Laala Kashef Alghata
Biography of Laala Kashef Alghata
Laala Kashef Alghata was born in 1990. Her first book, 'Friendship in Knots' was written was published in 2003 as the first book written in English by a Bahraini writer. At 16, she published her second book, Behind the Mask: A Folded Heart, a poetry collection.
She is a poet-in-residence on several online journals, including The Peregrine Muse and Other Voices International project. Her poetry has been published in various journals online and in print, including All Things Girl, Argotist Online, La Fenetre and The Blotter.
In 2008, her poem, I Want to Feel Van Gogh's Night, was the focus of a month-long exhibit in Clemson, SC. She is also featured in Gathering The Tide, a contemporary anthology of Gulf poets.
She is also the founder and editor of the online poetry journal, Write Me a Metaphor, which is currently in hiatus.
On her writing:
“[In] this stark and affecting portrait... like the portraits of the lost souls and disenfranchised who appear in Rilke’s great New Poems volumes, Alghata’s tone is at once coolly objective and yet somehow deeply empathic. This balance is achieved through various small but ruthlessly ironic details – the quietly savage lines about the flowers for sale being “something to decay, /fill the car with summer smells”; the nonchalance of the man who remains at the intersection after his companion has left the scene, and the deadpan closure. The social criticism is withering but always remains implicit. There is no need to mention the social injustice that sometimes lies behind the Gulf states’ glitz – an injustice most acutely felt by the vast number of ill-paid foreign guest workers whose labours allow the glitz to shine. We do not know for certain if the flower sellers are guest workers or native Bahrainis, but it is easy to conclude that they are the former. What we do know is that Alghata handles the scene masterfully, ” David Wojahn on ‘Roadside Flowers’
Laala Kashef Alghata's Works:
Friendship In Knots (2003)
Behind the Mask: A Folded Heart (2006)
Laala Kashef Alghata Poems
Write Me A Metaphor
These words are just pressed thoughts upon a page, fragile like crumbling leaves, golden on the ground and vulnerable; stepped on so easily and disregarded,
Much Ado (About Nothing)
I thought that you were my Benedick and I, your Beatrice, that we argued against love into love, but oh! I was wrong.
Kiss My Knuckles While I Hold Your Soul
I write beauty like light in glass, fleeting and unique. I want to catch your tears and put a stop to the sadness that threatens to envelope us
The Silence Behind Your Words
You talk, and I listen. I listen to the silence behind your words, the way the sun licks your grave
Draw, Speak And Describe Love
If asked to draw love I would start at the basics. A red crayon and a big, full heart.
Despite The Splinters In My Heart, I Sti...
I love like the moon can wash me anew, like the tide can take me away. I love like the sun will kiss my skin golden and confuse my eyes
Texts Of Emotion And Unique Fingerprints
My senses are imbedded deep within my mind’s monastery with monks scribbling in focus to copy texts of my emotions to record feelings and lies into my subconscious and desert me in my reality, to make me able to wake from dreams
Shock. Horror. A fresh wave of grief. One shot. Two shots.
The rose hangs in the air, in the balance of probability
The Painters And I
I. Michelangelo would be afraid to paint my portrait, if he were asked
My Heart Complains
My heart is heavy but empty. I'm tired of lugging it around, of leaving it hanging like a pendulum with the string tied somewhere near my throat.
Fans Of Dali
Dali doesn't need us. Doesn't need our awe or our excitement at being amongst his pieces in London or St Petersburg. His clocks will melt
'the great advantage to being alive (instead of undying) is not so much that mind no more can disprove than prove what heart may feel and soul may touch
This is a day to exchange hearts dripping with fountains of your love embroidered with roses and smiles, filled to the brim with adoration
Much Ado (About Nothing)
I thought that you were my Benedick
and I, your Beatrice, that we argued
against love into love, but oh! I was wrong.
Beatrice truly loved Benedick,
and he loved her. Their fights
were a vibrant cloak to veil their emotions.
No, darling, you were my Claudio,