#snipbits

By Khadeeja Farooqi

Let’s cry a little now, shall we? for words said

-and those unsaid.

and for symphonies heard

-and those unheard.  Let's cry about vulnerable, beautiful nights and cold silent mornings,   about slipping seconds 

painted in photographs alone. 

And about those that were never captured.  Let's cry about dreams; about 

them flying wildly than the wind, 

about them being wilder than the wind. And let's shed a tear too  

for fantasies that sway behind wet eyelashes. Let's cry about colors, please?  Emerald, hazel and sapphire.  Let's cry about red, shall we?  And about raindrops splattering. And perhaps about wet roses swaying in July.  Let's cry about fading laughter, 

about the last songs, the last words.  Let's cry about the closing chapter,  about the final shimmer,  the final summer. Let's cry about all there could have been but is not.  Let's cry about all that would never have been but is.

Let's cry for tomorrow

and for yesterday. Please, let's just cry, for the sake of all that remains? Let's get drunk on broken phrases, not alcohol.  Let's dance to silent melodies, not music.  Let's sing poetry, not songs.   Let's cry about us, about them. 

By Julia Okun    from Washington D.C., USA 

By Ariel Kaufman   from Illinois, USA 

No, I’m not from this place or that one, Or any rhyme or any reason.

I’m from here. I’m from this poem, you see.

It’s nice to belong somewhere, It feels like the smell of fried chicken. It will sit alone at my funeral, Dressed in a wide brimmed black hat. It will get lost amongst files, Between floorboards of houses That never existed. It will forever dance in horizontal figure eights, Leaping from infinity to infinity and coming back As the only thing it’s not,

By Tiana Ferrante    from Florida, USA

By Shreya Tripathy    from Texas, USA

Let’s all clap and sing along to this intentionally deranged rhythm. Let’s step out of place and crookedly dance to this tune.

Let’s throw up our hands and let our dirty fingernails unravel our sins like a noose being untied from a dead whore’s neck.

Let’s sing like drunks to a song no one knows and hopefully make some sense. Let’s giggle at our silly lives and forget our regrets from the past.

A little bit on Chandler from the April 30th issue of ABC Soaps In Depth