Kim Barney Poems
Comments about Kim Barney
Last night I went to bed at eleven
And dreamed I went to Poetry Heaven.
Keeper of the Gate was not Saint Peter
But Robert Frost - - hey, what could be sweeter?
The first person I saw up there
was sitting in a golden chair.
It was my good friend, Hank Beuning,
And a golden guitar he was tuning.
Hank, I said, I've known you for years.
We've had some laughs, we've had some tears,
And I never knew you played the guitar!
He said, well, I don't, at least not so far,
But I've got lots of time with little to do
So I thought I might try to learn ...
Methuselah ate what he found on his plate,
and never, as people do now,
did he note the amount of the calorie count;
he ate it because it was chow.
He wasn't disturbed as at dinner he sat,
devouring a roast or a pie,
to think it was lacking in granular fat
or a couple of vitamins shy.
He cheerfully chewed each species of food,