Category: Poems

Ray Romine Poems

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My Stars

Since I cannot woo sleep. I sit outside
My deck chair in the center of the lawn,
And revel in the glory houses hide:
The heavens we ignore from dusk to dawn.
There’s Vega’s bright blue stare; the dragon’s eyes
Return it wink for wink, while Hercules
Above them both stands guarding all the skies,
And Cygnus wings his southward way with ease
To Join the eagle. Now the Scorpion’s heart,
Antares, flashes redly farther south– ,
Until Bootee plays his lusty part,
Escorting me in fancy past the mouth
Of Serpens to a dr eam-da te I must keep–
And grateful for the while I couldn’t sleep!

by Ray Romine Friday, June 16, 1944

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My Share

“Some future boy will learn in school,”
(The Great Man said) “This stirring rhyme.
What if he hates me for a fool?–
My fame shall last for all of time.”

“Though he have trouble finding me,”
Replied the poet without a name,
“I’ll be read the way I want to be–
I’ll have his love: you keep your fame.”

by Ray Romine Wednesday, October 18, 1944

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My Pet

My Spot does tricks; see him shake hands,
Sit up, and bark at my commands,
Roll over–oh, he’s very quick;
But if I teach him one more trick,
The folks who watch my dog will see
He’s very near as smart as me!

by Ray Romine Tuesday, January 8, 1952

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My Moustache

Since first my wife could notice it,
She took it bravely, looking pained;
But if I’m pushed, I will admit
Our kisses are a little strainedl

by Ray Romine Sunday, March 28, 1954

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My Hand: Shake It Gently

I seek out friends who welcome me
With greeting hale and hearty;
But he who claps me on the back
Can find some other party.

It’s not that such things are beneath me–
I just don’t like to swallow teeth. See?

by Ray Romine Saturday, March 12, 1949

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My Duck

Quack has a big strong yellow beak;
His downy coat is white and sleek;
He gulps the things he finds to eat;
He wears snowshoes upon his feet;
His language. is a lot of twaddle–
But it’s so cute to see him waddle!

by Ray Romine Sunday, March 29, 1953

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My Clock

I like the steady tick tick-tock
Of my own cheerful little clock;
It wakes me when the day dawns bright;
And sends me off to bed at night.
Its face is kind; it understands,
But does its “telling” with its hands,
And though it runs, it gets no place.
Clocks are a most peculiar race!

by Ray Romine Saturday, January 5, 1952

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My Cares Rest Lightly

Reading in bed
Should relax. Instead,
It poses knotty problems right off.
To me, the wow
Is exactly how
When half asleep, to turn the light off.

Still, one admits the question’s rated
One of the most illuminated.

by Ray Romine Wednesday, August 22, 1951