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Abstract

bra’s, all saggy and sloppy, seemingly striped with all kinds of glutinous pockets. I know of two big pockets hanging over my thighs, just waiting to pop out. I wonder if I will ever lose their weight, or if they will stay when I do. They are unwelcome visitors, and I sure hope they don’t feel welcome enough to stay, with all their rocking and rolling to the beat of my walking.Sun awake Me, someday to shake off this load.My Butt by Nolcha FoxI swear it spread and swelled while I was sleeping. It takes up more than half the bed. It wiggles when I’m not. What gives? What jeans can hide this thing? What sweater can I wear to not reveal this monster eating all the chocolate cake and pecan pie in the refrigerator?Girlfriend, I think my butt is getting bigger.published in MuddyUmBubble Butt by <a href="undefined">Kosmicegg Project</a>This was my nickname at Park Hill elementary school and remained to those who knew me through high school. I was scrawny except for my butt. Even my grandmother would comment that I should be grateful to have a real butt to sit down on, and turn to show me her very non-existent butt. “How would you like this?” So I stopped crying about it.Teasing a four-eyed girl About her bubble-butt and strong Focused day-dreams is sweet.At nine years old, th

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is was my first experience with flirting. The metaphorical tug on pigtails that I did not have. As I swung from cold metal bar to bar, I imagined being Pippy Longstocking, and conquering this very strange, semi-delightful, semi-terrifying new world.I needed a spy Glass to see what was ahead Of playing with dolls.From Behind by Tina HudakMy butt was no laughing matter in my younger years. Attached to hips a bit too wide for one size, I lived in between this and that. I was the Barbie doll design ripped up and thrown away. Never for another day or a rainy day or any day. Throughout the decades I have come to appreciate it. Age is the great leveler. Now, should I fall on my butt, no harm done. While the cushion is somewhat deflated, it protects and softens any hard blow. Sitting for long hours at a time causes no distress, so I can bear an almost three-hour movie without discomfort. While clothing, fitting like the glove I never owned, remains elusive, at night when I lay on my stomach in bed, covers tucked in around me, and the cat curled upon the small mound so he can survey all before him, I smile before sleep.One size never fits all that it should or could. My butt proves this truth.<figure id="bd83"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*2uBfk37154nyqPx7oe3-1Q.png"><figcaption>Brand art by Gael MacLean</figcaption></figure></article></body>

HAIBUN CHALLENGE

Haibun Poetry Challenge Day 30

My butt

Please consider submitting a haibun to the Garden of Neuro on Medium! A haibun is a combination of prose and haiku.

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Today’s prompt: my butt

My Derriere by Annette K. Riddle

Mine resembles the Zebra’s, all saggy and sloppy, seemingly striped with all kinds of glutinous pockets. I know of two big pockets hanging over my thighs, just waiting to pop out. I wonder if I will ever lose their weight, or if they will stay when I do. They are unwelcome visitors, and I sure hope they don’t feel welcome enough to stay, with all their rocking and rolling to the beat of my walking.

Sun awake Me, someday to shake off this load.

My Butt by Nolcha Fox

I swear it spread and swelled while I was sleeping. It takes up more than half the bed. It wiggles when I’m not. What gives? What jeans can hide this thing? What sweater can I wear to not reveal this monster eating all the chocolate cake and pecan pie in the refrigerator?

Girlfriend, I think my butt is getting bigger.

published in MuddyUm

Bubble Butt by Kosmicegg Project

This was my nickname at Park Hill elementary school and remained to those who knew me through high school. I was scrawny except for my butt. Even my grandmother would comment that I should be grateful to have a real butt to sit down on, and turn to show me her very non-existent butt. “How would you like this?” So I stopped crying about it.

Teasing a four-eyed girl About her bubble-butt and strong Focused day-dreams is sweet.

At nine years old, this was my first experience with flirting. The metaphorical tug on pigtails that I did not have. As I swung from cold metal bar to bar, I imagined being Pippy Longstocking, and conquering this very strange, semi-delightful, semi-terrifying new world.

I needed a spy Glass to see what was ahead Of playing with dolls.

From Behind by Tina Hudak

My butt was no laughing matter in my younger years. Attached to hips a bit too wide for one size, I lived in between this and that. I was the Barbie doll design ripped up and thrown away. Never for another day or a rainy day or any day. Throughout the decades I have come to appreciate it. Age is the great leveler. Now, should I fall on my butt, no harm done. While the cushion is somewhat deflated, it protects and softens any hard blow. Sitting for long hours at a time causes no distress, so I can bear an almost three-hour movie without discomfort. While clothing, fitting like the glove I never owned, remains elusive, at night when I lay on my stomach in bed, covers tucked in around me, and the cat curled upon the small mound so he can survey all before him, I smile before sleep.

One size never fits all that it should or could. My butt proves this truth.