Randall Barfield

Little Is Much

(For S.S. in Missouri)
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Dear poems of love
Will never stop flowing
We’ll always hear them
Or read them, glowing
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You’re young and fresh
Like sprouts in a greenhouse
Your skin is smooth,
Someone’s work of art
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'Oh Milly, ' said Molly
'Mother and her jokes.'
'Oh Molly, ' said Milly
'Her jokes and her blokes! '
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I don’t love your pic, I love your face

I’d like to see it pasted
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You place me daily on your rear burner

But the heat is just the same
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At least
You passed
Through my life
And I enjoyed
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Roses are red
But all of them aren’t
Some are yellow
Some pink and white
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Here I am
A little poem
Of just a few short lines
And there you are
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I’d rather have Jesus
And silver and gold
For how can I help
A friend if I’m cold?
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I’d love to set the world on fire
A few have done just that
But guess it isn’t in my stars
Or stripes or leaves or bars
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The very best poems
are likely written with love
or inspiration
from far above
...

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Fly me to the moon, Baby
You don’t need no tickets
You do need lips,
Full and sensuous, wet,
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A little poem for you, my child
Do take a chair and listen
Once I saw an Artic seal
That, wet, did not have time to glisten
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I don’t know about tomorrow
But this morning I feel fine
What an intricate, wonderful world
When we stroll up on cloud nine
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