marcella hammer

I Must Commit

I need to find a rhyme, I must commit.
But sometimes pressure makes it hard to think—
(A poem is built, not born, you little shit.)

It’s all invisible until I fit
Intention, syntax, plot enough to link—
(I need to find a rhyme, I must commit.)

I’ll choose an awful truth I can admit,
One light enough that most of me won’t sink—
(A poem is built, not born, you little shit.)

There’s cost of course, a suffering to quit.
I try to catch up with myself and drink—
I need to find a rhyme, I must commit.

You might read this, somewhere, where you sit,
And now I’ve said too much, and now I shrink—
A poem is built, not born, you little shit.

I’m barely here at all, despite my wit—
And I’m just glad for nothing to rethink—
I need to find a rhyme, I must commit.
A poem is built, not born, you little shit.

-Marcella Hammer

How to Lead

I don’t ask what’s wrong—instead say,
Maybe tell me what’s bothering you?

That’s how they trust—
How you become theirs.
Even the most angry, doubtful, unhappy—

Brave that leap between the brain guts and the 
Other—meaning, me.
Sometimes they go from six feet tall down, down, down to
Seven years old, to the first day they became a self—smiling like

A puppy would smile, with different lips.
Please, they say without saying—
Please find something good here,
Left behind and forgotten because
Everything, everyone else makes, thinks, does it better—
So much better.
All people need is their compliment, the right one—just one.
Usually, it helps—marks the trails so they
Can find their way back—it works on most everyone—
Except for me.

—Marcella Hammer