Posted in Random Poems I Find Meaningful

How Does One Love?

Just a short poem about loving someone. Enjoy!

How Does One Love?
By: Anita Marie

How does one love?
Should we hold hands and kiss under the sun?
Or should we dance under the moonlight having fun?

How does one show that one cares?
By giving gifts worth more than money?
Or by giving quality time and treasured memories?

How does one prove one’s love?
Is it through classic poems and songs of then?
Or the warm hearted surprises that have come to trend?

But most importantly, what is Love?
Is it a feeling of wanting? Of longing? Of belonging to someone?
Or is it more than those mentioned all in one?

In love, there are many questions
But with faith, there are many solutions

How does one love?
Just with one’s heart and soul
Doesn’t really matter how
As long as you know, without a doubt, Love is there

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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 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