A Quandary for the Agea

He sat in his chair

Approaching his ninetieth year,

He sat there with thoughts

Of children he propagated

And helped to raise,

With deep regrets for a broken first

Marriage so long ago.

He sat there with blurred and vivid images

Litigating, over and again what had been,

The whirlwinds withstood

The ebb and flow of tides,

Those colorless times of mediocrity,

The basking in sun-filled days,

Charting entries in both black and red,

Enumerating his losses and gains

Ah, the biting ledger of life is a balancing

Of entries and accountability which

Brought him here to this

Approaching his ninetieth year.

He sat in his chair

With grieving memories of his departed

Second wife nestled snugly by his side,

With thoughts of a broken family

His boarding school childhood

During the Great Depression—

What will become of me?

Uncertain destinations too

Marching through the muck and mire,

The wholesale carnage of World War Two.

He sat in his chair, dizzied by the swirl

Of Creation’s Cosmic Calamity, debating

The ludicrous line between dream and reality.

The joke is on me—

Remember the myriad dead-end jobs,

Remember the moves

From city to city,

Remember the knocking 1960 Plymouth Fury,

The flat tires and profanities,

Remember the seedy motels,

The flashing neon bar signs

The dirty gin martinis,

The intoxicated nights spent alone,

Remember  pot-holed Highway 40

Remember Eisenhower

And Tricky Dick Nixon,

Remember TV's Gunsmoke

And Victory at Sea,

Who on Earth, basking in Heaven

Or ablaze in Hell,

Who of sound mind and warm heart

Will ever remember me?

He sat in his chair

Softly caressing

The sweet poodle lying motionless in his lap,

His faithful companion of so many years

Who had died just hours ago.

He sat there, approaching his ninetieth year,

A diminished flesh and bone

Headstone memorial, engraved with the cause

Of everything that every was—

The pious, the petty and the profane.

And then the inevitable perennial question arises

Which comes in time to the horizon event of black hole
Singularity inherent in the mind of all mankind,
Indeed the mystery

Of all mysteries yet to be revealed:

Is this the beginning of a new universal eternity, or is it

Simply a spontaneous spaghettification at the end?

As a young man he had a dream of pursuing a career,

Perhaps in the Science of Cosmology where a million
Years count for very little at all.

Chris Hanch 1-31-17

Food for Thought

The pages of the book turn yellow, yet

The poet’s words remain faithful in ink.

The child who crawled yesterday stands

On wobbly legs to become a toddler

Today. Never again will the world be the

Same. My friends, there are losses each

Time the sun rises. History returns when

Stars light up the night. The minister sits

Down to write his sermon, and he realizes

It is time to retire. God whispers reminders

Of our mortality as dew evaporates from

Each blade of morning grass. Extraterrestrials

Have transmitted messages which will not

Be received until the Earth is swept clean.

If only we had known then what we know

Now, we may have spoken more thoughtfully

To our children before they left home. I cannot

Say what you may decide to do today, with

Whom you decide to sit beside and talk

About all which has been lost in the

Forgetfulness of dreams. Do you recall

That actor’s name, the one who played

Scarecrow in the original Wizard Of Oz?

There is so little time left to cover so many

Things, Dear Reader, so little time before

Church bells ring and the Wonderment

Disappears. The minister ended softy

With an Amen.

Chris Hanch 1-28-17

I Am

No further need to question what could have been.

The hour is late, and from this current State there

Is no turning back. I am what I am which in all

Likelihood is all that was ever meant to be for me.

To describe it for those who don’t know me and

For those of you who have this mindful image of

Me as a younger more vibrant and upright sort of

Guy, I present this current picture to flash across

Your mind’s eye—I could be that mangy old fox

Who stops halfway across the parking lot in the

Middle of the night, who looks around cautiously

Then silently limps away under the curtain of dark-

Ness without so much as a single word. It surely could

Have turned out a lot worse. What if I had been a Re-

Publican congressman up for re-election next term?

Chris Hanch 1-27-17

And What of Today?

How does one tell what kind of day it is? How will

One know a good day from the bad? Has Christmas

Passed recently or was it only in dreaming that you

Thought it had? Is it too early after awakening to

Conceptualize happy or sad? Something tells you

That the brain is ever vigil with its eyes ever open

Wide. Is it any wonder that you never really feel

Fully rested? You have the distinct impression that

Today, this very day, will be one of those filled with

Barbed-wire riddles for which there are no tolerable

Answers. In checking the calendar it’s clear you are

A month into the new year. And, by chance, should

The newly elected President embrace something

Humanely inspirational in one of his interviews, your

Cynical doubting and uneasiness could possibly be

Allayed. But, should he continue to hammer home

The building of a wall and banning the immigration

Of Muslim refugees, you’ll know that Christmas has

long since passed. And today, alongside your fellow

Countrymen, you have been forcibly made to bathe

In a corrosive communal shower of shame.

Chris Hanch 1-26-17

A Reminder for the Living Only

Again today, I am reminded of mortality and pain.

Consciously consider the gravity of life and the
Inevitable darkness of death, of how the living
Discuss the recently deceased—at least he or she

Is no longer suffering in pain. That sentiment is
Of no consolation to me for you see, if you can no
Longer realize the soothing comfort of relief in
Mind, muscle and joint, if you can no longer

Express the diminishing or slipping away of pain,
What would be the benefit in dying except to
Bequeath to others the space you had previously
Occupied here in this life on Earth? In all reality

Pain shall never follow the dead to the grave; for
The living the feeling of all that is possible shall
Ever remain. I most loved and appreciated a tooth-
Ache after the throbbing and excruciating molar

Had been removed. In life there can be sighs of
Relief; in death the last breath erases the history of
Miseries, and affords glorious easements from all
Pain ever known. I, myself, had my rotten teeth

Extracted while I was still alive. The other maladies
I am cursed with in my old age shall persist until my
final day. Oh, mind you, I can wait—hunched over
In pain, and hobbling along at a snail’s pace with

Precious time incrementally, relentlessly ticking away,
I can surely wait.

Chris Hanch 1-25-17

On the Other Side

The fairway at the golfcourse across the way is a place
Geese will parade until the golfers play through. Cars,
Busses and trucks spew and roar down Holmes Road—
Toyotas, Kias, BMWs, ocassionally a Chevy and Ford

As well. It’s morning, around 8 o’clock A.M., a moderate day,
Temperature, 50 degrees or so, a cloudy but mild January
Day. The weather people say this is the 3rd warmest winter
In a row world-wide. The Presidential Inauguration will

Consume all the space on many TV channels today. I and
Many others have issues with the person elected, so I shall
Not get involved with the pomp and pageantry, the parade of
Events televised today. What will be will be in any case, like

It or not. So today, the scene is set in my neck of the woods.
Things will certainly vary depending on your own neighbor-
Hood and particular point of view, but all around, it’s January
The same. Let the games begin. For whatever plays out in the

Arena today (as luck or good fortune have it), may we meet
Once again, hopefully still standing on the other side.

Chris Hanch 1-20-17

Beyond These City Walls

Just the other day in the early morning dawn

I saw a doe on the golf course across the street

From the apartment where I live.

Daily, I see and hear the honking of Canada Geese

Flying overhead. They land to feed and rest on the

Same golf course grass across the way.

I live in the city, and it’s a pleasurable experience

To see touches of nature penetrating the man-made

Surroundings of concrete, glass and steel.

Last night from my patio, two meteors streaked

Across the evening sky—welcomed visitors to my

Eyes from the beginning of time.

It is a comfort for me to know that out there,

Beyond these often crowded and blaring city walls,

The might of the Universe survives.

Chris Hanch 1-19-17

Who's to Blame?

It’s not the world’s fault. For years, millions upon millions of years

It has been giving its secrets away. You thought you understood; you

Naively believed you had it all figured out. So you quit digging, one

Day just threw away the spade and moved on. How were you to know

That all along there were precious metals buried beneath your feet? You

Had always been enamored with shiny objects scattered randomly across

The ground. For a while you were content, but then one day your next

Door neighbor strikes gold in his back yard. And he always seemed the

Simple, kind of scruffy, unsophisticated, ordinary sort, no one special—

Drives a rusted-out, used car, and wears a friggin’ Timex watch to tell

Time. What were the odds he would strike it rich, and right next door to

You all that time? Let’s not mince words—call it envy or luck of the draw.

It’s not the world’s fault. For years you payed attention, believed the keys

To the kingdom were well within your reach. And now this, your neighbor?

Now, where in hell is that damn spade you threw away?

Chris Hanch 1-18-17

Where I am Today

Neither the brave nor ambitious history of Alexander the Great

Will lead me into battle today.

Were he alive today, Picasso could fill a canvass with abstract forms,

And still captivate art critics around the world.

Beethoven, Chopin and Mendelssohn are kept alive through their

Music which plays yet today, and shall for many years to come.

I read by Edison’s light today, chuckling ironically that it requires

The alternating current of his rival, Tesla, to function electrically.

I must not leave out the mentioning of women in my life without

Whom, for better or worse, I would not be where I am today.

Being old and gray, I‘ve decided to go with Hemingway today, set

Adrift In a bountiful sea of words, tantalizing bait and hook behind me,

Trolling patiently for a strike. (And blast it, wouldn't you know, I've
left the damn sunscreen at home!)

Chris Hanch 1-17-17

Image

In my younger years, looking in the morning mirror before

Heading out the door, bound and determined and with

A coach’s pep-talk attitude before the big game, I would

Say to myself, “Let’s do this! Lets go out there and get this

Thing done! At least during those days filled with hope, dreams

And youthful invigoration, I would often consider every day

A payday even if my personal inspirational gain was minimal.

Today, retired and approaching my seventieth year at this game,

(relating a modified version of the original aspiration), I now see

An old coot currently opposing me in the mirror. “I don’t know

What you’ve done to the young man who used to stand in that

Exact same place (I admonish), but I need to say that if you persist

In representing me this way, you’d best get off your boney ass

Today and at least brush that scraggly hair. And for heaven’s sake,

Man, put on a damn decent shirt!”

Chris Hanch 1-14-17

In Most Cases

The gavel of justice falls,

Once, twice, three times.

“Order, order, order in the

Court!” the judge demands.

And that’s what I can recall—

This sinister, unattached and

random thought which just

this morning ran uninvited

through my mind. Could

this be an entree’ of words,

a vague inkling of that which

perhaps may lead me to the

line or two of poetry I seek?

“Guilty as charged!” the

foreman of the jury blurted

out with a repugnant growl.

And that, my friends, is

about as far as my delirium

ventured before I was led

out of the courtroom in hand-

cuffs. I could actually feel

the chill of steel wrapped

tightly around my wrists

as I continued to proclaim

my innocence...well, for the

most part (hypothetically).

Chris Hanch 1-13-17

In the Moment

Around me, things near and dear, familiar and rarely reached,

Books, artwork, dusty shelves and nooks, nick-knack reminders

Of past lives, veteran things like me which managed to come so

Far, making it worn and aged but safely to this place, two small

dogs, the younger with a stuffed toy exploring squeaker and fiber

filled guts, the elder lazily lounging on the late afternoon couch,

And I with my thoughts, rooting for words which would adequately

Place all of us in our proper and present state. Nothing, not even the

Dust is destined to remain forever the same. And winter, cold and

Gray, pressing its chill against the warmth of words and images

Secured here within, shall too eventually fade from the erstwhile

Memories of the moment encased in this fleeting time and place.

Chris Hanch 1-12-17

A Thought for Today

I awoke this morning bound and determined

to do something beneficially beautiful today.

I began by shutting my mouth, but then the

larger question came: What in heaven’s name

to do with my brain?

Chris Hanch 1-12-17

Persistence

If this present encounter of mine is merely a re-incarnated example of some past life, as several existential philosophies suggest, then I submit—It seems blatantly obvious to

Me that I have been recycled with an acute dilemma indeed. For as fate would have it, the same lame-brain maladies from my previous existence continue to persist quite doggedly.

Chris Hanch 1-9-17

Blame

I could blame Nature or the Creator for my less than stellar looks—

The cockeyed arrangement of eyes, nose and ears, the twisted and

Pursed lips which ingratiate my head and face.

I could blame my parents and teachers for the trivial drivel and neurosis

Which infect my brain. It may have been the “Please” and “Thank Yous”

I did and did not say which brought me to this place.

I could blame William the Conqueror for winning the Battle at Hastings in

1066, an indelible date and place my mind can’t erase. I could blame the

Electoral College for electing Donald Trump as President of the United States.

I could blame flawed genetics or poor nutritional choices for my warped and

Deteriorating physical and mental state. Misconducted relationships, arthritic

Shoulders and hips—Lord knows, there’s plenty of blame to go around.

I am willing to accept my share of shit which has taken place, but with

Absolute surety I can say, it was not I who clogged the toilet this morning:

You see, I have been constipated now for several days.

Chris Hanch 1-7-17

The Flash

We can only cover that which we know, and bemoan
Or ignore that which we don’t. This leaves billions
Upon billions of stars never mentioned in poems.
And I’m sorry, I’ve either forgotten or never knew

Your name in the first place. So, why should I be
Distressed and upset that there are too many mysteries
Left lying beneath the gravid granite stone? I feel like
The depressed geologist who neglected to reveal a link

Between you, me and some grand universal theme. Did
You happen to see that sudden meteor flash in last night’s
Western sky? Its light was bright, but came to a fiery end
In less than a second.

Imagine, billions of years...and in a flash, gone just like that!
Now consider you and me, universally speaking. No wonder                                         There is so much grieving among those who survive.

Chris Hanch 1-6-17

In Darkness

There is something about the mystery of Darkness.

Some of us who have grown old in our ways

Prefer morning, and that is easy to understand—

A new day, another chance given, or perhaps the

Familiarity of more of the same. I for one have

Found a closeness with the night. Every day must

Have its end, and the sun’s setting portends a

Cooler and calmer end. It’s the lover you meet

In that dark and mysterious place which is forbid-

Den in daylight. The less you see with your eyes

The more sensitive the touch, the more passionate

The embrace, the more meaningful and sincere

The whispers. Come closer midnight of reckoning.

The ocean of night holds no light. It is there I shall

Find my escape. To the mystery of Darkness I must 

Submit; in the arms of Darkness, I shall spend my

Eternity; with Darkness as my lover, I harbor no fear.

Chris Hanch 1-5-17

2017

What’s another year when you’ve reached a certain age,

When you’re not physically and mentally able to perform

As your now evaporated youth once propelled you? Should

You live long enough to realize what has happened to you

Over time, you will certainly understand what I mean.

Sure, faulty and unwilling hips can be replaced, but then

What to do with the buckling knees? And then there’s the

Bladder thing and...well, no need to go into the litany of

Infirming maladies. Suffice it to say, my mountaineering

And marathon days are over. And what are my plans for

The new year? Frankly, I must see where my state of mel-

Ancholia happens to lead. More mindless Facebook and

Rerun-TV is more than likely. All-in-all, 2017 looks to be

Promising for the independantly wealthy, the socially and

Politically motivated who happen to be more vigorously

Energized than I happen to be. But thanks for asking,

Appreciate your taking time to drop by. Maybe next time

(if there should be a next time) we can discuss my involment

With the past century which in the fondest of memories holds

A lot more interest for me. Recall the first moon landing?

Perhaps you read about it in history. Now that was really

Something! “One small step for man...” And at the time,

They too were incumbered by far less gravity. Remember?
And of course there was The Second World War, without

Which, in all likelihood, I would have never been born.

Chris Hanch 1-1-17