Author: Ray Romine

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Who’s Sweltering?

I claimed, through the cold season’s phases,
That heat was the thing which we lacked;
So now that it’s hotter than blazes,
I’ll suffer, but I won’t retract!

by Ray Romine Thursday, January 18, 1951

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Who’s Afraid?

Strong men take off down the hill
When the dentist bares his drill;
Some folks have a lively horror
Of getting locked behind a dorror;
Some exhibit Quaking forms
In the midst of thunder-storms;
At bridges spanning yawning chasms
Not a few go into spasms;
Others find themselves in Quakes
If you even mention snakes;
Some turn the color of the pea
If one says “Insecurity”;
Still others feel their heartbeats stopping
At the very thought of dropping.

Pick the phobia to fit
You; don’t be ashamed of it;
Sing its praises, for it’s clear
The brave but live in fear of fear.

by Ray Romine Thursday, August 2, 1951

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Who Rang That Dinner Bell?

So long, I swear, as I am able,
I’ll stick my feet beneath a table,
I’ll tuck the-napkin in my vest,
And look as eager as the rest,
As on the starting-gun we wait
With Nothing Much upon the plate.
I can’t my appetite appease,
SO PASS THE TOOTHPICKS, FLORENCE, PLEASE!

Of,all the hardships I think-tough,
I miss the most the chance to stuff.
How pleasant eating sounds to me–
The way, I mean, it USED to be–
But now to cook or not to cook
Depends upon the ration book.
We all must share in times like these,
SO PASS THE TOOTHPICKS, FLORENCE, PLEASE!

The cooking smells from our menage
Once laid an olfactory barrage
That caused each hungry passerby
To point his nose and sniff the sky.
And when the time it came to eat,
We’d sugar, coffee, spuds, and MEAT!
And though to eat today’s a tease,
PASS THE TOOTHPICKS, FLORENCE, PLEASE!

To eat your cake and have it too
Ia doubly hard these days to do;
Post-war plans to us sound good,
But mostly as concerns the food!
For he who eats and lives today
Will live to eat another day–
“Dessert” me not in times like these,
BUT PASS THE TOOTHPICKS, FLORENCE, PLEASE!

Imagination powerful is,
But helps no whit my starving phiz;
Still, if you THINK you’re filled, they say,
You’ve had enough to eat today.
For the average man, now, that may be–
I’m not the average man, you see.
And though we miss our meat and cheese,
YOU MAY PASS THE TOOTHPICKS, FLORENCE, PLEASE!

But–love we all a masquerade,
So have some pseudo-marmalade;
And try a slab of pie that’s not,
And water poured from coffee-pot.
We’re not so hungry, yet, of course
Who ask “Which is it, BEEF, or HORSE?”
At least this SHOULD DIGEST with ease.
~SO PASS THE TOOTHPICKS, FLORENCE, PLEASE!

So long, I swear, as I am fit,
I at the table shall me sit:
The eating may be mostly chew,
But fault, sweetheart, is not with you;
And sitting here is more than habit–
If food SHOULD come, we’re set to grab it!
SIJall I repeat my little wheeze?
JUST PASS THE TOOTHPICKS, FLORENCE, PLEASE!

Don’t bother to tell me, Dear Florence, I know–
I used the last toothpick a full week-ago!!

by Ray Romine Thursday, May 27, 1943

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Who Knows?

Thanks to the aid of chlorophyll,
My dog has not a smell that’s ill.
Sometimes I wonder, though, what he
Is thinking when he sniffs at me!

by Ray Romine Wednesday, September 24, 1952