Selections from Trella Romine's library at Terradise Nature Center
Ray Romine Poems
Don’t call me “old”–when I can thrill
To the yellow of a daffodil.
Each unseen wind that faintly blows
Takes me along. A scarlet rose
Will stop me, breathless, on the path.
I nightly brave the first star’s wrath
By claiming it for mine. My dears,
Thoughts are not hampered by the years!
by Ray Romine Sunday, April 30, 1950
When blessings counted are so small
I find them barely viewable,
I’m thankful that my mortgages
And notes are all renewable.
My outlook may be negative,
But carried further yet,
I like words like No, Not, and None
Applied, at least, to debt.
by Ray Romine Friday, January 5, 1951
Reading books on How to Write
The Verse they all describe as Light,
I find advice
Not worth the price:
“Keep it alive
If you’d arrive–
Give it pep and vim and zoom;
Make it effervesce and bloom;
Make it dance, and make it tingle;
Give it verve, if you would jingle.”
Mine qualifies, Romine announces
(Anyway, it always bounces!)
by Ray Romine Friday, October 11, 1946
Our tolerance is of a kind
That stretches somewhat; for, we find,
It’s hard impartially to view
Our own as “neighbors’ children” too!
by Ray Romine Friday, January 18, 1946
I know, in fact, I’m positive
That there are better ways to live
Than my own way. I don’t deny it.
My life is lived to justify it.
by Ray Romine Monday, September 25, 1950
A sort of rabbit potentate
His precious fur did abdicate
Just so a furrier might create
A coat that cost one-sixty-eight
(Which covers taxes and the freight).
The furrier and the rabbit chap
Are credited for this trifling wrap–
I could, of course, stand by, agape;
But it’s time, I think, I yawed my yap:
I indulge the esoteric skill
Of the furrier, Jones (from Louisville);
Upon his head I praises spill–
I love him, yes, but hate his bill.
The furrier, then, I take in stride;
It’s with rabbit I’m dissatisfied.
Praise for him I can’t abide–
For THAT COAT CAME OUT OF FATHER’S HIDE!
by Ray Romine Friday, November 5, 1943
Now honesty may be the best
Of policies, but surer
Is this wee gem: I feel–ahem-A
whole lot SAFER, purer!
by Ray Romine Tuesday, January 9, 1951
They are, I declare on my soul,
Most grotesque, fantastic, and droll:
You know what I mean;
(If you don’t, where ‘ve you been?)
Controls we can’t seem to control!
by Ray Romine Friday, July 13, 1951
I live in a democracy :
It isn’t perfect, no, but–well–
It’s good enough, perhaps, for me.
Where crime and vice and infamy
Are smiled upon, and thrive pell-mell:
I live in a democracy.
The land of opportunity ,
Where all the onportunists swell:
“It’s good enough, perhaps, for me —
“A land where a minority
Can buy the rest of them, and sell–
I live in a democracy!”
The rich grow richer easily;
The poor are just allowed to dwell;
It ‘s good enough, perhaps, for me.
Why don’t I move?–Well, that would be
From frying-pan straight into Hell;
I live in a democracy:
It’s good enough, perhaps, for me….
by Ray Romine Thursday, January 25, 1945
Good looks he has, I grant you.
He can keep them, though.
I’d settle for his hobby–
i .e., making dough.
by Ray Romine Sunday, April 30, 1950