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Thursday, 23 July 2009


  • Due to my unplanned sabbatical, it has been a year since I last put up an issue of Write Me a Metaphor. I was busy with university, and moving out, and all the things first year uni students are busy with.

    At any rate, I have started to catch up with submissions and have put up the site's fifth issue. The new issue is, I think, the most versatile and international issue we have had yet. I think that's wonderful, and I am touched by the works being sent from all ends of the world. Issue 5 features the poetic works of Danielle Jackson, South African poet Tendai Mwanaka, Maltese poet Patrick Sammut, Californian Felino Soriano, Zimbabwean Innocent Tinarwo, Quasi-Senryu poet Richard H. Williams, British teacher Patrick Carpenter and university student Emily Owens.

    Please head over there and enjoy.



Tuesday, 14 July 2009

Wednesday, 24 June 2009

  • new poem.

    post dedicated to EchoofEmotion, who honestly gives me heart that some of my early readers are still around.


    His hands lay dormant.
    She spoke of patterns and stardust,
    made him lie next to her in the dark
    as the heat crawled past them,
    howling at the moon
    and provoking the sky.

    The land dripped with sweat,
    windows stained with its salt.

    His eyes erupt. The sun does not
    rise, and sudden stillness suffocates.
    She dances by the wayside, writhing
    in ecstasy. His eyes hold her, spitting ash.

    Darkness hovers, waiting for the sky
    to shed skins. Twilight dances in the breeze.

    Her heart lay dormant.
    She tattoos its likeness on her skin
    and takes his hand in hers – her lips erupt
    with fervour and meet his eyes.

    The sun appears, frozen on the horizon.



Saturday, 18 April 2009




  • There are no seasons, no April
    mornings with dew-dipped roses
    waiting to be shaved, no August
    heat with summer dresses wafting
    in the non-existent breeze. No spring
    or summer, no twilight walks
    on the beach, no footprints to follow.

    There is no sun, no moon, no stars;
    the sky itself has disappeared. There is
    nothing that engulfs us, no vast oceans
    or heavens that dwarf us, no edges.

    There is only a peach sliced open,
    flesh bright and vivid, full of sweetness;
    and bruised apples on the ground.



Tuesday, 20 December 2005

  • plagiarizer,

    you think you can steal
    our flames from our candles
    without asking, that you can
    take our brilliance, making it
    your own, when we try so hard
    to make our words shine.

    --20 Dec 05

    Do not plagiarize. My words belong on my page, not yours unless you've asked permission and given me credit (obviously).

    Plagiarizers are weak, pathetic fools; and I don't take too kindly to people stealing my stuff.

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    • Name: Laala
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    • Member Since: 5/13/2005
BTM, A Folded Heart
My book, a poetry and prose collection.
US$25 for an autographed copy, including shipping.
Since I don't live in the US, shipping costs me US$9.
Interested? Let me know through the message me link.

Write Me a Metaphor
My online poetry magazine, Write Me a Metaphor

x365 is a poetry project where you write about a person who has touched your life each day for a year. It doesn't matter whether their 'touch' has been good or bad.
My x365, touchedx365

About Me

  • Let me be your Persephone or the poison on Juliet's lips; let me be yours though I do not love you.