Conversation – Terradise Books

You Can Top This

I’ll start the conversation,
Knowing in advance
The initial fabrication
Doesn’t stand a chance.

by Ray Romine Friday, June 22, 1951

When nothing is left to talk about,
And boredom has us on its tether,
That’s when I’m very apt to spout
Some bright remark about the weather.

When parties grovr a little dull,
Amid the dying conversation,
I give ’em something new to mull:
Our shortage of precipitation.

And when I meet a friend downtown
Whose moniker’s beyond recalling,
I do not hem and haw and frown–
The weather has been too appalling.

Although not what you’d term a sport–
My outlook could be called myopic–
I’m seldom caught entirely short:
I’ll never be without a topic!

by Ray Romine Saturday, September 19, 1953

There’s a good side to whom- or whatever
We regard with a multiple hate;
The redeeming feature of Gossip:
The people it scared who go straight.

by Ray Romine Thursday, July 13, 1950

I ponder on this statement’s source,
And why it is persisting:
“I don’t want to insist, of course, “
All the while insisting.

by Ray Romine Wednesday, June 14, 1950

My ideas spring from the air, I claim,
And I want everybody to know it.
Which could easily be, for I think you’ll agree
They show it …..

by Ray Romine Wednesday, February 6, 1952

To have the Last Word, pointed, rare,
Is something I’m ignoring,
Since placing one word anywhere
Would send my average soaring.

by Ray Romine Thursday, August 31, 1950

Religion, topics of the day,
The war, good food, the price of hay,
The weather:–talk of what you may.
(You will anyway)

by Ray Romine Saturday, February 10, 1945

I watched a white cloud in a pool;
Then one tossed pebble changed its role;
So just a word can be the tool
That wrecks a life –or lifts a soul.

by Ray Romine Saturday, July 27, 1946

Ask “Will you do me a favor?”
And I class you with the worst.
This preamble is too much gamble:
Please state the favor first.

by Ray Romine Thursday, November 8, 1951

With fiery words, we praise and toast him;
And, when the dinner’s over, roast him.

by Ray Romine Thursday, September 21, 1950