Wednesday Today

Forgive me today for not thinking of you;

Forgive me for not mentioning your name.

I have other things on my mind to unwind.

It seems that today it will take a lot, more

Than a swift kick-start to get me going. My

Usual routine of coffee and breathing are

Not inspiring enough to move me. The mold

Of the “same old” has encrusted my every

Thought and word. Wednesday is Wednesday

Is Wednesday, hundreds, thousands, a muddled

Mess of midweeks all the same. I can’t see

Thursday coming soon enough to save me.

And, Friday is two lifetimes away. This grip of

Sameness is so tight even the great Beethoven

Cannot escape. (Death most certainly promises

To be that way.) His compositions keep playing

Over and over again. He hasn’t come up with

Anything new in 190-years. Perhaps what I’m

Going through today is a phase, could be merely

A practice session for the boring and mundane

Inevitability of Wednesday Eternities to come.

Today is today. Forgive me for not thinking of

You or mentioning your name. I can’t just lace

Up my shoes and walk away.

Chris Hanch 6-7-17

Heroes of Olde

Everyone needs a hero, some two

Fisted, gun-slinging defender of justice

Who, at the drop of a hat, would come

To the rescue. There is no end of problems

And situations which cry out for help.

As a child I recall my Aunt Molly (who

Was watching my brothers and me for the

Day) telling us when we complained that

Children don’t have problems. Just you

Wait until you become adults. Then

You will find out what trouble really is.

I was not relieved by that bit of news.

What would the Lone Ranger do? How

Would Hopalong Cassidy right the wrongs

Of the world? Everyone knows that there

Are bad guys out there at the ready to do

Decent folks harm. I needed a hero now

And couldn’t wait a hundred years for my

Adulthood to kick in. I had no choice but

To strap on my six-shooter and put on my

Lone Ranger hat and mask. I crammed all

The caps I had into my jean’s pockets and

Walked bravely toward the door. On my

Way out, Aunt Molly reminded me that

Dinner would be at six o’clock sharp;

Don’t be late. Politely, I tipped my hat, 

“Yes, Ma'am.”

Chris Hanch 6-6-17

A Message from Planet Earth

Have you ever paused for a moment,

Stopped what you were doing or planned

To do? Have you taken a bit of time to give

Some thought to what it is the Earth has

Set out to do on any given day? There

Are mountains to build along the Pacific

Rim. Vast tracks of land need shifting

From Asia to Africa and along the North

American Plate. Hawaii needs a new

Island added to its archipelago; the African

Shores needs some coastal cliffs taken away.

Land may be land now; the seas may stake

Their claim, but everything is subject to

Change. I am the Earth in charge with

The power and might to rearrange. Build

Your cities, establish your societies where

You will, my tectonic ideas for perpetual

Renewal will eventually sweep your grandest

Plans away. Don’t blame the last Ice Age

Or the that Chicxulub happening on me. I too

Must submit to the solar and cosmic powers

That be. You humans figure a few dozen

Favorable millennia in a row are a sign that

You are in control. It took me millions of

Years just to lift up the Himalayas and carve

Out the Grand Canyon. Well, my friends,

That ain’t nothin’. It took just one oversize

Hunk of rock to wipe out the dinosaurs which

Roamed my surface in relative safety for

Millions of years. I’d suggest you quit your

Reprehensible and inconsiderate treatment

Of each other and me. Better show some

Respect and gratitude should you be allowed

To make it even through one more day. Oh,

And by the way, this time I didn’t even touch

On the topic and ramifications of man-made

Climate change.

Chris Hanch 6-5-17   

Time and Tide

The puppy with no collar has bonded with its mother.

Cries of the dispossessed can not be heard in a vacuum.

The pin drops, but rarely lands on its head.

How many strikes of the hammer must the blacksmith take?

The owl spots its prey in the depths of night.

The desert holds secrets fertile plains cannot explain.

The two-lane highway wanting more was expanded to four.

Sometimes a line cries out to find a rhyme; and sometimes not.

You have read all the above, and now you ask for what?

Picasso hasn’t turned out a new painted in years.

Chris Hanch 6-4-17

Manners, Please!

Let’s face it, you learned from your people,

And I learned from mine. This doesn’t make

Us right or wrong. Well, in some cases it may.

Mostly our differences will not come up as

A topic for discussion at the dinner table.

Politics and religion aside, I could, however,

Take exception with the way you handle a

Knife and fork while slicing that piece of

Meat off the bone. I prefer picking up the

Chop with my hands, and ripping directly with

My teeth in order to get at those hard to get to

Pieces of flesh while you meticulously struggle

With your utensils like a doctor performing

Microscopic surgery. I see both ways of

Approaching the problem at hand. Your way

Certainly seems more fitting and appropriate

When dining with the sociably elite. But for

Just the two of us eating alone, I choose to

Launch my attack tearing away at the meat with

My teeth directly from the bone. No need to be

Alarmed or displeased, for you see I happen to

Come from a long line of ill-mannered and slov-

Enly beasts. And too, may I remind, you’re seated

At my table; I was the one who invited you.

Chris Hanch 6-3-17

Life's Ledger

I’ve spent an entire lifetime,

the past seventy-years filed

with seconds, minutes, hours

and days, frittered away and

crossed months off the calendar

learning ways to gather and gain.

Oh yes, indeed there were losses

along the way. I’ve withdrawn

from my account equal to or

surpassing amounts I’ve saved.

Had I been a CPA, I may have

been a bit more mindful of

checks and balances along

the way. But be that as it may,

here I am, non-the-less, teetering

between red and black entries

on my life’s ledger day after day.

I never was good at the numbers

game anyway. I find myself in

league with the “you can’t take

it with you” cliche. Why I’ve

wound up rhyming my lines

with ays today, I can’t rightly say.

In this life, I suppose, no matter

your financial situation, the piper

has got to be paid. In any case,

when you get to be my age (con-

sider yourself rich man or poor),

you couldn’t give a shit, more or

less, anyway.

Chris Hanch 6-2-17

Listen Here

See that tree over there? It was planted when

I was three. And that house was on this land

50-years before I arrived. This town was half

This size in the 1940s. My, how things have

Changed in my lifetime. The brown stain on

The pages of this book happened one morning

About a year ago when I spilled my coffee.

The shirt I’m wearing, when I bought it new,

It was a beautiful brilliant blue. Given its age

And all the washings it’s been through...well,

We all know about fading. I must admit, I too

Have been though the ringer a time or two

Over the years I’ve been here. Like this old

Shirt, people become frayed and faded over

Time. And when that tree falls and eventually

Rots or is hauled away, only those from around

Here who used it as a landmark reminder in

Their lives will miss it in their remembering.

And should it remain, I doubt anyone who

Sees the coffee stain on this book will know

Or care how it got there...except you. And

That is only because I told you so. You may

Not have seen this shirt when it was a brilliant

Blue, but I guarantee you’ll remember I told

You so when I was old. You may also recall

This poem. I’ve signed and dated it at the

Bottom just to make sure. Partly, my job here

Was to speak for the tree. For like the book

And the shirt, they have no voice of their own.

Chris Hanch 6-1-17