Author: Ray Romine

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What? Another Poem On Weather?

0 the gentle summer
Rings delish tonight,
For the world is snowy–
Blanketed with white.

Warm and sulltry evenings–
Elegant they sound,
For outside is zero;
Frozen is the ground.

Craved we, all the summer,
Any other clime:
Heat is only pleasant
IN THE WINTER-TIME!

by Ray Romine Tuesday, December 5, 1944

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What’s The Rush?

Is there sense in all this bustle,
Rant and tear and hasty hustle?
Wouldn’t life be just as pleasant
If we took our time a bit?
All this speed and awful hurry,
All this nameless, ceaseless worry–
Wouldn’t earth turn just as smoothly
If we all slowed down a whit?

All day long from dawn to twilight,
From the cellar to the skylight,
Housewife works in maddened frenzy,
‘Til she’s on the verge of tears.
And at work her lord and master
Tries to do a little faster
Same old thing thet he’s been rushing
Every day for 20 years.

What is then our destination,
End of all our consternation?
There is only just one answer
I have ever found, to date:
It’s OBLIVION; and I’m certain
We can reech that final curtain
Juat as well by going slowly,
Without fear of being late!

Rush you on, then, world of flurry;
I for one am in no hurry
For Death to utter final sentence:
“Cough the sponge up, if you pliz.”
Death can yell and squawk and beckon,
But he’ll get good and tired, I reckon;
I don’t aim to run to meet him-
Life is short enough, as is!

by Ray Romine Sunday, September 11, 1938

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What Price Food

O harkit, O harkit to Jimmie’s Food Market,
At Cherry and Ellum Streets,
For he has all manner ·
Of things from the canner,
And Oooo what a line of meats!

And if my points weren’t gone, about,
I’d throw all this up and dash right out.
You can always park it at Jimmie’s Market,
If you’ve tires on your Chevvy, I mean;
It isn’t far,
If you’ve a car,
And a tankful of gasoline.

Yes, you can park at James’s Market,
But you gotta drive before you park it.

There’s yum and there’s more yum at Jim’s Food Emporium–
We’ll walk it, that’s what we’ll do!
But then I find
What’s slipped my mind–
That shoes’re rationed, too.

We’d walk in spite of gasoline,
If it weren’t for coupon seventeen.

It’s “Yessir”, and “No-sirree” at Jimmie-lad’s Grocery–
(The courtesy-center is it)
But I can’t, doggonitt,
Endure long uponitt,
When FOOD is so dash’d hard to git.

Politeness I could do with a little lessable
When groceries are so utterly inaccessible.

But it’s harkit, O harkit, lookout, Jimmie’s Market–
Here’re coupons that we’d overlooked;
And our neighbor’s amassed
Gas to get there at last,
Though a whole lot of trouble it tooked.
……………..
Please, Jimmie, repeat it, I can’t believe you said it–
You won’t sell me even a n onion on credit?”
It’s a wee bit ironic, or actually funny
After all we’ve been through, you can hold out FOR MONEY!

by Ray Romine Sunday, May 2, 1943

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What Price Ego?

Don’t castigate me, bawl me out,
Nor go so far, please, as to shout
My known shortcomings far and wide:
There is, you know, this thing called pride.
Beat me, rather; kick and shove
Than speak ill of the one I love!

by Ray Romine Saturday, December 1, 1951

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What is there in it?

“Just what do you see in this poetry?”
But he himself liked to fish;
He could linger for hours in the shade of a tree,
And watch the clouds, and wish.

“What is it you like in this poetry?”
But she herself liked to dance,
And music and rhythm and harmony
Reflected her happy glance.

The sun’ s on the snow, but this glare (to me)
May color your world today;
For , ever and ever, the poetry
Within us will find a way.

by Ray Romine Wednesday, January 10, 1945

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What A Swell Guy Is Our Mailman

PROLOGUE – THE MAILMAN ANALYZES HIMSELF

I’m p’lite and charming, sweet, and nice–
I spread it thick enough to slice:
I’m cheerful, happy, carefree, gay–
A pity I don’t stay that way!

PART the FIRST–EARLY MORN

To folk who live upon the first
Part of the route that I traverse,
I blithely call,”Good·Morning!” gaily,
I whistle, sing, and do so daily;
My every step is full of spring,
I effervesce, that sort of thing.
With head held high, erect go I,
Full of spirit, Do or Die.. .

To all these folks we idol be,
I, my ma-yil sack, and me.

PART SEC0ND– 10:00 a.m.

To folks along about the middle,
I am a funny sort of riddle:
Today I’m nice, refined, and sound,
Tomorrow, other way around;
One day I grouch, the next I smile,
Tuesday bubble, Wednesday, b’il.
People eye me tentatively–
For they are never sure of me,
As this is my uncertain spot–
Monday cold, and Tuesday, hot;
For whether I’m tired, as yet, or not,
Determines the postman they have got.

PART THIRD–11:45 a.m.

But comes the noon, and I’m half dead;
I’m half alive, but spirit’s fled.
I look and walk and act much older;
My fuel’s low; my fire is colder.
As I approach the nether end,
I’ve passed the place where I unbend;
Keeping upper lip from folding over
Is apt to make one stiff all over.
But ‘tho I may be ment’lly stiffer,
Physically I beg to differ.
I mooch along, half crouch, half stoop;
My necktie withers, shoestrings droop.
I scarcely crawl–I creep, I lag,
I barely move, I fold, I sag
As half I carry and half I drag
The empty but heavier mail-bag.

But O the change, in pefsonality!
From saintly mien to rascality:
I rudely stare at people who
Discuss the rain or sky of blue;
I crab, I frown, I snarl, I growl;
Year-old babies dread my scowl;
Little girls playing with littler brothers
Run and hide behind their mothers.
To folks who’d pass the time of day,
I tell, “Sure, yeah, some other day!”
To all these folks I IDLE be–
(They spell it a wee bit differently).

CONCLUSION

The moral of this small storee
Is that I walk too much for me!
I’d be quite a’ cheerful guy
If half-hour’s an hour had I…

The kind of impression that I give
Depends alone on where you live;
And if you’d like me to improve ;
The best advice I have IS MOVE!

by Ray Romine Saturday, May 1, 1943