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Lynn Al-Abiad Oct 2016
Ylang-Ylang. Viscaria. Protea. Orchid. Magnolia. Lotus. Hibiscus. Gorse. Gardenia. Englantine Rose. Dandelion. Daisy. Cherry Blossom. Campanula. Chamomile.
Pure. Peaceful. Innocent. Flowers.
Flowers don't hurt. They only do if you want them to.



- LynnAA
12/10/2016
It was just one of those days
when the haze of summer had just started to lull the suburbs
into a sticky heat
of grills and lawn mowers
of air conditioning
(everyone pretended not to use it; windows! barked the mothers, windows!)

and the sweat stuck to the brows
of the life guards
napping in the sun
above an empty pool
the Dawson pool.

No one ever swam there
and the lifeguards knew it
those teenagers, sunning themselves lazily on hot days like this
(and the mothers! They complained about the tans. Cancer! the said.
In a way they were right,
but really.)

The waters were clear but the fences were rusted
the diving boards were falling
throwing themselves off the deep end

Katydids
lawnmowers
those lazy days
and the mothers! the constant nagging of soccer moms
lulled around the pool
on the day
Cassandra
took her
last
swim

Her face was like shoe leather
tanned by no fewer than 98 summers spent on porch swings
plodded slowly,
like  her feet were considering
every
last
step
this woman presented her 5 dollars to the girl at the gate
(some surprised lifeguard, because, you see, no one ever swam in Dawson pool)
and pushed inside.

Cassandra never left her porch.
and the mothers! how they scolded their children for teasing her
(even though they had done the same thing at that age.
That's how old Cassandra was).
Decades of the suburbs
and push mowers
and world wars
stayed like photograph around her face.

The lifeguards stared.
Cassandra kicked off her flip flops and shrugged off her mumu.
In a pink bathing suit she sank into the water.

The age melted off of her as she danced through the water
graceful
strong
the strokes were slow and deliberate
and the lifeguards watched as she pulled herself from one end of the pool to another and back.
She made 16 rings
remembering her childhood
23 more
for her marriage
and then 60
60 rings!
before she stopped.
60 years old, the year her husband died.
The year she had stopped talking
aside from the hushed prayers in church
but she was talking to him; that didn't count.
60 rings.

And Cassandra just disappeared.

No one found the body
no one found anything
aside from flip flops and a mumu.
The lifeguards were nearly scandalized
for letting Cassandra drown
but soon she went from a news story to a ghost
and the mothers! sniped at their children
for whispering
"Did you here about old Ms. Cassandra?
They say she found God."
Yhinyhin Tan Apr 2023
“Sige may mumu dyan!”
Noong bata ako mandalas itong sabihin sa akin ni mama para iwasan ko ang mga delikadong lugar na magpapahamak sa akin.

At habang nagkakaedad ako
Napagtanto ko na may mas nakakatakot pa pala kaysa sa mga multo
Na mas dapat kong pagtuunan ng pansin.

Ito ang mga mapanghusgang  lipunan
Mga mata nilang sumsukat sa iyong pagkatao
At mga opinyon nilang sisira sa iyong sariling kumpiyansa

Sa kabila nito, ipinagpapasalamat ko pa rin
Na sinunod ko noon si Mama
At isinapuso ang mga payo niya.

Dahil kahit napapalibutan pa ako ng mapanghusgang lipunan
Mga matang sumusukat sa aking kakayahan,
At mga salita nilang pilit sumisira sa kumpiyansa ko

Heto ako, nananatiling matatag
At ipinaglalaban ang prinsipiyong pinaniniwalaan ko.
Nasulat ko ito while wandering inside the CASA SAN PABLO. Nakita ko kasi 'yong babysitter ng isa bata, papunta sa sa hagdan kasi ang bata at para hindi ito mamali ng lakad ang sabi ng nagbabantay sa kaniya "Sige, may mumu dyan."
Tapos ang dami ko na naisip haha
*****

Men sometimes put no value to *** and the sacred decision a woman might hold dear for the reason to
Submit options of letting you indulge in her essences. See some have had men all over the world and there is one thing for
Sure that ***** has a name never a face, Mumu , myse ,kisse, pepita, catellus, passera, mita it  all mean
The same thing *****, *****, *****. And the truth of the matter is your sometimes not remembered or
Even thought about once you give the ***** up!
So guard and respect your ***** and you’ll be wiser for not giving it up, I thought of all the times I
Gave up my ***** and grieving the next day he was gone, nothing but a memory of the ****** he either didn’t
Or did put on! I have disrespected my body for a moment of pleasure far too valuable to get rid of, and
The 15 minutes or less or if I’m lucky an hour of pleasure soon will be forgotten as he’s on to the next one
Or back with his main love or the one whose holding out, but she worth waiting for.
***** is abuse sometimes tainted with the smell of ***** left inside you with your naïve ***, I’m not going
Anywhere imma be here for you, trust me so the ***** stinks reeks of disappointment!
As they get dressed to leave a delicate kiss on the forehead and a polite thanks for the *****!
Don’t be this chick (hold out on giving up the *****, be known for your worth)
You’re so much more than *** or *****! I now know my worth!

Written by Monica Chrisandtras Hines 9/16/2014
You have to be selective and or practice abstinence in order to be valued ,some women get lucky and he does come back the next day ,but for how long ? Men like to chase and if you give it up too easy its a waste of time ,hes no longer interested and will soon prowl for another ! Keep it to your self till the time is right ,if he won't wait then forget about him!
Go in for the solo invade
Man, this guy is really good.

Is this Jesus?
Probably.

Soloing baron,
All the while wearing
A straw hat.
Communists are fat.

Even though they don't have food.
really good mumu
Valerie Feb 2014
"Four - Breaking Even"
February 4th, 2014
Valerie Viele

I am a creation. I am a maiden. I am a creator. I am a crone.
I am dawn. I am noon. I am evening. I am midnight.
I am a girl. I am a temptress. I am a neither. I am a goddess.
I am a daughter. I am a *****. I am a mother. I am a lineage.
I am a sister. I am a best friend. I am a vague acquaintance. I am a messenger.
I am a child. I am a ******. I am a lover. I am a wife.
I am a princess. I am a beauty queen. I am a damsel in distress. I am a warrior.
I am a daisy. I am a snapdragon. I am a rose bud. I am a lilly.
I am a smile. I am a wink. I am a laugh. I am a snort.
I am a frown. I am a cold shoulder. I am a forgiver. I am a resolver.
I am a question. I am a questioner. I am a question mark. I am a answer.
I am a butterfly kiss. I am a bumble bee sting. I am a cicada hiss. I am a caterpillar tickle.
I am a cupcake. I am a box of chocolates. I am a glass of wine. I am a bowl of oatmeal.
I am a doll. I am a model. I am a celebrity. I am a infamous figure.
I am a game master. I am a rule-breaker.  I am a tyrant. I am a player.
I am a brat. I am a train-wreck. I am a witty retort. I am a knowing silence.
I am a ballerina. I am a dancer. I am a performer. I am a choregrapher.
I am a goodie two shoes. I am straight "A." I am a graduate. I am a mentor.
I am a tomboy. I am a mess. I am a fresh-pressed suit. I am a mumu.
I am a sneer. I am a red pair of lips. I am a pout. I am a broad grin.
I am a skinned knee. I am a bruised ego. I am a battered soul. I am a healed heart.
I am a piece of candy.  I am a piece of work. I am a master piece. I am a peace of mind.
I am a bubble gum "POP!" I am a whip-smart "CRACK!" I am a below the belt "BLOW!" I am a humble "WHISTLE!"
I am a kick. I am a slap. I am a hit and run. I am a sly trip.
I am a hug. I am a kiss. I am a ****. I am a cuddle.
I am a favorite. I am a nobody. I am a somebody. I am a everybody.
I am a challenge. I am a one-sided opinion. I am a worthy debate.  I am a open mind.
I am a bicycle. I am a fast car. I am a train. I am a stroll.
I am a pony tail. I am a bleach blonde. I am a practical bob. I am a braid.
I am a bracelet. I am a gold ring. I am a necklace. I am a bead.
I am a broken bone. I am a victim. I am a rescuer. I am a nurse.
I am a singer. I am a song. I am a composer. I am a listener.
I am a leader.  I am a runaway. I am a follower. I am a team.
I am a bubble bath.  I am a long shower. I am a quick rinse. I am a ocean dip.
I am a pond. I am a frozen lake. I am a waterfall. I am a river.
I am a castle. I am a tall tower. I am a skyscraper. I am a bridge.
I am a banshee. I am a blood-curdling scream. I am a yelp. I am a squeak.
I am a pretender. I am a liar. I am a deceiver. I am a revealer.
I am a sob. I am a woe-is-me. I am a wallow. I am a single tear.
I am a why? I am a why not? I am a no. I am a yes.
I am a sleep over. I am a house party. I am a coffee break. I am a tea time.
I am a today. I am a now. I am a tomorrow. I am a yesterday.


SSK<3
This poem can be read traditionally, right to left, top to bottom.
Or you can read it top to bottom, by each column separated by a period.  There are four columns.
Example:  I am a creation. I am dawn. I am a girl.
OR
I am a maiden. I am noon. I am a temptress. I am a *****.

You get it. :)
Molly Nov 2013
Do Thee Wed

“As the wedding day approached - June 14, 1938, Gertrude continued to confess her reluctance. Delmore’s apprehension expressed itself in fits of nausea and vomiting, and his mother announced that she wished she was dead.”

“When is the when is the --
(I’m going to be sick.)
“Now what is the how how how soon?”
(I’m going to be sick.)

Gertrude’s in her mumu, blonde hair in a mat,
setting flame to glossy pages of her bridal magazine.
Ashes fall to the carpet like distress flares, burning
mascara clumps on the pink **** rug.
She mumbles how soon,
how soon, how soon?

And my mom, she’s climbed up on roof
and begun to pace from end to end,
moaning like a *****, fanning herself with her hands.
Dad’s in the yard making a spectacle and -
Oh, I’m feeling sick again.

The beams bend like matchsticks
under mom’s panicked corpulence
as she nears the edge of the roof.
At the sight of her my father
slaps his hand over his heart
and sings, “Here comes the bride,
big, fat, and wide..”

I leave Gertrude babbling and rocking on the couch
(“I just don’t know now, darling, how how how soon?”)
and I slink in silence out the door.
Beyond my mother and father,
down the sidewalk out of sight,
I finally ***** on my shoes.
Babatunde Raimi Nov 2019
I could go to jail for you
Break banks for you
All you need is just ask
Because without you
There isn't me

You were an answered prayer
The solution to my secret tears
You gave my life a meaning
You; the oxygen that I breathe
Now i know love truly exist

We dreamt and made vows
Everyone wanted to be "Us"
Before angels we made promises
Witnessed by Venus
The god of love

You were the sun that lightened my world
The moon that brightened my day
As a star, you illuminated my heart
You, my one and only "Mumu Button"

With you, I need no validation
You never looked at my past
To create our glorious future
Once, I was asked to define unconditional love
I smiled, and just looked at you...
Reine Monroe Sep 2016
My eyes are windows to the living,
I am not dead yet,
Beyond the dead , I'm alive,
Alive child,
A wild child.

My brows mean as MuMu says
"Look into my eyes chile!"

My mental state is a dollhouse...
I play out scenes in my mind,
As I'm seeing my way out the windows...
Out of the window and into your worlds,
Different stories,
Your alive just like I...
You know in a way we are alike,
You & Me.
Our souls brings the best of feelings,
Flowers blooming in the spring,
Oh i wish ...
I close my windows,
& my dollies fall back into an abyss,
Chained away in a rusty old treasure chest,

Oh God, Dear God,
How can i make a dollhouse for the dollies to live in,
I'm alive ,
But my dollies are in a chest of sin,
I want to break the ribs and reach in to save my ole' friends,
They are plastic but they are my only kin,
**** they are my best friends,

Lips big as blow up dolls,
Their body weight is 80% of alcohol,
It's how i made them...
Their clothes are made out of
The blood I bathe in,
Latex leggings and waist clinchers,
Pale as the purest sand,
Balloon fake ****,
Contoured cheekbones,
You would think they were Bratz clones...

My dollies need a H.O.M.E
His days in the saddle long ago spent
and grand children in school or on vacation
(he could never tell which)
Old Mr. H took
to gardening.

One day, he was bent over with a rake in hand
over some big bulbs
peonies or tulips, he wasn't sure
and then
he just
stopped.

The world was not as he had known it.
It is the curse of age, he supposed.
And he was lonely,
people so far away
his wife three miles over and six feet deep.
She didn't bother him much.
After the first ten years, the pain had mellowed out
and another ten,
while not forgotten,
it was dulled.
Still,
there was not a magnet on his fridge
and no new smudges on the front welcome mat
'side from ones from his own boots.
The flowers kept him company,
but they weren't much good for talking.
And all the while
the sun would whisper things
clicking like a clock
till his own last day.

Mr. H,
he lit a cigarette
picked a flower
and walked next door
where pretty Miss Diane, widowed for fifty years
sat with some sweet lemonade and a floral mumu.

Excuse me, Miss
*I think these are for you.
magicbroccoli66 Sep 2017
wunteim i sad to mee mumu wor i *** gee
shaggie sakid we nood to do de smokeng
i sed noo is a bood goy
@lostboy
emzee Jan 2023
MuMu loves ZuZu more than anything. MuMu always find time to talk with ZuZu. But recently ZuZu is getting late for the visit . MuMu is sad about that.

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4673519/made-with/
Babatunde Raimi Aug 2020
My light, my shining armour
My joy, the king of my jungle
In whose hands I burn like fire
My "Numero uno" Alpha Male
"Guy, I love you scatter"
"You see all these package, na you get am"
"No shelempa for you"

You turned me on, got me confused
Then you slowly pulled back and watched me
As I fell from the skies into your broad arms
Deliberately I delayed the kiss I earnestly yearned for
Because I wanted you to be my last everything
You sure didn't disappoint Sugar

My smootchie smootchie cutie pie
My Tarzan with whom I always feel secured
Our love cannot be separated by distance nor time
Neighte can race, tribe or religion stop our union
Because when I found you, I found me
I love you honey bunny, Kitty Cat

I caught the love bug when we first met
I'll tell the world about my Braveheart
My Merlin, My Super Hero and Tarzan
I bless you with the blessings of the breast
In blessings, you will be blessed and favoured
With me in your boat, it shall be liftings and testimonies galore

When I fall, I fall and love "yakata"
Just press my "Mumu button" and I'm yours
But you've got to do the needful My Love
Oh! How they mocked and laughed
And while they mocked I prayed like Hannah
Just one second to my shame You "Agbanilagbatan" showed up

My creamy yummy, milky shaky
My melting mozzarella and "tasansan tantalizers"
My king, my world, my everything
Forever I'll be your "Odozi-Oriaku"
Your one and only  "Asa Nwa", the  mother of your unborn children
I bless heavens the day our paths crossed
Becauss of a truth, "Chimamanda"
Babatunde Raimi May 2020
Why do we apologise at night
Because of the champions league
Increases the propensity to win
And nights are for action
That joy may come in the morning
Afterall, stars shines brightest at night

When we apologize at night
We are sure of "The promised land"
Maybe not night like night
Bur definitely before dawn
Oh! How I relish those fine moments
A night of bliss and "jollification"
Afterall, "Who pride help"

Other times when I say "Sorry"
It's to allow the night shift run smoothly
So, we can enter paradise
With valid particulars and license
Such we hours are solemn
It's not a time to be proud
Be calm and yet intentional

Sometimes, in your dreams
In the deadness of the night you hear
"Please wake up, i want to talk to you"
Say, "I am sorry", even if you aren't
You know what? That is wisdom
Such sleepy nights, not for "Koboko"

Men, so powerful and strong by day
And weak at night...
Let me warn you, be prepared
It might come with requests
And your answers can only be "Yes"
With a fully charged "Koboko"
Heaven help you if the gate is suddenly shut

I just love apologising at night
It comes with benefits and memories
It makes it soothingly gratifying
To optimize your performance at sunset
Say "Sorry", then worship in her altar
But you must have her "Passcode"
Else, you are no better than a rappist

At such special times Ladies
The Mumu button is all yours
Use and press it wisely
That's the time to ask
Afterall, a promise is a debt
And a promisor is enslaved to a promisee
That's how powerful a woman is
Let me just call it "Bottom Power"
Musa Nov 2020
Do you reminisce on those days?
Where I would drag my self between your stripes,
With warm hands and arms longer as love,
You would let me curly my self around them.

With only symphonies of my cry,
You would mouthful say," weep on my stripes,
For they are the colour of your tears",
Did you really love me that much?

You never judged me,neither question me,
You would always let me compose my raging terror within your warmth,
Enveloping me with wamrth, how did you do it?
Its like you knew all my troubles,but still chose to embrace me.

I would bury my self within you all day long,you never complained,
You carried me even if the other leg of your shape had been amputed by my size,still you carried me, I would threw my self onto you.
Why were you so kind to me?

Leave you unmade for hours, waking up from the call of insomnia,
I would heavy you with my worries, speak my anger out as I tap you from your tranquility,
My bed,my beautiful bed, did you ever get tired of me?

I still crave for those long nights of awakening,
That untiredness you had,
Its a pity when long friends depart
Do you promise me not to forget about me?

I had inscribed the mementos we had on the walls of my chest,
Buried the stories of  our years on this lips,for they shall retell your kindness and mercy on me,
What had I done to deserve your love? You loved me dearly and deeply.

As I burn you to your age, would you take some memories with you?
May this remains of your ashes remind me of your kindness,
May they remind me of how loyal you had been to me,
May this ashes of your flesh,be a permanent constant concrete reminder.
©MUMU DA POET®

— The End —