Author: Ray Romine

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Thriller a La Hollywood

Leers and gasps and knowing looks;
Cops that dillydally;
Various kinds of hooded crooks
Stabbed in every alley.

One more trying ticklish time;
Things are taking shape;
One more heinous, baffling crime
On the fire-escape.

They tried so hard to make it creepy-
I am ashamed to be so sleepy.

by Ray Romine Wednesday, July 5, 1950

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Three Xmas 4-liners, Written At Request Of Vivian Adams

Now is the happy time of year
From east to west, from south to north,
When Angels gather far and near
To take our greetings back and forth.

Their candle burning, Angels three
Symbolize the old wish still
Going out to you from me:
“Peace on earth–to all, good Will”

Three Angels carol softly, lightly,
And the Christ child lives again;
May their Christmas candles brightly
Shine on in the hearts of men.

by Ray Romine Saturday, May 8, 1954

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Three Trees

An evergreen is freighted with
A wealth of gem-resplendent snow,
And sways its burden with the winds
That coldly come and fiercely go.

While here within, another tree
Is trimmed by children, laughing, gay,
And wears a rigid smile in death
To find the role a tree must play.

A tree that night the Christ was born
Cried out, “A cross? God–not of me!”
Then, softly–back in character-“
Yes, God, if that’s my destiny.”

by Ray Romine Monday, November 26, 1945

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Three Limericks

One day, when his innards felt lanky,
Twain wrote “A Connecticut Yankee”.
The wolf at the door
Lammed as never before,
But he covered his nose with his hanky!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Said a writer, one Samuel Clemens,
“No more of these hawin’s and hemmin’s:
It’s ‘Mark Twain’ I’ll sign
To the good stuff of mine–
My OWN name I’ll hang on the lemons!”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

In a lobby, while writing “Tom Sawyer”,
Twain avoided a fast-talking lawyer.
“Although I’ve been burned,”
He exclaimed, “I have learned
At least to beware of the foyer.”

by Ray Romine Tuesday, September 19, 1944

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Threat To Autumn

Now nervously across the sky is stretched
Eridanus, the river, east to west.
Aquarius spills the water he has fetched;
The Sea-goat’s tail is lashing; and unrest
Keynotes the heavens. All serenity
The constellations knew is gone. For see,
They skip to dodge the mighty voice of doom:
“Orion, mighty hunter, comes. Make room!”

by Ray Romine Wednesday, March 19, 1952

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Thought for Autumn

Do not, I ask, sigh wistfully,
“Another perfect summer gone.”
With every bold leaf shaking free
A perfect autumn carries on.

The yellow corn is stacks of gold;
The mists across the fields unfold,
Unveiling friendly blue and white
Warm skies that turn to frost at night.
The nuts high on the hickory tree
To grass-folk spell catastrophe,
But children in the heaped-up leaves
Laugh in the spell the season weaves.

So let the perfect summer be
To all things past, a paragon;
With every bold leaf shaking free
A perfect autumn carries on.

by Ray Romine Thursday, September 14, 1950