A Pubic Hair Poem (from my new book of pubic hair poems "Poetry From Down Under")


Consider the lot of a pubic hair
Condemned to a life of just lying there
Never allowed a pigtail or a plait
Or a day at the races wearing a hat

 Not for the pube a conditioning rinse
(That thought alone would make most people wince)
Or the delight of a styling gel
To free it at last from its prison cell

 Instead it's obliged to live out its days
Hidden from raindrops and bright sunshine rays
Greeted more often with cries of "Oh no!"
When it pops out the odd time to say hello

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