I do not swear or raise a fuss
If I completely miss a bus;
But Oh the people I could lynch
When I miss one half-an-inch?
by Ray Romine Monday, October 21, 1946
Category: Poems
Ray Romine Poems
Near Miss
I find, as I watch one they previewed like this:
“HERE IS THE MOVIE YOU CANNOT MISS!”
I certainly not only could’ve,
I should’ve.
by Ray Romine Monday, April 30, 1945
Near Miss
I contemplate becoming great,
But doubt if I could take it:
For one false stride, one’s classified
Near-great, who didn’t make it.
by Ray Romine Sunday, September 4, 1949
Nature-lover
And now across the autumn’s darkening sky
Comes Capricornus with his fish’s tail
In frantic flop because his watchful eye
Has lighted on Aquarius with his pail.
But this mild water-bearer means no harm
To Sea-goats. “Have no fear,” his look implores.
And that container dangling from his arm Is his excuse for getting out-of-doors.
by Ray Romine Tuesday, March 18, 1952
Nature’s Essence
There is an odor present in green things,
From lowly moss that creeps across the stone,
Soil building as it goes; in iris clone
Before it flowers; from the vine that rings
Old houses, old itself how many springs?
In rare spiced form, I get it with the moan
Of bleak wind through the evergreen, that lone
Step-child of winter to which summer clings.
Beneath the eye of science, this wild smell
May yield to analyzing, be the pet
Of major projects, start industries, quell
Worse odors, create millionaires, and yet
On country lanes it sends me, in its spell,
As close to Heaven as a man can get.
by Ray Romine Sunday, November 25, 1951
Nature’s Child
This perfect summer day was made for me,
I’m sure of it. That blue, blue spread
Was placed conveniently, that lazy I
Might write my dreams upon it, with a sea
Of cloud-chalk fantasy. This friendly tree
Above me has a worried mien, and I
Know somehow, without ever asking why,
That I am her responsibility.
by Ray Romine Saturday, January 13, 1951
Nature Label
Flake on flake, the falling white
Climbs the disappearing posts;
Sifting through the silent night
Drops the friendliest of ghosts.
The snow stops; then the lightly fanned
Drifts begin to shift and blow.
The wind provides the writing hand
That autographs the restless snow.
by Ray Romine Thursday, April 29, 1954
Naturally
I stretch, come dawm;
I loudly yawn.
I’m up; instead,
I yearn for bed.
I wail; I weep.
Do I need sleep?
It’s not that. See,
I’m being me.
by Ray Romine Monday, December 17, 1951
Naturalist
I have a good friend
Who is covered with shame
Should she meet with a bird
And not know its full name.
And a plant in a pasture,
To me but a weed,
Is a miracle to her
From seedling to seed.
A “worm” on a stem
She must capture to see,
Through its series of changes,
Which moth it will be.
So her whole zest in living
Beside such as I
Is a thousand times greater
From How, What and Why
I once found her amusing,
But not any more,
For she is the sane one,
And I am the bore.
by Ray Romine Monday, January 26, 1953
Natural Sequence
Who would have the realization
Of what Pride is truly like,
Note this sure-fire combination:
Little girl with brand-new bike .
And too, if you will recall,
This type of Pride preceedeth Fall!
by Ray Romine Friday, August 31, 1951