Buttocks are not there,
for the sole purpose of sitting,
they seperate the legs from the waist,
carry the torso and head,
their shapely form, holds up the back
sways and swishes as one walks,
for some, the curves magnetize
others do not succumb, it is but
common place, often called bum, rump
or behind, a sometime place for punishment
and to be reminded, may be patted, pinched
kissed or caressed, dressed to attract
has a life of its own, and other functions
well known
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is for once a good fun piece of a poem with a truth in it, on which everyone is ready to sit down along in line for a bit of rest in this hasty world!