Category: Memory

I truly couldn’t place the gal
(Long, long time no see)
Which might have been embarrassing
Had she remembered me!

by Ray Romine Wednesday, March 12, 1952

It’s not so much that I forgot–
To my shortcomings I’m not blinded-.
On my escutcheon it’s no blot–
I just don’t like to be REMINDED.

by Ray Romine Sunday, January 14, 1951

Was it Mrs. Brown’s party?
(You called me a louse)
Or was I the smarty
Who painted your house?

Was it, by chance,
At the Country-club dance,
Or did we compare
Hog notes at the Fair?

One day at the ocean?
Were you waiting table?
Or–it’s Just a notion–
Could your name be Mable?

Did we trade places
That day at the races?
The drive-in? The flower-show?
A screened leafy bower? No?

NOTHING makes me feel any sillier
Than a face I can’t place that’s so downright familiar!

by Ray Romine Friday, September 7, 1951

I am afraid I can’t recall
Your name, but Baby, after all,
A face like yours–and who’s to blame?
(A rose, by any other name….)

by Ray Romine Tuesday, October 15, 1946

Man is the creature whom the Fates
Have truly misbegotten.
The things he should recall, but good,
Are very soon forgotten.

Yet, that which brings on ulcers,
Or which fractures or dismembers,
The silly goose, is he obtuse–
Doggedly remembers.

My personal goal, then, is some distance yet:
Knowing what to remember and when to forget.

by Ray Romine Tuesday, October 16, 1951

Here I sit, feeling completely rotten:
I remembered a birthday I should have forgotten.

by Ray Romine Wednesday, April 11, 1951

With a face so familiar, it does seem a shame
It’s a trait that can’t also apply to your name.

by Ray Romine Tuesday, February 9, 1954