• Grant Handgis

Grant Handgis ~ Poet/Author

Princess Tameran...

a little girl

You entered this world

in secret rooms, sucked clean

from sterilizing machines, and hermetically

sealed from the probing world, and the man

who wrestled you to life, three seasons past

when the white oaks turned,

and the chilled winds of Autumn

drove your father to the warmth in the harbor

of your mother's womb, and she sang inside

and waited for the sound you would make

in your loud indignant voice, stifling the jokes

of your round wrinkled face and clorox hair,

like the spirit of Tamerlane renewed

in your breath, and grew with you

those first few years when you conquered

your uncertain steps by gliding on the beads

partitioning your realms, before the days of school,

fidgeting in your chair from the flirtation of boys,

and talk of growing up to raise stray cats

like you watched your mother do, those days

since gone, foreshadowed to the time

when the white oaks will turn, and the cold winds

will drive a man to your harbor

to know the warmth of a woman,

and the earth will split, turn your head around

and breathe a song into your life

Copyright 1979-2011

This was the second poem dedicated to the offspring, my daughter. Although the poems were written at the same relative period of time, I began with my son being of his being younger and in a period of his life that caught my attention. His older sister became “Little Mother” of the household and ruled with an iron fist. And that begat the lines describing her life to come. Although I continued to work with Iambic metering, the poems continued to sometimes to read more like open verse, straying from the Iambic tempo. I was still progressing.

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g. Michael Handgis Photography


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