Selections from Trella Romine's library at Terradise Nature Center
Ray Romine Poems
The friends that fill me with annoyance
Are those possessed of over-buoyance;
At times they fairly make me yearn
For those who’re almost taciturn.
There must be, somewhere in between ’em
Guys like myself, and I’ve not seen ’em.
by Ray Romine Sunday, June 18, 1950
It may be filled with pathos, or
It may be full of pash–
But the Post’ll only buy it if
It’s signed by Ogden Nash!
by Ray Romine Thursday, April 8, 1943
No CAN for the kidney bean,
No CAN for the corn;
No CAN for the apple lush,
From loaded tree shorn.
ONE CARN left in the whole darn plant!
I know vhet I’ll do–
Tie THAT to my own coat-tail,
And get a WAR JOB TOO!
by Ray Romine Saturday, October 10, 1942
August brings sun and flies and heat,
Picnics–awful things to eat;
Chiggers, skeeters, all the spawn
From Hell ‘s own tract infest the lawn.
The grass turns brown; the garbage smells:
The garden’s dead; the ice bill swells.
The water’s warm as chili soup–
My collars wilt, my neckties droop.
Cold drinks, sodas, ice cream cones
Still don’t chill my torrid bones.
The butterfly, the bug, the bee
Are giving up–what chance have we?
We prayed for summer time to come–
But it ain’t so hot, SO HOT, by guml
by Ray Romine Saturday, August 31, 1935
I have a notion I’m growing old:
I doze while reading, and mind the cold;
I’d rather not go–I prefer to sit;
And I’ve no will left, for I just submit.
A shiny car–even clothes all new
Convey no thrill like my slippers do.
My middle’s bulging, my suits advise;
I read of sports for my exercise.
My curiosity’s even dead:
New folks next door, and–what’s that you said?
A well-built lovely with hair spun-gold?
Hand me my glasses–I’m not so old!
by Ray Romine Sunday, January 20, 1946
Oh she wes a pretty maiden,
And I fell for her right there,
With her teeth so white and pearly.
Sweet brown eyes and curly hair.
So I married that young maiden,
Now my grief is hard to bear:
Little dreamed I that she’d false teeth
One glass eye and phony hair.
by Ray Romine Thursday, January 25, 1934
My description of summer
When it’s 90 above,
I fear must suffer
Along without “love”.
by Ray Romine Monday, December 11, 1950
Behold this gem of puppyhood
Whose thumping wild appendage tries
To match exactly, if it could,
Enthusiastic shining eyes.
One look at him will tell you that
His entire being is agog.
He’ll love you too, for one small pat
But please don’t call him “Just a Dog!”
by Ray Romine Monday, November 5, 1951
Silently the juke-box sits,
A monstrous, hulking thing of might;
Colored lights, and chrome, and ritz–
Atom bomb in its owm right–
Packaged up and triggered, much
As fiercer bombs, with grimmer loads–
It takes the final, awful touch
Of nickel–and the thing EXPLODES!
by Ray Romine Thursday, August 16, 1951
If things are the way they appear,
Mr. Truman may have a few qualms;
Especially if he should turn seer
And read a few Florida palms.
by Ray Romine Friday, May 5, 1950