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Best Poems Written by Talya Hammerman

Below are the all-time best Talya Hammerman poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Talya Hammerman Poem

Industrial-Revolution

During the United States’ industrial revolution,
Eli Whitney invented interchangeable parts;
Identical components that could be substituted one for another.

This creation was made for machine— 
weapons
cars
and other mechanical mysteries. 
This isn't the case today.

Hips are interchangeable. 
Legs are interchangeable.
Hands and fingers are interchangeable.
Hearts are interchangeable.
Now, not only with man, 
but also with machine.

I can’t imagine it will be long before
software updates are reprogramming us,
instead of the devices we hold in our hands.
That we electrocute when wet,
and overheat when used for a long duration of time.
That we can recharge by cord
and turn on and off with the simple click of a button.

A small advancement, interchangeable parts were,
yet they contributed to further blurring the lines
between man and machine.

Details | Talya Hammerman Poem

Old-Rose

a wilting flower’s qualities
are just as admirable
as that of 
a freshly bloomed rose

unlike their sprightly counterparts,
shriveled flowerheads project wisdom
experience
and growth

their browning petals dangle 
with a lifetime’s worth of memories 
as their stem grows weary
from withstanding the windiest of storms

their lifeless leaves
once fed the hungriest bees
and their roots still venture 
beneath the turning soil

although their physical beauty 
deteriorates against the test of time
their memory lives on with each grain of pollen 
whisked away by the breeze 

drooping stems are a mere glimpse 
into the progression of nature
for the death of one flower
leads to the blossoming of another

Details | Talya Hammerman Poem

Secret-Of-The-Ugly-Man

He whose face is unsightly and bare
will never proceed with delusion
when confronted with reality.

He whose looks are
‘undesirable’
will cease to ridicule features of another.

He who sits on the side of the road
will refrain judgment of 
the man who lay beside him.

He who wears shoes with holes
will fail to scowl upon
the woman who emerges from a different house every morning..

He who sleeps underneath a bridge
is not phased by
the pickup caked in mud that drives by each afternoon.

He who begs for food from others
says not a word
to those who steal.

He who is an outcast to society
understands the grievances
of even the most fortunate.

Details | Talya Hammerman Poem

Corpses

It won’t be long before
everyone begins to strip themselves
of their own humanity.

It will begin with the hair.
Cutting it down to the follicles 
until it is almost non-existent.

Then it will move to the nails.
Plucking and cutting and biting 
until our fleshy fingers bleed and our toes rot.

Next, it will be the skin.
Peeling ever so tenderly and folding off our bones 
until we’re nothing but internal organs.  

Now, bring death to our nerves. 
Ever so carefully, we string out the nerves from our insides
steadily taking away our ability to feel anything at all.

Soon, it shall become the organs.
Eyes being scraped out with spoons as
our stomachs quiver from being held in our stinging hands.

After that, it moves to the muscles.
Pulling them from our bones
until we are no more than mere skeletons of what life once was.

We lay there,
lifeless piles of bones and teeth
as our flesh and organs decay beside us,

All for the hope that eventually,
others would see us for our merit
instead of what they perceive from our surface.

Details | Talya Hammerman Poem

Flowers Shall Grow

From our bodies, dead and deceased,
of decaying flesh rotted off bone,
poking through loose lavish soil
flowers sprout and feed from the sun

From the corpse's arm, a reeling ranunculus
reaches toward the sky’s bright star
snaking its roots between marrow and meal
suckling the dew of morning’s break

From the heel, a snapdragon floret
promenades through the skin of carbon feet
folding petals, one over the other
drawing beauty from

From the stomach, a dahlia blossoms
digesting under a tree’s great shade
awaiting their repressed august-time bloom
only to wilt in a thickened frost

From the chest, a celosia blooms
budding across the lung’s final breath
and releasing into the atmosphere
a life, reborn from nature’s death