Mari Felices

Intro These photos popped up in my Google Photos today, taken last autumn, on a quiet day off. I had almost forgotten about it. But the moment came rushing back, the golden leaves, the crisp air, and the simple joy of walking through the forest with a friend. We didn’t have a plan. Just two OFWs in Finland, escaping the routine for a while. We wandered, we talked—about home, about life, about the things we missed and the things we were still figuring out. It wasn’t dramatic. But it was real. And sometimes, that’s enough. This poem is for that memory. For the warmth of friendship, the beauty of autumn, and the quiet strength we carry—especially when we don’t realize it. Golden Hours I stepped outside with boots and laughs,   No clocks to chase, no work, no tasks.   The forest wore its golden crown,   And leaves like stars came drifting down.   Beside me walked my closest friend,   No need for words, no ...

" We met as strangers chasing dreams, became sisters through shared Sundays and street food, and stayed friends across oceans, because true friendship doesn’t fade, it simply finds new ways to stay." Celebrating 12 years of friendship with Annie How It All Began I still remember the day I met Annie. We were both at the agency, we are together in our training, going for medical tests, and we live together in the boarding house provided by the agency. We stay there while preparing to leave the Philippines for work in Hong Kong. We were just two hopeful women chasing opportunity—but something clicked. Strangers at first both excitement in our eyes, or the way we both tried to hide our fears with laughter. From that moment on, we became close. Whatever it was, that moment sparked a friendship that would last more than a decade.      training center in the Philippines  Day-Off Rituals and City Adventures Once we arrived in Hong Kong, life got ...

I'm sharing a piece of my heart today.   For over nine years, I thrived in Hong Kong, and now I’m embracing new experiences in Finland. Meanwhile, my son, Louie, along with his older sister, Yssah, and younger sister, Lyssah, has been in the Philippines. Despite missing birthdays, hugs, and quiet moments, my love for them has never wavered. Having Louie with me in Finland now is a remarkable blessing, and I am proud to witness his journey as he evolves into the artist he was always destined to be. This poem is dedicated to him—for Totoy, my shy yet sweet boy, who once dreamt of robots and now passionately paints portraits. I wrote this to celebrate his journey, our bond, and the joy of supporting him as he pursues his dreams. I look forward to the day when we’ll all be together again—   You, me, your ate, and your little sister.   A complete family, sharing laughter, love, and life. Today, as he turns 19, I proudly dedicate this poem to him.   To ...

Dreaming in Color: My Journey into Art They say pictures can tell more than words can say. L I did not dream to be an artist nor to be a poet.   But now, can I dream to be one? The Beginning of Something Beautiful I love painting, but I don't know how to sketch or paint. I try to draw—October last year (2019)—using oil pastel as a start. Maybe because I was challenged to do so, and I was in a group with lots of great artists. Ate Karla, Madam Suzette, and the PH fam inspire me to paint. And then I start watching a YouTube tutorial about painting.   And I found out, I can paint. Isn't it great, right? That moment was more than just trying something new—it was the start of discovering a hidden part of myself. The encouragement from others and the joy of learning gave me a sense of purpose I hadn’t felt before.   A Leap into the Unknown After six years of working closely with my employer and her family, they relocated to London, prompting me to seek new opportuniti...

The Pillow Conspiracy: Why You Should Never Host Marites Hour Before a Morning Shift Let me paint you a picture. It’s 9:20 PM on a quiet evening. I’m curled up in my third-floor apartment, ready to wind down when suddenly—ringing doorbells, continuously and urgently… Yvette opened the door. It was Aimee, and just after she closed it, someone knocked again, impatiently. I opened the door. It was Rizel. My two friends and workmates from the first floor arrived like undercover agents and hungry dragons. They were on the evening shift. We weren’t just catching up; we were entering full-blown Marites Mode. By 9:25 PM, we were deep into a passionate discussion about corruption in the Philippines. From pork barrel scandals to ghost projects, we dissected every shady deal with the fervor of political analysts with zero credentials but maximum emotion. The rage was real. Then, like any good Filipino conversation, the topic naturally shifted to love life. The snacks inclu...

I wrote this poem 11 years ago, during a time when my heart was overflowing with longing. It recently popped up in my Facebook memories, and reading it again brought back a wave of emotion. Some nights feel colder than others not because of the weather, but because of the ache of missing someone. Loneliness creeps in, and memories become vivid dreams.  This poem was written in one of those moments, when longing becomes louder than silence and love feels both distant and eternal and the deep ache of love that refuses to fade.  If you've ever yearned for just one more night with someone you love, this is for you. The Poem Thinking of you in my sleepless, lonely, cold night,   That I'm looking into your eyes,   Kissing me and touching me tonight.   But your distance is like stars and moon at night.   If loving you is not right,   Then I don't care and I don't mind.   If loving you is a crime,   Then...