Biography of Marwa Rakha
I have come a long way from the scared little girl that I once was... I found my passion in writing, my voice in teaching & training, and my strength in marketing... I took off my mask... and I decided to speak up and loud.. as loud as loud could ever be.
This is neither a ruthless attack on men nor a blind defense of women. This is not bitterness released or anger withheld. This is another attempt to figure out the beliefs of the heart and the passions of the mind.
We either choose to play victim and blame men for our messy personal lives, or wallow in self disgust as we take the blame for their shameful actions.
It is time to rise above blame and take control of our actions, reactions, and lives.
When you take a blow do not turn the other cheek; men are not to blame when they use the rights you gave them.
Marwa Rakha's Works:
Egyptian Fe-mail (http: //marwarakha.blogspot.com/)
Marwa Rakha Poems
You Are Mine
I will dropp you in the deepest of oceans but like a message in a bottle you will swim to my shore.
The Washing Machine
A washing machine I am; come touch my buttons and see me spinning.
The Magic Mirror
Mirror … mirror on the wall, Who’s the fairest fair of all? Mirror … mirror on the wall, Who’s the smartest head of all?
With the power of my thoughts I summoned you; With a blink I made you vanish. On a dark trip your spirit shall wander
My laughter and giggles filled the air as you walked me to the fair. I was again a little girl of five; I was so alive.
Deep into your beautiful eyes I look; I see nothing. Between your poised words I listen; I hear nothing.
The Little Man
What do you see when you look at me? Do you see the man you will never be? What do you hear when I talk to you?
Dear Man: I Want To Have Your Baby
Dear MAN Eve is my God-given name and Adam is what I will call you.
In a circus of lovers you are my favorite clown Make a funny face or I shall show you a frown Play with fire or walk a rope
Dear Man... Dear Dorian Gray
Dear Dorian Gray Once upon a time In the holy crucible of creation
Air within you if you care beneath you if you dare around you but so rare
The Pair Of Boots
Hidden in my closet I keep A pair of boots with heels so steep How I dread their pointed end
Standing tall on a pedestal so high Judged or crowned with your every sigh Shivering in the cold.. all alone Taking the heat.. your sins I atone
A long purple gown I made her, Among the mystics I placed her. In precious lilac I drowned her gown
In the dim light of the room I caught your eyes
wandering in my face;
feeling the fine lines that are bound to sink deeper.
Yes I will have wrinkles.
I am not growing any younger.
Under the faint light our silent still eyes met,
you saw four or five white hairs that sprung on top of my crown.
Why were you surprised?