Life For What It's Worth

 

Listening to James Taylor

for several hours today. I like

to mix my music genres often.

Generally, I play classical stuff

which soothes an invigorates me.

But Beethoven, Bach and Mozart

are generations older than I, and

rarely bring back the times with

which I have a personal association.

With James Taylor and more con-

temporarys, I can trip back to the

1970s and remember when. My

life was pretty bland and

uneventful then, you know—

house and home in the suburbs,

family, eight-to-five job, grocery

stores, malls, cutting the grass

and cook-outs on Saturday.

Due to that and my service in the Army,

an early marriage and child in the 60s,

I missed out on those rebellious Vietnam

protests and flower-child, liberating

Hippy Days.

Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Pete Seeger,

Donovan, Taylor and others gave

me my wanna be background music.

Hell, back then, I didn’t know what

I didn’t know. And I suppose listening

to Taylor and the likes put me in the

mood for those changing times.

As it eventually turned out in the 80’s

I got my chance to grow a beard, get

divorced, let my hair hang down and

go hairy-assed ape shit wild.

I learned all about the booze, the

drugs, the moving about from

place-to-place, job-to-job and

woman-to-woman. I painted and

wrote poetry, and learned a lot more

that I ever wanted to know.

And of course, having survived all that,

I grew arthritically disabled and old.

In my seventies now, I am pretty much

home bound and do all my travel by

mind nowadays.

I have seen and heard plenty enough

from the world at large in my day. And

as for tomorrow, I feel some Beethoven

coming on.

                -30-

Chris Hanch 6-2-2021

Answering the Call

 

It is inevitable.

It is often unexpected.

It happens to everyone who listens,

who questions, who dreams.

It? What is it?

Who’s calling, and for God’s

sake, why?

Sometimes seems something

obscure as a whisper,

often not apparent and forthright,

nonetheless aimed directly at you.

Devils and angels cross our path

every day, teasing, tempting

directing our way.

But this is for you, the calling

is clear. You must decide,

heed or disobey.

It, the direction comes to you.

Answer and comply or simply

ignore and walk away.

What is it?

Call it divine providence or

a random misfiring of the brain.

Either way, you have a choice

to make.

Only you can say.

            -30-

Chris Hanch 6-2-2021

Competition

 

I consider the best and the least

I have to offer,

and still I question.

what do I have left in me for today?

Is it even worth my trying?

After all, I’m only competing with

myself.

This will be the one I have to write,

the one I have to offer.

It will be the only poem I write today.

It will be the best of poems I have

for today.

I will allow yesterday and tomorrow

to speak for themselves.

I have come to realize,

life and poetry are just that way.

This is not a race to the end.

            -30-

Chris Hanch 6-1-2021

Thought You'd Like to Know

They say she was involved.

It wasn’t that which seemed likely.

Yesterday around 5 PM.

Some say several miles away.

It’s still a mystery to me.

By osmosis, I suppose

Does that answer all your questions?

Count to ten and let it go.

                 -30-

Chris Hanch 5-31-2021

 

Happy, Happy, Oh, Happy Days

 

Makes me happy listening

to music I love.

Makes me happy on a warm

and sunny day.

Makes me happy remembering

the good old days.

Makes me happy to hear

your cheerful voice.

Makes me happy eating

a slice of chocolate cake.

Makes me happy for those glorious days

and when all my faculties are awake.

It doesn’t take a lot to make me

happy these days of old and gray.

I’m always happy

when the home town team wins.

Happy for days of healthy shits

and big old grins.

Makes me happy I had the good sense

to take your lovely picture years ago.

Happy I am reminded over and over

again of all those happy days past.

I am happy to be retired at age 74,

Happy, happy, oh, happy days before.

You, chocolate cake and regularity,

that’s all it takes;

I could always use more.

               -30-

Chris Hanch 5-30-2021

A Simple Thought Today

Today, a simple thought came to me.

One might think such a minor reflection

may not be worthy of forming the lines

of acceptable poetry, but nonetheless...

When once asked by me what constitutes

the basis of poetry, Sr. Mary Faith, herself

a poet and an acclaimed professor of the

Word at Benedictine College in Atchison,

Kansas told me, “First and foremost,

honesty is key.”

Well then, dear reader, according to

that lovely lady of the Lord and ven-

erated scholar, in my case herein, her

words ring true.

For this poem I place in front of

you here and now today is about as

honest a poem as I have generated

to date.

Truth be known, in the sordid and

often misguided life I have lead,

one may rest assured, there were

times for me when in all probability,

I may have offered far less. Not

because of lack of honesty, mind

you, but my willy-nilly application

of sheer stupidity.

               -30-

Chris Hanch 5-29-2021 

The Ordinary

 

Mom and Dad never made history.

They had three children which in-

cluded me. Not even that afforded

them any notoriety.

They were ordinary folks as people

go, run of the mill for the time. Dad

had his ordinary job, eight to five.

Mom tried her best tending to her

ordinary domestic things. She did

what she could do to make a house

a home.

As children we learned ordinary

things from them, bathing once

a week, brushing our teeth before

bed, wearing the proper attire to

play, to church and school.

We learned to behave in the pre-

sense of adults. It was ordinary to

be seen and not heard, to chew

with our mouth closed, ordinary

to pray before dinner, to say please

and thank you for everything we

received.

We were an ordinary family, nothing

special in those ordinary times, free

for the most part from mayhem, atom

bombs, polio and crime.

Mom and Dad argued a lot about

money, drinking, what needed doing

and what should not be done. I figured

most ordinary families behaved in the

same way.

Growing up, I never personally

knew anyone who was famous. At

a carnival once I met Texas Bruce who

had a daily show for kids on local TV.

He never seemed ordinary to me.

He was bigger in real life, much bigger

than I and my ordinary family could ever

hope to be. When he died, at first I was

surprised. But eventually, I learn that

even famous people must also abide

to that ordinary sort of thing.

To this day, and in my old age, some-

times I am still taken aback, however,

and I hate when the ordinary happens.

                 -30-

Chris Hanch 5-27-2021