Forecast Today (for Fred Broski)

 

Footsteps from the woman in the

apartment upstairs. The man next

door is off to work at the grocery

store. The dog barks at sudden

noises in the early morning.

Coffee is hot and the first cigarette

of the day is lit. Everything seems

normal. Plenty of sun and high 70s

forecast today.

The Russians occupy the Crimea

Region of Ukraine. The cease fire

between Hamas and Israel in Gaza

holds despite the clash in Jerusalem.

Japan's lower house slams Myanmar

Coup, calls for return to democracy.

A second cup of coffee and another

cigarette.

The man next door needn’t worry

about the traffic jam at rush hour

headed East on I-435. He rides his

bike to work every day sunshine or

rain. The dog barks at 7:30 when he

leaves his apartment and again at 5:45

when he returns.

In the meantime 15-cigarettes have

gone up in smoke.

Very few are paying attention, but

somewhere underlying out there

are those who claim that in this

day and age algorithms come into

play.

For others it’s just another day.

And although it’s negligible,

even Fred, the retired weather-

man will tell you, on any given

day, there’s always a 20% chance

of rain.

               -30-

Chris Hanch 6-8-2021

Roads Unknown

 

Poet, Robert Frost, took “the road less traveled.”

Baseball Hall of famer, Yogi Berra, suggested

when coming to a fork in the road, “take it.”

Early on in life when I was able to choose for

myself, I took Roads Unknown. Why on Earth

would I do such a thing, you may be asking?

Because the road I was on was not working for

me and something had to change.

For better or worse things eventually lead to

where I needed to be at any given time and place.

I found that my staying in one place too long was

a big mistake.

Roads Unknown proved to teach me what I needed

to grow experientially and emotionally. Art, photog-

raphy and poetry became my tools of expression.

This is the life I see, perceive, feel and portray today.

Tomorrow with a new canvas, my style or take on

things is bound to change. For me, living a life of

relative sameness and false security was never

meant to be.

When people I have known expressed that I have

myriad artistic styles and present a wide and varied

diversity, it all makes relative sense, you see.

Athens, Greece, Sydney, Australia and Camp Point,

Illinois, sadness and joy, depression, drunkenness and

sobriety were Roads Unknown which provided a world

of inspiration for me.

Fortunately, for the most part, even the people I’ve

met along the way did not present a boring black and

white portrait of innocuous uniformity.

                        -30-

Chris Hanch 6-6-2021

My Snarky Profession

 

My Internet Service is down

which means no Facebook or

e-mail until it’s up and running

again.

Being home bound restricts

me from contact with the outside

world. I still have my cable TV,

but that’s a one-way street with

less than stellar movies, lame

programming and the ever dis-

couraging national and interna-

tional news.

I suppose it’s healthier for me to

break the cycle of crap once and

awhile. At the moment my inspira-

tion for writing is on the skids,

and there are no topics which

appeal to me. So, I suppose that

I shall dwell in the Limbo Land

of my dry spell until technology

or the muse once again prevail.

I have decided to review a batch

of cartoons I rendered back in the

mid 1970s and early 80s while

employed with King Radio in

Olathe, Kansas. I was a material

planner at the time which here

again reminds me of how boring

and mundane life can be.

Under cover, I drew funny little

cartoons while reviewing and

requisitioning component elec-

trical and electronic parts.

As with most businesses, King

Radio had lots of things going

on which made good subject

matter for witty and sarcastic

commentary. Silly drawings

was the perfect media for me

to illustrate inanely stupid typical

corporate practices.

Anyway, I managed to fulfill

my creative bent. And fellow

co-workers appreciated my

efforts as well. I posted my

work daily on the wall in

front of my desk for the

whole world to see, includ-

ing management who never

had the balls to acknowledge

any of it.

The cutting content was such

that I could have been fired

for mocking management,

their policies and practices

with my unapologetic insolence.

I survived seven and a half

years applying my snarky

unsolicited editorializing

along with minimally ful-

fillig my official duties as

a material planner.

Eventually, I broke the

restraining shackles of

the corporate world, and

went on not to fame and

fortune, but renown in

certain circles regarded as

an unappreciative smart-ass.

Although I’ve tried my

best to excel in that field

of endeavor, to this day

as far as I’m aware, there

are still no awards recog-

nizing that illustrious

profession.

           -30-

Chris Hanch 6-4-2021

Way Out on a Limb, So to Speak

 

I’m going to go way out on a limb today.

That as a figure of speech is easy for me

to say. I haven’t climbed a tree since I

was a kid many years ago.

Now, I am 74-years old and need a

walker just to make it across the room.

Besides, even if I were able, I wouldn’t

physically go way out on a limb for I am

afraid of heights.

Glued securely to the firmly grounded

trunk of the tree, holding on for dear

life is more likely commensurate with

my speed.

Call the damned fire department, I’m

frozen with fright and can’t let go. In the

first place climbing a tree at all would be

an impossibility for me, literally

speaking that is.

                  -30-

Chris Hanch 8-3-2021

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