Go Figure

 

I think you would understand better

if you didn’t know what I was saying.

Take rhododendrons soaked in mashed

potatoes, or Yes, please, pour me a urine

based elephant cocktail. What if I began

a poem at the end and end it with the

beginning? What if I didn’t write a word

and told you to fill in the blanks? Would

I then be guilty of the Sin of Omission?

I could compose a poem with only verbs,

Run, run, run, run, run, run... How then

would you know that I’m done, or who

it was really crossed the finish line first

and won? Face it, I am confused as hell,

and so are you. It has been that way ever

since...but that never stopped us from

trying. Give it up, I keep trying to tell

you, it’s all way beyond our understan-

ding. The complexities are far too

overwhelming, don’t you think? Let’s

you and I give it another shot tomorrow.

It’ll be a secret just between you and me.

There will always be those who believe

we might be crazy. Say your prayers and

finish your dinner. There are bound to be

those days which go unaccountable where

there is nothing momentous to say. Call me

looney, but on this day in passing I needed

to be on the record if for no other reason

than to fill in the blanks. Pretty self-serving,

wouldn’t you say? Isn’t that how we get by

on these mundane days we’ll never recall

anyway?

                  -30-

Chris Hanch 7-2-2021

Thinking About, What If?

 

Thinking about, What if?

What if I had grown up with

a sister as part of my family?

Would that have resulted in a

better sibling relationship?

I am the middle child of

three boys, each approxi-

mately one year apart.

Some would think that

brothers would foster a

greater bond. And that

may be the case in some

families, but not in mine.

We three brothers were so

different in looks and per-

sonalities. And those who

knew us found it difficult

to believe that we were

part of the same family.

My older brother and I fought

constantly, and the youngest

did his best to separate from

the fray.

An older sister may have

been one to look up to;

a younger sister may have

been one for an older

brother to affectionately

honor and protect.

How come Mark gets to do

this and that, and I don’t?

Why does David always get

the biggest slice of pie?

I’m better looking and have

more muscles than he.

The comparatives between

brothers can be uncompro-

misingly brutal.

He stole my baseball glove

and traded it to Ronnie Barker for

a bat. Where’s the brotherly love?

Look at Cain and Abel, I used to

think. How did that arrangement

work out?

At least if someone disrespected

a sister (had I been blessed

enough to have one of those),

I could have punched the rotten

bastard in the nose.

My older brother would have

chased me all over the place

with his bat had I punched him

instead. The younger brother

couldn’t have cared less.

           -30-

Chris Hanch 6-30-2021

Out My Window

 

Out my window,

I long to see

a scene of something

grander than me—

a snow-capped mountain perhaps,

the shoreline of rock and sand,

repleat with whitecapped waves

of an endless sea.

Out of my window

a Midwestern landscape in actuality.

I see summer’s grass,

the broad green leaves

and peeling bark

of the stalwart sycamore tree.

For this moment in time and place,

and the tenacity of my age,

a grand enough vision for me.

            -30-

Chris Hanch 6-29-2021

For All It's Worth

My job today is not to jog or lift weights.

Today, my job is not to fritter away the

hours in dismay. In my lifetime I have

shied away from physical exercise and

wasted enough time twiddling my thumbs.

Today, I am mindful of the countdown of

minutes and hours allowed. As I age, my

options for activity fade. I am neither cow

nor hen expected to produce product every-

day. No further need have I to punch the

clock and prove my worth for pay.

No sir, no ma’am, I no longer tick that way.

I have no further need to pull my own weight,

ingratiate or substantiate this modest space

I occupy. I am for all it’s worth simply here

and now as I have been all along since birth.

And today, you have the rare opportunity to

engage with me in useless conversation

and nonsensical validation. 

Start your 30-day free home trial at

www.wtfishappeningtome.com

or hashtag me at #BSforFreeEasyas123.

Don’t you just love what you can do with

all this new technology and a wasteland

of free time on your hands?

                  -30-

Chris Hanch 6-28-2021

 

Who Cares Anyway?

 

Sleepy-eyed summer Sunday

Framed pictures on the wall.

Memories of bygone days stored safely away.

The clock is running a minute late.

No one is expected to arrive today.

Grand schemes are visions of some other day.

Not here, not a whisper, all the music has been played.

No one cares to know; no one cares to say.

Sleepy-eyed summer Sunday

has a certain aura of peace an quiet to it.

The dog naps snugly in the lap.

Not a care in the world inside or out today.

Nothing of earth-shaking consequence to say.

Nothing is forever.

In between black and white reside shades of gray.

                       -30-

Chris Hanch 6-27-2021

The Story Behind a Story

 

On the Disney + Channel last night I watched

a documentary on how an animated movie is

made.

It was about the feature movie, Frozen II. I won’t

go into the details of the movie itself, but rather

would focus specifically on the process and people

involved.

3-years in the making, dozens of professionals

from producers, directors, writers, artists, designers,

animators to composers, musicians and technicians

were involved.

I was not only amazed with today’s modern technology,

but with the heart and soul dedication and creative work

of all who played an integral part in the project.

All of this, a world of creativity, the stresses and

strains, the myriad emotions, the teamwork,

a conglomerate of talent, a labor of dedication

and love to entertain, educate, and for all it’s

worth to make us laugh and cry.

And in keeping with the evolutionary and

ongoing traditional manner of mankind’s

premier and valued legacy, to bring us pure

joy in the telling of a story.

                  -30-

Chris Hanch 6-26-2021

Tell Me Why

 

Tell my why the beard grays with age?

Tell me why lines take over the face?

Tell me why the joints and muscles ache

and deteriorate?

Tell me why the bladder leaks and the bowels

constipate?

Tell me why the mind forgets once well known

name and place?

Tell me why easy is getting harder everyday?

When I was younger I used to wonder why

I couldn’t fly.

Used to ponder all the possibilities available

to me...

figured the world was my oyster...

thought I was 10-feet tall and bullet proof.

I never expected to see the day when I was

set out to pasture dried up and lame,

Never expected the day would come when

I had had enough of enough. And I often

wonder what lies ahead of me? Guess I got

everything and more than I deserved

coming to me.

And humming along with the lyrics

of Iris DeMent...Everbody’s wondering

what and where they all came from?

Everybody’s worried about where they’re

going when the whole thing’s done?

But no one knows for certain, so it’s

all the same to me. Think I’ll just let

the mystery be...

                   -30-

Chris Hanch 6-25-2021