The Pear

An Old School Ode Upon a Cute Bottom

I like big butts and I cannot lie.
- Sir Mixalot, "Baby Hath Back"

Like Sir Mixalot, I cannot lie about a love I have that darest not speak its name. Well, not in front of my girlfriend, anyway. Blame it on Rio, or more specifically on Brazilian bombshell Keity Ines.


Keity Ines defines the form

Or blame it on her neighbor, comely Colombian cutie Lucia Tovar.


Lucia Tovar rests her case

Or blame it on rudely robust Romanian pornstar Sandra Romaine.


Sandra Romaine shows off her assets

Or blame it on any number of well-rounded women whose pear-shaped bottoms (perhaps definitively defined in the textbook photo below) have inspired me to take pen to paper and write these lines in tribute to their haunty haunches. For these women's forms give substance to the idea that there may be a divine designer who shapes our "ends" (rough hew them though we may).



Herein is my poem about the pear-shaped bottom and why it appeals to the baser instincts of men like me who slavishly follow the biological imperatives of their genetic code. For like Andrew Marvel, I believe a woman's beauty is equal to the sum of her parts. But some parts are more equal than others.

THE PEAR:
An Old School Ode Upon a Cute Bottom
by T. S. Warner



PART I:THE INVOCATION

I am The Dreamer who dreams The Dream
I am The Weaver who weaves what is with what it seems
I am The Poet whose lofty thoughts would take wing
Invoke me, milady, and to thy wonders will I sing

PART II:THE FRUIT OF THE MATTER

I would like to say that I fell in love
With the first glance of your fair face
But in truth your wonder was revealed to me
As was the Nightengale to Keats, perched in a tree
But my bough bore fruit, a most perfect pear
I mean, my lady, your lovely derriere

PART III: THE DEVIL MADE ME DO IT

Like Eve you tempted me to taste forbidden fruit
And with hungry eyes I consumed you to the core
And found not, like Adam, a rotten apple
But a glutton's craving for yet more

PART IV: SHE BLINDED ME WITH SCIENCE

For every action there's an equal and opposite reaction
States Mr. Newton's Third Law of Motion
Thus the hypothesis of your undulating perfection
Finds its proof in my corresponding emotion

Yet the buoyancy of your ripened mounds
Would cause Newton to question his own sanity
For he tells us an apple is inclined towards the ground
While your hanging fruit defies gravity

PART V: AVON CALLING

So if, as the Bard of Avon claims
A divine hand shapes our ends
Then I'll devoutly worship yours
And cry to the Heavens, "Amen!"

PART VI: IT'S ALL GREEK TO ME

Yes gladly would I forsake the world for you, mon amour
As did the Lotus-Eaters, who vowed to sail no more
Content to worship a magic fruit the remainder of their days
So I remain entranced by your soft-skinned pear in its hypnotic sway