Idols and Heroes

The Rose left us searching for the bouquet
We speculate if John ever found his Stairway
And the Purple Haze drifts our way no more
Leathernecks defend us from shore to shore

Break On Through shouted the Lizard King
How Will I Know? Nippy did beautifully sing
And we miss the sound of Kentucky Rain
Yet, at the Tomb, the Old Guard must remain

Bubbles no longer can play with his best friend
A Free Bird fell to earth in a violent end
And the Smells of Teen Spirit has wafted away
The global fleet is constantly at anchors aweigh

Jim warned us about Bad, Bad Leroy Brown
If only Harry had rode in a Taxi to town
And we miss you, Peggy, Oh Peggy Sue
At night, high overhead, flies a stealthy crew

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poem by Charles Hancock
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A Southern Indiana Christmas

It’s Merry Christmas time in Southern Indiana
The farmers have picked all the beans and corn
Please, please will you come visit me Santa?
Our tree is up and lights and decorations do adorn

Our family is blessed with God’s good grace
We have a red tractor and a barn with a silo
Dad likes his old Farmall but I want a Case
So St. Nick, please give me a jolly “ho ho ho”

I love to eat barbeque and catfish, it’s true
And go to all the festivals to feed on German food
I root for IU and sometimes even Purdue
So please check your list carefully, I’ve been good

Mom’s preparing a baked ham and an apple pie
I’ll say my prayer and go fast to sleep
So please stopover Santa Claus, I won’t spy
I’m like Honest Abe, a promise I keep

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poem by Charles Hancock
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Clearly Confused

She was clearly confused
Bewildered and bemused

How can it be called a civil war?
Brooding on it more and more

Dining on some jumbo shrimp
That waiter is such a wimp

Need more sweet and sour sauce
If only she had some dental floss

Hoping the bill wasn't pretty ugly
Pants are fitting a little more snugly

All in all, the meal was awfully good
Waistline was tight after she stood

Her car is parked by a Dodge Ram
Take 4th St. to avoid a traffic jam

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poem by Charles Hancock
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Raspberry Tea and Empathy

She sipped her cup of hot raspberry tea
Jumbled thoughts bounced in her head
Staring at a ceramic bowl of potpourri
Would this be another day to dread?

Why did her husband have to die?
First Iraq, then two tours in Afghanistan
She is no longer able to cry
This wasn't in their life plan

She knows she still has it good
He always thought of her first
Enlisted to provide a livelihood
Lived and loved it; went fully immersed

Each day morphed into the next
Now a year has came and gone
She still clings to his personal effects
Her grandfather died near Saigon

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poem by Charles Hancock
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Broken Dreams

I wandered aimlessly up and down my street of broken dreams
How did my life turn out this way? It’s all wrong, or so it seems
Grand illusions were crushed, ripped apart, tattered, and torn
A heart, once full of vim and vigor, now all tired out and worn

Must I run the gauntlet ‘tween hellish heartache and perpetual pain?
Will this be my epitaph? Do I need to “cowboy up” like John Wayne?
Dare I take yet another chance at love? Do you think I really should?
Do I feel lucky? Could I be tough enough and be like Clint Eastwood?

Then we found each other after thirty years of being good friends
My contorted roadmap of life was chock full of twists and bends
To my amazement and great fortune, you agreed to be my wife
A fairyland new beginning, watch out world! We’re high on life

Now when I lay my head down I see angel wings and finer things
Oh, how I can’t wait until I see what my new life with you brings
My hopes, dreams, wants, and wishes are now shiny and glistening
We’re in love. Did you hear me world? If not, better start listening

poem by Charles Hancock
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Nineteen-Eighty

It was the Year of Our Lord, Nineteen-Eighty
A Southerner, Rosalynn, was still our first lady
Becoming lifelong friends at our place of employment
The next three decades…full of heartache and enjoyment

I burned the roads up in a green Ford Gran Torino
Silly me, I thought my car was as hot as a jalapeño
Litha had a Pontiac Firebird and you drove a VW Bug
You were sad the day a semi smashed it like a garden slug

You got wedded and became a mother to Josh and Wynne
I did the same and fathered two, Kyle and Jackie Lynn
Both marriages went the way of the bloody war in Viet Nam
I tried wedlock again, fathering twin boys, Jake and Sam

Yet again, my marital bliss ended like a Japanese kamikaze
Good thing I'm not famous, can you imagine the paparazzi
I moved back home, and we agreed to meet for a cup of joe
Before we knew it sparks flew, and soon I became your beau

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poem by Charles Hancock
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My Morning

An audible disturbance reverberated in the wee hours.
Lurching out of bed, my eyes squinting and my body weary.
Oh joy, the railroad is needing me on this morning dreary.

Fumbling with the phone in the dark, I dropped it twice.
Clearing my throat, I answered it, sounding barely alive.
The caller mumbled something at oh-four-thirty-five.

Shuffling to the sink to slosh cold water on my face.
More cognizant now, a stout brew I must promptly make.
Grips...packed, lunch...made, now time for a coffee break.

Finally, I get dressed and wonder if the clunker has enough gas.
My honey, Lesa, is awake and tells goodbye with a kiss.
Ah serendipity! I'm on cloud nine. My life, a sweet bliss.

Running late, dust is billowing and gravel is exploding from under my car.
My grape pop-tart is polished off and the to-go cup of joe is nearly gone.
I arrived at work and hastily parked, my excitement betrayed by a big yawn.

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poem by Charles Hancock
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Reunion Committee Poem

We had our class reunion at Thieman's lake.
It was fun, such fun for goodness sake.
Ate pork, ate chicken, and even chocolate cake.

Hancock brothers used a cooker that was round.
Brian Tornatta hooked us up with great sound.
Barbecue smells and good music was all around.

Rendezvous garb was designed by our own Ryan Hayes.
View the front or the back, it's awesome both ways.
No matter where it is worn, a conversation will raise.

Ron Begle had the shiniest dome and won a large purple comb.
Bob Thomas took first prize, for having hair color of a garden gnome.
The Friedman's received a road atlas, so one day, hopefully, they may roam.

Also, the Friedman's have the most grandkids, yes they do.
Their jackpot was aspirin, for the headaches that ensue.
Eight rugrats, some dressed in pink, and others in blue.

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poem by Charles Hancock
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Evil Woman

Arrived at the right place but at the wrong time
Brandishing your tenderness like organized crime
Affection towards me as pleasing as caustic lime

Could be, it was the right time but at the wrong place
Being with you is akin to the War Between the States
At least like movie scenes from Arsenic and Old Lace

Stuck between the Devil and the deep blue sea
Even offered you a branch from an olive tree
Your rebuttal stung like an African Killer Bee

Maybe it was between a rock and a hard place
Your kisses are like getting showered with mace
Succubus! I hope to never again see your face

I've often heard the early bird gets the worm
After all is said and done, I'll be standing firm
Washing my hands of you like I would a germ

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poem by Charles Hancock
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A First Date

I was enjoying being alone
In my dimly lit comfort zone
Reading about Joey Ramone
In the latest issue of Rolling Stone

'Hey ho, let's go' I awkwardly sang
Then the kitchen telephone rang
I heard a hello with a country twang
It was that girl I wanted to bang

I was a little nervous at first
Took a drink to quench my thirst
Pick-up lines were well rehearsed
But still, planned for the worst

She was returning my earlier call
Felt a tightness in my abdominal wall
Would she go to the shopping mall?
Watch a movie starring Steven Seagal?

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poem by Charles Hancock
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