Category: Marriage

Upon the eve of that Big Day
Our game with State is fought,
This little sniffle that I have
Is hardly worth a thought.

But should my wife say “Shopping”,
I admit I am the kind
Who takes him and his outsize cold
To bed, if you dode bind.

by Ray Romine Friday, September 25, 1953

Remember that spot by the garden seat,
And the flagstone path that led our feet
There, while the flowers, scented musk,
Whitely smiled in the gathered dusk?
Recall how we wondered what they played
When the crickets filed their serenade?
But most vivid of all to me of then
Is my sweetest impression of you, for when
Your sweetheart made an unholy mess
Of his nervous proposal, you answered Yes!

by Ray Romine Tuesday, April 4, 1950

I know just what the wife will say
(I’m whom She’ll be berating);
The Piper, true, demands his pay,
But does he need debating?

by Ray Romine Tuesday, January 23, 1951

Today we said we’d go our ways.
I won the argument, of course,
But such “sweet sorrow” never pays
Except in showers of remorse.

My wild, persistent dream of you
Is with me still, though you are gone.
I trust heart’s tears can not show through
A smile pre-fixed and painted on.

And yet Hope rears its battered head,
Expecting someone’s pride to bend,
And spare us both the awful pain
Of words I cannot face: The End

by Ray Romine Wednesday, February 27, 1952

There may be sorry angles
And a somewhat bitter side
To our domestic wrangles,
But who’d wed if single? I’d!

by Ray Romine Tuesday, August 21, 1951

A husband finds this has some catches.
Uh, he may speak, but it’s occurred
To him that, in domestic matches,
He isn’t promised he’ll be heard

by Ray Romine Wednesday, March 26, 1952

Here is the reason, astute, profound,
Why I’m reluctant to mingle:
While marriage will take you home, safe and sound,
Who wants a four-bagger? I’ll single.

by Ray Romine Friday, July 4, 1952

My husband at a party
Is more or less a smarty;
He’s witty, and possesses quite an air.
He is first with every hoax;
He knows all the latest jokes;
He’s outstanding, full of zoom, and debonair.

But his pep has seemed to roam
When he spends the night at home;
He’s a run-down sort of mouse, a haggard creep.
All his party manner’s spent-
And I wonder where it went?
I’d lecture him, but there–he’s fast asleep!

So wives sigh in sad conclusion-
(And without intent to heckle)
Any husband is confusion–
Mr. Hyde and Dr. Jeckyll.

by Ray Romine Thursday, December 28, 1950

The Man Who Would Be King
Lets pomp and grandeur fool him,
Forgetting one small thing:
The Queen, who’d smile–and rule him.

by Ray Romine Wednesday, November 15, 1950

June brings us the bride, chic, petite, devastating,
With her doe-eyed so-wonderful look;
But what of her father, deplete, devastated,
With his tortured and worn pocketbook?

Why should she get publicity for her adjustment
When her dad spends 10 years readJusting his bustment?

by Ray Romine Monday, March 27, 1950