While biking uphill...
Meme: "How long will it take us there?"
Mumu: "About an hour."
When they reached the top of the hill, Meme was surprised and said, "Why did you want me here?"
Mumu: "I want you to look around and see the World."
Meme: "The winds are so strong. They are pushing me away..."
Mumu: "I wouldn't let you drop from the top where you are standing right now."
Meme: "Is there something else that I need to know or see?"
Mumu: "You are just dreaming. I am from the Underworld. Wake up now... before I eat you alive!"
We were hillbillies when we lived in the north
But now that we are Floridians, we have to come forth
Admit that we love wearing pajamas and nighties all day
When I go outside, my attire scares the alligators away
Now we are known as beach bums, which is okay by me.
I can sit on a beach and eat crackers, and drink lemon tea
Not only in the summer, but in the winter and fall too.
I love living here with the rednecks, Trump true.
I like my mumu, can wear it outside to garden or water ski.
Since I am in my seventies, no one says anything to me.
I became invisible a few years ago thanks to my age.
Wow! We had two inches of water according to this little gauge.
I have new friends now, we play bridge and use walkers too.
Eat all the rich foods, some of us weigh two hundred and two.
Our waistbands are elastic, there are crocs on our feet.
Come over for some goodies the next time you want to eat.
I have one mumu
It disappeared a week ago
The second I stopped searching
I found it
I had accidentally turned it inside out
The inside is white and dull; boring
Nothing like the outside with orange and blue paisleys
Soft t-shirts, warm flannels, easy to step into
Cozy fleece, light cotton, stretchy elastic waistbands
Comfy nightgowns, flowered pajamas, and a mumu
Retirement encourages a new way to dress
Comfort over class, coziness over chic
Fashion is over the hill now
I live in the country
The only ones who see me are my husband and my dogs
she cannot get into clothes anymore
prefers a blue mumu or sweat pants
red meat eater from Iowa
well-fed with carbohydrates
rotund and Rubenesque
waddles into rooms
squat and stocky
overweight
chunky
bulk
it is one of those placid docile what-do-we-do April days.
I sit outside naked except for my light polyester mumu.
an airplane wakes the cloud with her powerful engine noises.
my wind chimes tingle a mirthful melody.
Sophie, my cocker spaniel sits behind me, she is an inside dog.
Buddy, our husky mix trots a giant six pound bone around in his mouth.
there is a car on Kansas Avenue, we cannot see it, but we hear it.
nothing else is moving until I spy a blue jay landing on a branch.
so light in hue, that he could be an arctic jay, he is the lightest gray.
annoyingly loud muscle car can be heard in the distance, tearing up a street.
roosters behind me begin to crow, even though it is noon.
melodic chimes heighten their melody as today’s breeze picks up.
trilling of birds gives me a reassuring thought of God in the yard.
behind me I hear the purr of our porch refrigerator.
if there has ever been a calmer day, I was not aware of it.
someone revs a car engine far off in the distance.
old man or boy, I think, or old lady in a mumu. This makes me smile.
What is her name? We asked those who lived on floor blue.
Her name is Moo, and she is always wearing a flowered mumu.
No someone argued; that cow’s name is Frank footer Sue.
Why would that be? We wondered. Does it seem weird to you?
Why would a cow be named Frank footer, Mr. Magoo?
Magoo looked rather sheepish, it is best what he’ll do.
Seriously I queried. Is her name Sue, Lou or Magnificent Moo?
Here she comes now he said. And she smells quite like pooh.
I think she smells lovely I told him, down to her shoe.
He guffawed and laughed, he is evil, this mean Mr. Magoo.
Her name is Moo as surely as I live on this wing in blue.
For sure she was wearing a flowered mumu.
A Poem in Pidgin English
Me, ma na SARS
I sabi drop bars
My gun ready to blast
Any youth wey dey drive cars
If tattoos na your singlet
We go treat you like piglet
If you no gree cooperate
Omo, you go catch bullet.
Me ma na politician
If you check, I be magician
I dey "pight" my brand of "kwarapshen"
Play ball, I go give you admission.
My certificate na banza
My account balance na fire
If I like I go make yanga
Even next time I go still dey power.
Me ma na Naija
Our mumu don end here
Una plans go backfire
Na my generation go matter
Una vision dey our museum
And we ready to change our condition
Even if una kill small portion
We go still carry out our mission.
Lekki na the catalyst
We go use am minimize fatalities
We don learn all una tactics
And we have all the relevant statistics
Baba God na our confidence
Next election una go see our relevance
We dey ready- no more reluctance
2023 una go see proper sense.
Come in and type practical side urges me
I laugh my petootsie off
IT'S TIME! Type A screams in my ear
I roll my eyes in disgust at being pressured
Sixty-seven degrees outside today
It lures me out, I sit in the sun
In my largest Mumu, enjoying my fat cells
Typing is for week days
It is five-thirty on a Friday night
Put your poems up! An inner voice screeches.
I refuse to be hurried.
This is almost gardening weather.
I watch a monarch fly past; amazed at my ability to ignore myself.
Wearing a mumu again today
Fooling myself into semi-believing
no one can tell I have gained too much weight
That my thighs rub together as I walk
And I am lumbering like a beast
Wearing a mumu again today
It has paint all over it
My justification for wearing it
For the third day in a row
Because I am painting today in my studio
Wearing a mumu again today
So my husband can wash
The gray T-shirt and scroungy coral shorts
I had previously worn
six days in a row
verification I am a pig
I am a sloth, a slob, a slug
During the summer when school is out.
I move in slow motion from chair to couch to bed.
I am in the throes of binge eating –
sugar, sugar, sugar, sugar, sugar and salt.
pie, cake, cinnamon rolls, pie, cake and chips.
I am sluggish.
I have gained eight pounds in the eight pounds I have been home
I can barely waddle from the living room couch to bed.
I am wearing an oversized purple and red mumu now.
You could fit a small calf in here with me but I may grow into it.
I am a sloth, a slob, as slug
During the summer when school is out.
I am the stereotype of a middle-age lady with grey hair
Working as a preschool teacher
Wearing mumu dresses in bright colors
A Sunday school teacher wanting to make it a full-time job
To whittle myself a new profession
I'm not the brightest crayon in the box
But, I know I can do it!
T' night after a peaceful bubbly sunset
And a well painted aftermath.
We 're about to stroll down
Alongside the Alawai Canal
Beneath aloha waving palm fronds
Carefully stepping around the biggest frogs
We've ever seen
At least twice the size of a normal bull frog
The radio station is disappearing into darkness
Lit up Kalakau boulevard replaces setting sunlight
We cross diagonally headed up from Lipipee Street
Towards our apartment home at 710 Pumehana
The cool onshore breeze ripples her mumu and my aloha shirt
The tiki bar across the bridge is as unlit as ever
The crowd and the owners discourage haolis
Enjoying the privacy of talking the kind
And the simple pleasures of neighborly friends
The pupu and beer flows freely as the night deepens
Teriyaki never tasted so good and picking lichees
on the way back over makes the night taste forever
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