Category: Observations

I’ve made this firm Resolve, my dear:
No Resolutions at all this year!

by Ray Romine Monday, December 18, 1950

You can’t have everything,
That is true;
But SOMEBODY has his,
And mine too!

by Ray Romine Thursday, April 2, 1953

Promises, maybe, are made to be broken;
Truth to be twisted, and lies to be spoken;
But someone forever is giving the lie
To my own ingenious alibi.

by Ray Romine Wednesday, March 21, 1951

My little world is ringed about
With such restrictions and taboos
That things which I must do without
I automatic’lly refuse.
This I can stand; but how excessive
To wonder why I’m not aggressive!

by Ray Romine Tuesday, February 20, 1951

There are so few,
These days, of you,
I’d suggest a Museum
Where people could seum….

by Ray Romine Wednesday, September 10, 1947

A man is sized up by the way
He tips, I understand.
In other words, then, one might say,
A close chap tips his hand .

by Ray Romine Monday, April 23, 1951

Alarm clocks fall so low with me
I scarce can bear to wind one;
But–(Fate is mocking childishly)–
I wish that I could find one!

by Ray Romine Thursday, January 18, 1945

While clock-watchers cause misgivings
To those who pay them, I can see
Jewellers making splendfd livings
By clock-watching constantly.

by Ray Romine Tuesday, August 25, 1953

Then, half-track treads–
Now, trundle-beds;
From bomber-parts, to shirting;
Then, Sherman gears–
Now, lace brassieres ,
The world is reconverting!

Then, lethal rays–
Now, mayonnaise;
From tommyguns to sweepers;
Then, generals’ stars–
Now, brand-new cars
To open John Q’s peepers.

But I don’t know:
The radio
Stars have me disconcerted;
Will gags they chew
Be henceforth new
Or old ones reconverted??

by Ray Romine Monday, September 3, 1945

The Lovelorn Editor has woe;
The banker, it is said, lacks dough;
The printer hasn’t time to read;
The real estate man rents: no deed;
The florist’s wife receives no flowers;
The jeweller loses count of hours;
The MD daily feels no better;
The postman’s name adorns no letter;
The butcher is a vegetarian;
The Lit. Professor, one vulgarian.
However low or high one’s station,
One’s failing’s in one’s occupation,
And so I wonder, in some fright:
Do plumber’s faucets drip all night??

by Ray Romine Sunday, May 21, 1950