Posted in Random Poems I Find Meaningful

A Forgotten Home

This is a piece that describes how I feel whenever I think about my mother and the family I have far away. They're my everything and I wouldn't trade the world for them.

A Forgotten Home

By: Anita Marie

Home is where your heart resides
It's where you can be whoever you'd like and find a safe haven within
The hush of the noise, the gleam of the night lights
The little things that just makes home a home

Some live in huts, others in mansions
In homes there is dining space for a family to share
Family could be a family of six
Then again family could just be mom and you
As long as there is a reason to get together, home will remain a home

It may be a freshly bought house or an ancestral home
Yet it will always be yours to treasure
Yours to cherish and yours to endure

Life thrives at the very soul of the hearth
Spreading warmth to the coldest of hearts and light to the darkest of souls
It's where you find that spark of hope that ignites the fire of your deepest passions
And that warm hand to hold when you think you're left out to drown in the ocean

But sometimes we forget home
We forget what it's like to build make believe fortresses with the pillows we sleep with at night
It becomes all too vague how we first rode our bikes and how we embraced the number of times we fell

Sometimes home slips from our mind when we're enjoying a cup of coffee at a shop
Sometimes it completely disappears when we're dreaming about the unknown feared in the dark

We sometimes walk through our lives with the knowledge of something else other than home
But no matter how far the distance we go
Our feet will always lead us back home

Nevermind how dangerous the road back may be
Home can be the house on the next street or thousands of miles east
Sometimes you realize you never left home
Sometimes you understand that home never leaves you
For every time you choose to leave it, home will find you

Without needing a map, a compass, or a GPS
Home will find you because home knows who you are
Because whether you admit it or not, home has always been in your heart

Posted in Poems about Relationships

The Subtle Fall

This poem is about my one-sided admiration of a guy who I’ve known for years. I honestly think he’s out of reach. I feel like he deserves a world so much greater than me. But late at night, I’ve  always prayed that the world he deserves, he’ll find in me.

The Subtle Fall
By: Anita Marie

I don’t know how to start
It was just a bit of a shake for my heart
He was like current
Steady, yet electrifying
And someone who just keeps you going

He wasn’t someone new
In fact, years have passed since who knew
The subtle hellos
An acquaintance at best
But lately, has somehow peaked my interest

8 hours of deep talk
Somehow got my heart locked
I never thought
Life would be so clear
Whenever he would wander near

Too near my naive heart
Threatening it to give him his part
But only I can feel
Only I can see
How strong I get when he captures me

Dear love, you drain me
My smile, my cheeks, my energy
Notice me please
And fall for me too
Cause I think I might go crazy without you

Keep still, I’m only joking
I won’t force us both into working
I pray for you to be happy
I pray you’ll be loved
That’s all I ask from our Father from above

You’re more than myself
I’ve never felt so terribly scared
Of keeping you
From what you deserve
For your heart was very well preserved

But if I may be so bold
And if your heart’s not as cold
I hope she’s me
The one you’re thinking of
I hope she’s me, your only love

Posted in Random Poems I Find Meaningful

Chocolates

I love chocolates. I’ve loved them ever since I was a child and my aunt always never fail to spoil me with them. So, why chocolates? Well, I just got a new bunch from my aunt and this poem will tell you how chocolates are just more than just a sweet treat to me. Enjoy the chocolates!

Chocolates
By: Anita Marie

My aunt often sent me chocolates
As a toddler, they were heaven
A reason to smile while binge eating them
I’d take a piece and savor the sugar
Then one by one I start to devour another

My aunt loved sending me chocolates
As a kid, I carefully hid my share
From itchy hands and greedy stares
How selfish I was to keep them to myself
Loving how I had to finish them all without help

My aunt really can’t stop sending me chocolates
Approaching my teens, it never bothered me
I’d eat them all without caring about my belly
My mother always told me, “in moderation”
But I can’t ignore the chocolate’s temptations

My aunt still sends me chocolates
As a teen, it was what I was known for
The crazy pink girl and a chocolate whore
But this time I learned to share with my friends
Because chocolates are better with a happy moment

My aunt sent me chocolates, again
Early adulthood, I realized was not a place for them
It’s sweet and full of innocence with a dangerous trend
It’s when I realized that life can be a burst of flavor
Definitely not like the chocolates I used to savor

But I, now, know why my aunt sent me chocolates all the time
When I hit my all time low in my young life
Lonely I was without signs of light
But chocolate was there to remind me of my childhood
The happy days of was, is, and would

My aunt was great for sending me chocolates
In happiness, they’re there to celebrate
In loneliness, they’re there to consolate
In success, they’re there to congratulate
And in sadness, they’re there to brighten my day

Posted in Haiku Haven

In Sync

A haiku about how I listen to music…

In Sync
By: Anita Marie

Your earphones plugged in
Music and feelings in sync
A moment begins

Posted in Poems about Relationships

The Thing About Him

This is a poem about my ex. It’s strange because I realize that the more I neutralize my perception of who he is, he turns more and more into an enemy rather than a friend, which was what he was before we turned into something more. Then, I guess it was a good thing we broke up.

The Thing About Him
By: Anita Marie

The thing about him is that he’s an expert on deception
I don’t get it how he does it but he just is
Making you think that his confidence is perfection

The thing about him is that he was not even a good friend
Even after putting friendship back on the table
He sulked in bitterness as he could not accept the end

The thing about him is that he was a chronic liar
One after the other they just flew from his mouth
Flame by flame building up into one great fire

The thing about him is that he embraces fuckboy culture
He likes it that he has a lot of girls at his disposal
Being praised for misogyny without looking at the big picture

The thing about him is that he was a pseudo everything
Making you think it was a meaningful relationship
But turns out it was for his pride that you were casted out as a fling

The thing about him is that he wasn’t even beautiful
Not even the slightest bit of a Prince Charming
Not a knight in shining armor, neither strong and honorable

The thing about him is that he was always a bad memory
Even if there were good times worth remembering
He has his way of day by day turning into the enemy

Posted in Poems about my Health

Despite the Medicine

So, this is another poem about struggling with OCPD. For those who don’t know me, I am a girl currently suffering from one of the more invisible mental illness, Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder. Again, this is not to be confused with OCD, which is an Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. The primary focus of this poem is mainly on the stigma that comes with a mental illness, particularly, the intake of medications. It is one of the few things that really irritate me and basically, I just want people to understand why I need this.

Despite the Medicine
By: Anita Marie

People call me crazy
Sometimes even lazy
They say I blame the devastations of my life on illnesses I fake
But they don’t know the frustrations I have over the decisions I make

Acting out. Depressed.
Heart Broken. Or stressed.
I could go on and on about how people perceive mental illness.
I get it, it’s invisible to the eye and almost impossible to detect.
And the stigma distresses me.

For the information of some, this is biology.
Its quite similar to how Animal Farm works.
Some neurotransmitters are more equal than others.
Until one or two of them starts to take over.

For the information of many, the symptoms are similar.
It’s just like how clear water resemble alcohol.
Both bubble up when you shake them yet steadies immediately after you do.
But the difference is one can cause miracles and one can kill you.

I’ve read many medical textbooks and I refused seeing a doctor.
You’d think 10 months of denial would help put my life in order?
No. It was out of my control. And I was too scared to admit it.
I thought of a thousand possibilities of what might have changed.
Is it the stress? Am I crazy? Am I just this anxious? What is wrong with me?
How ironic, right?
That a therapist would need a therapist of her own?
Who’s supposed to teach her what she already knows?

Every time I see my doctor, she always says,
“I’m gonna give you a prescription of these meds.
But always be reminded that this is only 50% of the recovery, so don’t be too sure
That you will get better until you perform the remaining 50% for your future.”

I believed this was the little push I needed to get better in school.
But others thought otherwise and thought I was a fool.
Cause medicine for the brain is still taboo
In a society that fusses over anything new

“You know what, that girl who went through suicide? She was on pills.”
“I think that man who was crazy overdosed until he got himself killed.”
“Are you sure about this? Be careful, honey, the side effects are hard.”
“WTF! Once you start, you might be dependent on them like Clark.”

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. Reality Testing. They do help but without medicine its not the same
Because no amount of that can ever fix the imbalances in my brain.

And maybe that’s why I wrote about it.
To be honest, a mental illness cannot kill you.
But a society that stigmatizes it actually can.
Despite the medicine.

Posted in Poems about Relationships

Two Rules

Now, this is a poem about my breakup. My ex was weird but it happened anyway, so here’s the story.

Two Rules
By: Anita Marie

There are two rules you need to follow to win this game
Number one, listen and number two, try not to go insane

You see, the last time I played this game, I didn’t know the rules
I just leaped into it like I was searching for blue’s clues
Searching for signs to solve this mystery going around called love
Boy was I wrong when he started handing me my pink punching gloves

I stood there waiting for a punch but it didn’t come
Instead I got kisses, warm chocolates and hugs
My opponent made it seem like he wanted a connection rather than a fight
So as we made it to our corners, the emcee started picking up his mic

Introducing me, as an upcoming prodigy expected to win this season
And him, as a well known fighter yet has always lost for some reason
Both dignified fighters in their own right
Yet, who’s gonna win this fight?

Round one, we begin as we circle each other
Trying to get to know the opposing fighter better
It turned out none of us had landed a punch
And ended up disappointing the overlooking bunch

Round two was different, I felt it as we got closer
I knew more about your strategies and about the boulder
You carry everyday even if it was heavy enough to crush you when you stand
Little did I know that all was going according to your plans

Round three, your boulder, I helped you carry
And you said you’d thought I’d be a fighter too scary
Who knew we surprised each other so much
But in this round, spectators said we were losing our touch

The crowd boo-ed
The tickets were not cheap they said
A fight they wanted, a fight they will get

Now, there I stood with my pink gloves on
I took it off, and starting stepping out with conviction
I didn’t want to be a fighter if you were my opponent
I loved you too much already that to hurt you, I couldn’t

But before I could leave the ring to join your side
You landed a punch and said you lied

In the art of war, deception is the key
The crowd cheered for you and they boo-ed for me
My attention went to the scoreboard you looked at a lot
One point for you, okay now, I’ll stop

I’ll let you win because I loved you
But you didn’t love me back too
You said the words yet left bruises on my skin
You kissed my lips yet put my notes into a trash bin

I don’t know how much of it was a fight
I also don’t know how much of it was a lie
But I do know that something wasn’t right
Then I thought of something I thought I would never try

Let’s stop the fight. Then silence overtook the stadium.

I return the pink punching gloves stained red
I expected you to proclaim your love but instead
You took the belt, passed by me, without a trace of worry
Then I waited long for you to say the words, “I’m sorry”

I guess I’ll never hear it
Disqualified
Or maybe I didn’t listen
Disqualified

You see, I violated the two rules that made the game
Number one, listen and number two, try not to go insane

Posted in Random Poems I Find Meaningful

If I Died Today

People come and go exactly when they’re supposed to. For some of us, it may be years in the future. For some, it could be moments away. So, I just thought, if my time came, how would I greet death? How about my funeral? What kind of story did I want to leave behind?

If I Died Today
By: Anita Marie

If I died today, instead of black, I want everyone in pink
Instead of a eulogy, I want a room full of music
If I had to hold flowers, I want them to be roses
And when I close my eyes, I want my favorite dark brown eyeliner on them

If I died today, I want it to be because I outlived my legacy
Because of a lack of sleep and a worn out resiliency
Passion is dangerous and ambition is too
But I swear I’d rather die trying to reach them

If I died today, my mom would be filled with worry
And I’d want my organs taken out in a hurry
To heal all those who I’ve never met before
To give them the second chance I never got to have

If I died today, I want one last chance to show the world who I am
My corpse would be burnt for reasons my loved ones would understand
My ashes buried with a tree seedling ready to grow
From my ashes, new life will rise giving meaning to this world

Posted in Poems about Relationships

A Good Man

This is an appreciation poem for the person that made my heart flutter for the first time. We met when we were kids then quickly became friends and I, as a kid would do, told him I liked him. It’s embarrassing even until this day and when I finally thought I would never see him again, we kept crossing paths in college. Now that I’m older, I’ve realized that we played each others’ roles in our lives perfectly and his role in mine happens to be being my first love, which I’m thankful for. He grew up to be a good man and I’m happy I didn’t have a bad taste in boys when I was younger. It’s still a cute and happy story to tell.

A Good Man
By: Anita Marie

He was my first love, my puppy love
And he made my first taste of love so wonderful I never hated him
No, to me, he deserved a poem of his own
A beautiful one that highlighted who he was

I don’t have good poems nor stories
But I have the skill of appreciating him cause he is a good man
With hidden ambitions he made himself a name
Self-made, established, and yet humble with his state

You made my heart flutter the first time
It wasn’t because of how you looked like or the way you carried yourself
It was what you did that made me see so clearly
Kindness, discipline, aspects of a good person

When I told you I liked you a lot
I was a child that did things without thinking first and it embarrassed me
You set it aside and went on being my friend
Without giving false hope or animosity

Eventually, we went separate ways
I still remembered back then what a wonderful person you really were
Years of growth had put a distance between ourselves
And we both existed in different dimensions

However, we crossed each other’s path
You made me smile again like I did the first time, the same way you made me
Please don’t get this wrong, I’m not holding on to you
It brought me back to the sweet memories I have

And I just would like to say thank you
For teaching me how to feel and showing an example of a good man
Thank you for being my first taste of sweetness and
Thank you for being there and for being a friend

Posted in Random Poems I Find Meaningful

Skin, Blood, Heart, and Soul

If you saw my About page on this website, you’ll remember I mentioned having science running in my blood but having a soul hungry for the arts. It’s an internal struggle at times. I’m good at science, math, and perceptual ability. My hobbies include puzzles like tangrams, sudoku, and strategy board games like the Game of Generals. However, even if I thrive in the logical world, they can never satisfy my soul. I’m not an artist. I don’t know how to draw or write but I love literature, I love history and culture. It’s a clash of interests which always makes me crave for more than I need. But I guess, that’s who I am.

Skin, Blood, Heart, and Soul
By: Anita Marie

When I was a child, I loved crayons
Especially that 68 crayon set I had my eyes on
Just cause it had the color flesh and the color gold
Both colors I’ve ignored as I grew old

My mom, she liked it that I loved coloring
I decorate her cards with blues, yellows and pink
Still, I feel like the flowers I’ve drawn can never conceal
The empty white spaces that are yet to be filled

So I stopped coloring, just so
Instead, shifted my attention to what I know
People say science run in my blood and it courses through my veins
No one thought I’d look at graffiti or decorated pots of porcelain

But people always assume what they want
They carve you into a masterpiece for fun
Artists in their own right, with words coloring your being
Regardless of what you felt or what you’re thinking

Art. Literature. Pieces eternalized by the renaissance
Yet my hunger for the arts did not fit me so I kept my distance
To be honest, I can’t draw, and I can’t write
I only put words together and out of spite

Because of the thousands of feelings I feel inside
A longing for the unknown is something I cannot hide
So I keep books, stories and poetry all the same
To feed this half-artist, half-scientist-ish brain

Austen. Shakespeare. Lewis Caroll.
Sun Tzu. Dickens. And George Orwell
Why do they make me feel so alive?
Why do they give me the energy to survive?

Questions that formulas cannot answer
Despite the calculations and the help of a tutor
We can search galaxies but it can never explain why
Because our souls are honest and they cannot lie

My skin is a canvas, yet it’s colored flesh
My blood is science, so alive and fresh
My heart is fragile, yet it’s made of gold
My soul is a story, just waiting to be told