My Own Private Ulysses: One Cheat Day

One Cheat Day

On one honey heated Thursday in June,

Fast we all roam to eat sweets and not yield.

While they call our feast day junk food, jejune,

With their fast zeal, treats remain unrevealed.

We follow Bloom’s plunge through every slow street,

While bedsheets back home throe under the plunder

Of one unsated foe’s stately plump meat,

Who snakes the wife’s pipes like a pro plumber.

Diets command caloric restriction,

But when the heat of one euphoric pair

Cools off, duty demands dereliction.

So, pare down cold fare and dare an affair.

Old Bloom does mix up love with food in one mash.

His wish: fix up a new dish, one down to smash.

Stay tuned for more sugary sonnets.

Same hankering time, same hanky-panky channel.

My Own Private Ulysses: Sh-Boom, Sh-Bloom

Henri Rousseau, The Dream

Sh-Boom, Sh-Bloom

Here comes Princess Gerty, damn she’s dirty.

Hikes up her skirty, my heart’s a-boom boom boom.

Any higher, I’ll likely go squirty.

I’m busting to burst, I’m Leopold Bloom.

She’s a sheen machine, keeps her motor clean.

She’s revving my engine, vroom-a vroom vroom.

Legs lean, red corvette between, purrs unseen.

Hello Kitty, I’m Chitty Chitty Bloom Bloom.

Redlining RPM gage, ‘bout to blow,

Like Jeffery Toobin on a Zoom Zoom Zoom.

Me too, my freaky creep show’s off the down low.

Queen Molly finds out, it’s a-doom doom doom.

That’s life on REM stage with Leopold Bloom,

Where wet dreams swell up and pipes go ka-boom.

Stay tuned for more soaking sonnets.

Same teeming time, same churning channel.

My Own Private Ulysses: Grubby Street

Today’s Hemingway Half-Dozen Prose Poem:

Weary Feet?

Bloom's Concrete

Love Seat