Poem 270 – Lilian’s Boast

Last night was the night
that the storm came to town
shouting, ‘I’ll huff and I’ll puff,
and I’ll blow your tent down!’
But we weren’t deterred
by the threats that she made
we gathered here regardless
ignored her tirade.
So she huffed, and she puffed,
with all of her might,
she blew at the tent,
through all of the night,
it wibbled and wobbled
like one of mum’s jellies,
it lost all its structure
like a middle aged belly,
but every single time
that she thought she had won
it would pop right back up
to the place it’d begun!

Storm Lilian visited Greenbelt last night, with 40mph winds. The star this morning is a slow one as the site is made safe – much festival kit was not put up beforehand just in case. It’s not going to put use off though!
(23.08.24)

© Ben Quant 2024

Poem 232 – Winter Morning’s Ride

It’s dark, and as I mount my saddle to
ride out, my limbs are stiff and unresponsive.
The dawning sun perches upon the valley
hill-line and casts its weary eye abroad.
Below it, ripples catch alight and burn
in contrast to their frost-drained surroundings.
The cold inveigles itself uninvited,
kicks off its shoes, and squats amongst my bones.
My muscles clench like bailiffs, but they fail
in their eviction efforts. It persists.
As fingers burn there is no choice but to
stoically press on in imitation.
At home, the heat violently awakes me.

It has been a bitterly cold week, in which I have been out a number of times on my bike. Although the surroundings are beautiful, it hurts.
(18.01.24)

© Ben Quant 2024

Poem 228 – Moses Goes for a Drive

There’s a river where the road is, a
rolling, writhing, river brown that
snakes around my wheels and threatens
to submerge me, drag me down. This
river wasn’t here before, it
caught me by surprise. Before I
had a chance to turn away, it
surged up to my fearful doors. No
turning back, I am committed,
I must stay the course. I hold my
breath, steady the wheel, lift up my
staff and hope and pray. Be bold and
trust that God makes waves and once more
saves the day.

On the 9th day of Christmas I found myself driving in Nottinghamshire through flooded roads brought about first by Storm Gerrit and then Henk. I found myself wondering what the consequences of mingling an electric car with flood water might be…
(04.01.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Original photo by Chris Gallagher on Unsplash

Poem 226 – The Sixth Day

The ghost of Gerrit grumbles through our garden,
its urgent whispers whipping leaves away
in merry dances, diving down amongst the
branches before rebounding skywards.
Above, the languid light retreats, leaving
our cloud shrouded landscape down below;
its inhabitants hiding behind curtain covered
windows, seeking warmth from winter’s cold.

A piece of alliterative verse inspired by a gloomy day between Christmas and New Year, with the weather still affected by the tail end of Storm Gerrit.
(30.12.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo adapted from Doug Linstedt on Unsplash

Poem 211 – Ascending Donard

Booted we seek to climb,
assert ourselves, impose
our will. Slieve Donard howls.
Fierce tears define its shape,
sharpen it’s angst and contours.
Woken, it’s rage defies
our rise and pushes back.
Determined, we persist
and brace against the gale.
Our worlds compress until,
heads bowed, each walks alone.
This wild and reckless peak
doesn’t surrender meekly.

Recently I met with flatmates from university days to go walking in Northern Ireland. Our first walk was a climb to the peak of Slieve Donard, the highest point in Northern Ireland. The weather raged as weather should on such a walk. It was truly magnificent!
(30.10.23)

© Ben Quant 2023

Poem 202 – A What3Words Haiku

Temperature plummets
and so whimsical winter
makes.poetic.snows

This was actually written way back before ‘Poem 1‘, but using what3words to locate my car and tent at Greenbelt reminded me of it. The gates and signposts in Lea Valley have what3words identifiers on them to help locate them. One not far from us is the magical ‘makes.poetic.snows‘. This was begging to be put in verse (but hopefully not into practice, not too soon anyway…)
(01.09.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Jessica Fadel on Unsplash

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.
(24.03.23)

© 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.
(19.01.23)

© Ben Quant 2023

Poem 161 – After the Rain

Water…
    Unruly
        Miscreant
            Trespasser
        Trickles
    Oozes
Seeps
    Bursts
        Untamable
            Circumvents
        Boggy
    Puddles
Stream
    Pervasive
        Persistent
            Chaotic
        Downwards
    Gurgling
Sweeps

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.
(15.01.23)

© 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…
(15.08.22)

© Ben Quant 2022
Photo by James Day on Unsplash