My Own Private Ulysses: The Giving Headmistress

The following was inspired by a Top Contributor’s gracious advice regarding my sonnet, “Bloomsday Forecast - Cloudy with a Chance of Gorgonzola.”

“Switch out ‘Gorgonzola’ for ‘history!’”              

My headmistress gives this comic command.             

I like big rebuts, hers is blistery.                 

If I disobey, she’ll leave my ass tanned.             

“I love your irreverence and humour.”                  

Is her heart soft, my hard dominatrix?                

Oh, I wish! But I know she’s a groomer,               

Whose whip hand demands my tropes to turn tricks.     

But I’m down to play Bloom to her Bella.                   

I’m who sketched light verse in this shithouse stall, 

Seeking glory with some Cinderella,         

Deep inside the ink-black hole in the wall.           

Thank God this bond only lies on my phone.       

True-life Devil Girl would crumble my bone. 

Stay tuned for more big rebuts.

Same thick time, same juicy channel.

My Own Private Ulysses: Dr. Strangebloom

How I learned to stop worrying and love               

The book called Ulysses by Herr Satan.                

I tried to read every guide. Well, sort of.           

But my crooked path would never straighten.           

I joined James Joyce's prayer force: Nabokov,        

Kenner, Hart, Bloom – Harold, not Leopold.            

And prepared for takeoff with this Luftwaffe,         

But the cock-and-pulpit felt remote-controlled.      

When the mind-shaft gap widened toward doomsday,      

I blitzed through the bomb bay doors in time,         

to fall from grace to The Journal of Bloomsday,       

Where I abandoned all reason for rhyme.               

When lost and foundering in abysses,             

Win by finding your own private Ulysses.

Stay tuned for more strangesonnets.

Same strangetime, same strangechannel.

My Own Private Ulysses: Bloomsday Forecast - Cloudy with a Chance of Gorgonzola

“Father Conmee, reading his office, watched a flock of muttoning clouds over Rathcoffey.”

- Ulysses, James Joyce

What is the weather forecast for Bloomsday?           

Cloudy with a chance of Gorgonzola,                   

And a light drizzle, falling by midday,               

Of the good black stuff, not Coca-Cola.               

Expect warm gusts of thickly buttered toast           

With a morning milk mist and thick fog tea.          

And pork kidney waves crashing on the coast,          

Will improve air quality with faint pee.         

By dinner we’ll have gassy cider rain,                

Thundered potatoes and bolts of liver.           

Strong whisky winds could snap your weathervane.      

Black custard squalls will sweeten the river.         

But Poldy likes Molly's rump for desserty,     

And I have a sweet tooth for spicy Gerty.

Stay tuned for more stormy sonnets.

Same stratus time, same cumulus channel.