I am a Happy Bigot

I am a happy bigot,

cast as cruel and cavalier;

all are equally esteemed,

let me make that clear.


I am a happy bigot,

conscience gets my vote;

this mild minded contrarian

has no bile stuck in throat.


I am a happy bigot

but dissent not allowed;

can we calmly contend

far from madding crowd?


I am a happy bigot,

I’m mild minded – not mean;

don’t dare shout me down

with such shutdown spleen.


I am a happy bigot,

nuance begs for room;

why mock mercy message?

Christ-phobic, I presume?


Definitions of bigot: noun:   a prejudiced person who is intolerant

of any opinions differing from his own.


A Salt-souvenir Lingers


Dora Kazmierak https://www.instagram.com/dorakazmierak/


On a jagged shoreline

white tasselled waves

percussively pound;

unhindered, wind whisks

two solitaries, in silhouette,

searching this way and that.


Both disappear, then re-appear,

their rain-coated bodies bend;

their foraging fingers pull, pluck 

purply-green pod-bunches

of little-wanted beach weed:

sand-sprinkled Sea Purslane.


Bounty bagged, wet-cheeked

contenders run to their car,

wind slams doors decisively;

safely cocooned, exhilarated,

their breath mildews windows;

the casually cleaned screen creates

imprecise apertures, blurry views.

                                                                            Later, fruit of forage washed,

                                                                            presented on a pottery plate,

                                                                            the harvest’s rich reward:                                                                        

                                                                            Sea Purslane – nutty snack

                                                                            snap-crunched, slowly savoured,

                                                                            A salt-souvenir lingers on tongues

                                                                                                              And fingers…



Old Walls Hide Many Hopes


Do we need to pray in special places,

kneeling, hand-clasping, hiding our faces?

Even for sparrows, God’s deep concern!

  • no need for ritual, nor incense burn…


Old walls hide many hopes hand-written:

wails are uttered, weary souls are smitten;

such storied stones defy eternal intentions:

Messiah upturns rabbinic conventions.


  • * Over a million notes are placed each year… the notes are collected twice a year and buried on the nearby Mount of Olives. Traditionally women have not been “allowed” to pray at the Wailing Wall…

    The Wailing Wall, by Carl Werner (1808-1894)