A Splinter on my Cross
By John Kaniecki
You’re a splinter on my cross
The memory of your wrong
Is vivid and strong
Satan alone to gain
Both our loss
Excruciating pain
You’re a splinter on my cross
In Jail Published on Jerry Jazz
By John Kaniecki
Says the hood to the guard
“Aw man don’t you know life is hard?”
Said the guard to the hood
Said the guard to the hood
“Aw man it’s just that you ain’t no good!”
The prisoner clenches his fists on the cold steel bars
And gave the officer a serious stare
“Brother I don’t know who you are,
“But I certainly know that you don’t care!!”
The blue uniformed man’s face turned red
Confused if he felt anger or shame
Screaming, “Man your kind should all be dead,
“You ain’t got nobody but yourself to blame!!”
In the cage he sought to control his rage
The guard with nothing further to say
Simply walked away
Another criminal called from a distant cell
“Man don’t you know they gonna give you hell?”
The human being, God’s very own special creation
Replied stoically without hesitation
“If they give me hell that would be bliss
“Cause even hell is better than this.”
Sylvia’s Garden Published in Westward Quarterly
Before the sun rises in the end of winter’s death
With chilly hands and frigid breath
Working the soil with rake and hoe
Knowing come summer a blessing to grow
Carefully placing precious seed in pot
Each cherished child never forgot
Watered and watched until they sprout
Green little creatures coming out
Early spring, past the last frost
Praying to God not one to be lost
In the soil measured apart
With cautious hands and loving heart
Early morn to water with hose
Fulfilling expectations the garden grows
Repeating the watering in the eve
Love is doing what you believe
In summer heat a bounteous place
Smiles all over Sylvia’s face
Fresh lettuce and tomato to pick at will
Mother Earth sharing her thrill
Fall comes and we harvest more
Sharing with Trevor and Ron next door
Resting now as the labor is past
How the season has gone so fast!
Looking over the garden leaves in decay
I am confident of another day
Sylvia’s garden will reappear
As long as the Lord gives us another year
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