Whol Once Again

 

His wife lie semi-comatose in bed at the hospice

for the dying, unable now to respond to him.

Early that morning, he was her first visitor of the

day. As he spoke to her, she would occasionally

open her eyes halfway and without as much as a

whimper, close them once again.

With her mouth half opened, he noticed that her

dentures were missing. The night nurse must have

removed them, possibly to help her breathe easier.

He knew how conscientious she was about anyone

including him seeing her without her teeth. He went

into the bathroom and found the dentures on the

bathroom shelf over the sink.

Even in her semi-conscious state and on her death bed,

he knew how embarrassed she would be to be seen

without her teeth. One last wish, her husband figured,

had she been able to have one final vestige of her vanity

it would be to be remembered with her complete set

of teeth. Plastic or the enameled originals was of no

consequence anymore.

She opened her eyes halfway as her husband gently positioned

the uppers then the lowers. Without a whisper of gratitude or

regret, he knew that she knew as she peacefully closed her eyes

again. And for the very last time, she was whole once again.

                                                 -30-

Chris Hanch 10-29-2022

Relief

 

As an avowed non-theist,

it is comforting to know

that at least politics, religion

and the concept of lying will

no longer matter, and that

the timeless expanse of

Eternity runs commercial

free, where even the most

ardent ill-at-ease can in-

inevitably and forever

rest in peace .

             -30-

Chris Hanch 10-29-2022

More Lessons Learned

 

75-years I’ve been here on this fine Earth,

and there is so much left to learn. At my

age with so little time left, I am willing to

learn new things I managed to miss along

the way.

Why just the other day as I watched a

program on TV, the announcer defined the

difference between jail and prison, two

entities with which I have been familiar

most of my life. Jail is a place where a

suspect is confined behind bars, supposedly

considered innocent until proven guilty in a

court of law.

If and when convicted, that person may

receive a sentence and sent to prison. This

is a distinction which escapes many, previ-

ously including me. That interesting tidbit

of information at my age and declining

state in life is unlikely to serve me at this

stage of the game.

Given my disabilities and with limited societal

contact, my chances to be considered either a

suspect or a convict are slim to none. It did,

however, give me fodder for this piece I pre-

sent to you here today.

Another revelation I was exposed to recently

pertained to autumn and the colorful change

of leaves which occurs on deciduous trees

this time of year. Did you know that the red,

yellow, orange and gold colors are the natural

and permanent hues of their respective trees?

And it is the chlorophyll which changes them

to green. As the chlorophyll dissipates in the

fall due to fewer hours of sunlight and cooler

weather, the leaves revert to their original colors.

So, there you have it and for what it’s worth to

you who are still vital and active in society.

At no charge, I pass along this sage advice—Do

your best to stay crime free, avoiding either jail or

prison. And for all its worth, enjoy the turning

colors of autumn leaves. Also, use spell check,

chlorophyll is a tricky word to spell.

                            -30-

Chris Hanch 10-27-2022

random access

 

deep dish pizza

pan-fried steak

an unusual way

to begin the day

with poetry

you say

bump on a log

harley hog

allow me

to start

all over again

slide trombone

home alone

find your own way

to begin the day

ferry cross the mersey

is the only way

to get there

from here

sans caps

without punctuation

an occasional rhyme

at times

is the process

i choose

bullwinkle j moose

mother goose

thats much better

its all a meaningless

bunch of crap anyway

close the door

on your way out

             -30-

Chris Hanch 10-26-2022

The Nurse's Visit

 

The nurse practitioner from the VA

has an appointment with me at my

apartment today—yearly physical,

you know.

I’m 75, still alive with arthritic pains

here and there. I have smoked some

60 of my years away, and I have

managed to wake up yet another

day today.

Can’t expect much more than that

given my poor condition and advan-

cing age. I could have told the good

nurse so over the phone . But VA

protocol demands a patient visit

face-to-face on an annual basis.

So, in deference to her health and well

being, I’ll slide the patio door open

and air the place out before she gets

here.

She has other people to see after me

and other places to go. Not me, though.

I look forward to lighting up after she’s

gone. At my age, you see, it’s the simple

things I have to look forward to.

Seems to me, good health these days 

of my old age, and nurse’s visits from

the VA just get in the way.

                     -30-

Chris Hanch 10-25-2022

Something about Flowers

 

Without flowers, where would we be?

Limited to wishing happy anniversary

or Valentine’s Day. A flowerless society

would be lacking rainbow bouquets of

color to see and aromatic fragrances to

breathe.

Without flowers, sending our regards,

best wishes and condolences would be

woefully insufficient when expressing

our sincerity.

Without silver bells or cockle shells,

how would Contrary Mary’s garden

grow? How would it be that in song,

Everything’s Coming up Roses? And

in biblical verse, without the Garden

of Eden, where else on Earth would

Adam and Eve be?

Why, without flowers, birds, insects and

blossoms would not pollinate and thrive.

Bees would waste away uselessly confined

without sweetness to their hives. And

lovers would not use Honey as a term of

endearment to ingratiate their lives.

                          -30-

Chris Hanch 10-23-2022

Motivation Misplaced

 

I feel motivated today.

But confusion and indifference

came into play.

And I’ll be damned

if I know which direction

to take.

Oh well, tomorrow perhaps.

Old saying applies, you know—

tomorrow is another day.

                   -30-

Chris Hanch 10-18-2022

Not Half the Man I Used to Be

 

As the Beetles claimed, “I’m not half

the man I used to be.” That lyric fits

me most suitably.

Due to my life, all the twists and turns,

the ups and downs, the ins and outs,

steadfastness and turn abouts, I have

indeed turned out to be the man I was

meant to be.

It was by chance and luck of the draw

that I arrived here at the ripe old age

in my 75^th year.

And lets face it folks, half the man is

a damn sight better than a third, a

quarter or none at all.

Half the man, old and gray, beats starting

out all over again from here and heading

back the other way.

I’d much rather live with the inevitable

which lies ahead of me than retake all

the mistakes I had made previously.

The whole me that used to be way

back when was not all that great. At

least I learned from what the film

industry refers to as my outtakes.

And believe you me, my film would

not win any awards or be rated PG.

                           -30-

Chris Hanch 10-16-2022

My Place

 

There are no archways at my place,

no crystal chandeliers, no marbled

foyers to receive heads of state nor

a grand ballroom to entertain dance

parties or lavish soirees. There is

no spiral staircase to descend with

regal pomp and ceremony.

No, none of that sprawling palatial

estate crap for me. I am a common

man with an unadorned simple plan,

occupying a modest place graced

with a few square feet, a head, a

sagging full-sized bed and narrow

Pullman kitchen at my command.

A subterranean pad for me, a modest

retreat with recliner and 24-inch TV

where my small pup and I can while

away the hours, 24/7 in the lap of un-

adorned, undisturbed luxury.

Call it a dive or a slice of heaven

here on Earth where dust is wel-

comed to lie in undisturbed har-

mony with my shaggy pooch and

the laid back, and unkempt likes

of me.

At least I don’t have fortune and

fame to blame for my died--in-the-

wool, carefree, unassuming attitude.

                        -30-

Chris Hanch 10-13-2022

The Old Tree of Memory (for John)

To the botanist or forest ranger,

the tree speaks of time and age.

Through wind, drought, forest

fire, lightning and lumbering,

some trees endure for centuries.

An old friend of mine turned 95

the other day. In my mind, I am

taken to way back when. I am

reminded of a time 40 years

ago when we were still young

and productive.

In my day dreaming and photos

taken over the years, I am reminded

of the many who have passed away,

the people and places which have

either aged considerably or have all

together been erased from the face

of the Earth.

And so it is, I sit here in my old

age strapped to the relentless yoke

of time. These days of retirement,

disabilities which have physically

and emotionally impaired me,

restrict and prevent my keeping

up with the frenetic and harried

pace of today’s society and change.

Daily on Facebook, however, I

post many of my photos, writings

and artworks from the past four

decades or so, capturing and

preserving some of the people

and places from life gone by.

And in doing so, the old tree

continues to grow. Images and

ideas are kept alive, hopefully

lending to a future of renewal

and prosperous growth—The

New Tree of Life seeded from

that which came before.

                     -30-

Chris Hanch 10-11-2020 

What the Puppy Does

 

Leaps and bounds

up and down

circling round and round

the puppy at play

tongue out

tail wagging all about

leaning forward

ready to pounce

four paws on the ground

             -30-

Chris Hanch 10-9-2022

This Day for Me

 

For me this day,

yet another along the way.

This day seemingly much

the same as many days

of “this and that” to follow,

this day to succeed and precede,

the minutes and hours passing,

adding to that which has been.

This day, a countdown, if you will,

to that which is yet to be.

For my pup this day, an exercise

in familiarity and consistency—

barking at every sudden noise,

yapping a warning to animals

large and small she sees on TV.

Begging for treats with every

meal I eat, she poops and pees

with predictable regularity.

And as for me,

the score I am writing

to accompany plays

on its own uniquely

as I add lyrically to

whatever the melody

of this day

turns out to be.

               -30-

Chris Hanch 10-6-2022

A One-eyed Frog and Me

A one-eyed frog in the mud.

A one-eyed frog in the mud

in front of me on the shore

of the pond, I could see.

I placed my hand over one eye

of mine and I too saw one-eyed

as the one-eyed frog in the mud

by the pond leapt into the water

prodigiously.

Curiously, I remained standing

one-eyed in the mud.

Eye-to-eye, one eyed each, the

frog and I apparently saw one

and other differently.

And in the blink of an eye,

and with a resounding splash

the one-eyed frog was gone.

For me, even one-eyed blind

that was plain to see.

                      -30-

Chris Hanch 10-5-2022

 

Emoji Me

 

It is indeed a sad day

when an emoji expresses

all you have to say. An

unsettling thought

indeed, emojis on the

headstone of my grave

with fondest regards

from those who out

of clever intent and

convenience may

have expressed with

visual brevity their

parting thoughts of me.

🤣🤣🤣

                -30-

Chris Hanch 10-2-2022

Conundrum

 

Ah, the audacity of life

going beyond its physical

and mental means. The

capability and agility

which are not functional

anymore, but nonetheless

continue to be.

Survivability, the stubborn,

tenacious brain sometimes

doesn’t appear to exercise

common sensibility.

There is a conundrum at play

here, folks, can’t you see?

The engine can no longer

drive the worn out, non-

operational machinery...

Dah!

Death makes perfect sense;

some aspects of life remain

a mystery to me.

                    -30-

Chris Hanch 10-1-2022