Between a Boulder and a Hard Place

A boulder makes no sound lying flat upon the ground, holds

In its stillness a story yet untold. You have your beliefs, and

For all that is holy, that’s okay.

Let’s get back to that boulder, now dislodged from its spot.

What In heaven or on earth disturbed it in such a way as to

Remove it from the security of its place?

My friend, this is no time for inquiry, no place for prayer or

Undue delay. That boulder in motion aimed right at you couldn’t

Care less about your ideology or what you have to say.

You may have faith and trust in the Father, the Son and the

Holy Ghost, but this is science you're messin' with here.
Best get the hell out of the way!

Chris Hanch 12-14-16

Had I Been Born a Cowboy Instead

Had I been born a cowboy instead,

I would have had tales to tell about

Bucking broncos I rode and broke. Had

I been born a cowboy instead, I would

Fondly describe cattle drives, campfires

On the open range, calf and steer roping,

Fence-mending, branding and the like.

Had I been born a cowboy instead, I could

Have spent starry nights spinning fanciful

Yarns with my compadres with names

Like Slim, Montana and Cookie. Had I

Been born a cowboy instead, I would walk

Bowlegged from riding my horse all day.

I’d have creased leathery skin from those

Many years of exposure to sun, driving

Rain and wind. Instead, I need to explain

That this limp of mine is arthritis developed

Over time from prolonged sitting in a non

Adjustable office chair. My co-workers an-

Swer to the names William, James and Robert.

The only steer I’ve ever wrestled with was

A tough 10oz Sirloin at the Golden Corral

Buffet. And this here is a stick of Wriggley’s

Spearmint I’m a chawin’ on. Copenhagen's

A might too bitter and nasty for my taste.

Chris Hanch 12-13-16

All That I Know

Experience tells me that I know very little

Love tells me my chances are slim

Age tells with wisdom comes a price

My nose tells me something stinks

My ears tell me not to believe

My eyes see what they want to see

Time tells me that it’s getting very late

And still I prefer to wait

For what I do not know

For nothing in life is certain

Tomorrow the forecast is for snow

Yet the likelihood is only 40%

I’ll take my chances with a toss of the dice

Chris Hanch 12-12-16

The Tapestry of My Life

The tapestry of my life is nearly done. Unique to

Me, there are dropped stitches and conflicted patterns

Scattered throughout. One could say that those slip-ups

Represent the times I thoughtlessly failed as I took

My eye off the plan and subsequently missed the point.

There are imperfections in its design to be sure. I will

Not be awarded a blue ribbon for best in show, I know.

But the dog doesn’t care. He snuggles up to it anyway,

Seeking only the soft, woven warmth it provides. You

May not be impressed, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s

Fine. It is what it is, you see, and happens to be the best

I could do at the time. See that blue circle over there?

That was done on purpose.

Chris Hanch 12-8-16

A Wisdom with Age

I suppose that wisdom gained with age has little

to do with the capacity of learning what is new

with you in the world at large. (I for one wear the

gray and crumbling onslaught of my age well ex-

posed.) No, the sagaciousness gained over time

has more to do with how one best copes with the

aches and pains, the trials and tribulations of the

present everyday; and too, having an introspective

and respectful attitude for your accomplishments

and failures, for life’s memories, both good and bad.

Some folks have crammed a hell of a lot of exper-

ience into a relatively short lifetime span; others,

not so much. I rarely if ever compare myself with

the likes of Alexander the Great, Nelson Mandela,

Sonny and Cher or The Most Interesting Man in the

World. Fortune and fame for me took off on a red

eye flight long before I even reached the terminal.

So, you may be asking yourself where am I headed

with all this gibberish about old age and experience?

Well, don’t let the suspense run your blood pressure

up to unacceptable levels, my life’s travels will never

be chronicled by the likes of Ken Burns. And I won’t

be interviewed by Ellen or Charlie Rose. I have, how-

ever, lived through a thing or two which you ( being

of an ordinary milk-toast breed like me) may perhaps

find either relatable or modestly interesting.

For years I have written poetry and essays about many

places I have visited, both physically and emotionally.

I submit for your consideration a piece written in 2008

when I happened to be in a quite insecure and precar-

iously vulnerable place. Given your own personal story,

I sincerely hope you can relate.

Rented Room at Night

Some hope glows as I wonder,

Is 40-watts sufficient

To light this rented room of mine?

A nagging cough persists,

Coming from the apartment upstairs.

Death enters my dreams

In living surround-sound.

Which path of uncertainty

Brought me to this place,

This asylum for the dying?

Years before, I dropped out

Of high school

Before learning the lessons

Of my senior year,

And I missed out on

Attending the prom.

Something dark inside me

Rumble a deep hunger.

There is a large swirling black hole

At the center of my growing.

And yet, none-the-less, here I lie

Beneath the glowing yellow light

Edison left behind.

Chris Hanch 2-29-08

The Pacifist

I must say that I have become a pacifist in my old age,

Not because I have come to understand that most wars lead

To no good, or that I have come to believe that every living

Beast has a right to live in peace, but, by and large, due to a

Creaky weakness which has invaded my legs, making it

Difficult if not impossible for me to run away.

Chris Hanch 12-6-16

Beethoven's Pathetique

I don’t know why Beethoven’s Pathetique pleases me.

Perhaps I am enthralled with the word, Pathetique.

Could be the arrangement of notes, the stroke of keys.

Perhaps the early morning concordance of soul and brain

Comes into play. Mr. Coffee’s deep throated gurgling,

The aromatic smell of dark pleasures brewing,

My life as I have come to know it, who can say?

Chris Hanch 12-1-16