You know that hair,
Down you know where?
There must be a reason,
Why it’s there.
Perhaps to keep,
Your naughty bits warm?
Protect them from
An insect swarm?
Your muff, your bush,
Whatever it’s called,
It’s expected now
To be quite bald.
Way back in,
Previous centuries,
Up till the 1970s,
A natural bush was
Oft desired, loved,
Admired and required.
But alas, the times,
And look have changed.
Pubes styled and dyed,
And rearranged.
A prepubescent look is craved.
And thus our beavers
Are now shaved.

Submitted for Funny Bunny Fridays Week 2

17 thoughts on “Shaved

    • Thanks. After last week’s very personal and pain-ridden poem, this week I wanted to submit something a bit more…lighthearted. 🙂

  1. Having just taught puberty lessons to fifth graders just a few weeks ago, including the forthcoming appearance of pubic hair, this cracked me up. Thanks – it was fun to read.


  2. Bush! That’s a good band. It’s the technological take over — machines don’t have hair, so we like our ladies like we like our robots, smoothly plastic. Good poem. How does one muff dive without a muff?

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