoming grimmer
Tossing our ship about with frightful might

Alas, this hope it seems was simply spite
The taunting glimmer just St. Elmo’s fire
The storm did rage throughout that hateful night

And those who climbed towards it felt its bite
The storm shredding once glorious sails to tatters
Tossing our ship about with frightful might

So I, the priest, read out our ship’s last rites
As to the deep, dark, depths it did surrender
The storm did rage throughout that hateful night
Tossing our ship about with frightful might

My son is doing a writing course at university and has been given the task of writing a ‘villanelle’. Thought I’d have a go. Villanelles have a formal structure of three line stanzas, where the first and third lines of the first take it in turns to be the last line of those that follow. The final stanza has four lines, with this alternating pair becoming the third and fourth lines here. The first, third and in the last stanza’s case, fourth lines rhyme, as do all the second lines. Got that?

© Ben Quant 2022

Poem 94 – Mercury’s Lament

Remember Freddie’s rhapsody
Nine classic minutes long to bring
Bombastic rock, triumphant pomp
The opera to the masses, darling

Before the storm a solo voice
With purity, soaring lament
In contrast with the bitterness
Contained within words of regret

Then crashing thunder interrupts
Violent vocals kaleidoscope
Inner turmoil, chaotic nonsense
Soundscape immense and intricate

Before Beelzebub attacks
The stargazer magnificent
Looks out beyond this racous gale
As finally the man repents

Be still cries out the axe wielder
And thus the storm is brought down low
Priorities fall into place
And whisper
…anyway the wind blows

This was going to be a poem about Storm Eunice, but slipped into something quite different.

© Ben Quant 2022

Poem 61 – The Touch of Frost

The touch of frost caresses me, running
It’s icy fingers across my earthly skin
And tracing limb and fold they penetrate
With cold embrace that draws from me a moan
Its bitter kiss breathes chill into my bones
An intimacy that lasts until love thaws

We woke today to find the outside world white with frost, a magical scene, at least from the warm indoors that is!

© Ben Quant 2021

Poem 31 – Rain Spoils Play

Photographic filter
Washing our colours
Not dressed for success
But draining vitality
Fine mist descends
Depressing the day

The swoosh of the surf
Succeeds every car
Not Bondai beach
But oil residue
Running in gutters
Raised by rubber

Persistent it penetrates
Seeping with ease
Damping through clothing
Collecting between shoulders
Coldness that shivers
Wrinkles our toes

Last day in self-isolation and looking forward to being released. Sat in my office, however, the view isn’t appealing with the fine drizzle looking set for the day. Hope it clears by tomorrow.


© Ben Quant 2021