Category: Poems

Ray Romine Poems

Posted on by

Meals And I

At breakfast, mother’s sure to say:
“Eat first, and then go out to play!”
And when at noon there’s such a BUNCH
Of fun, it’s hard to stop for lunch.
And, I suppose, I’ll grow up thinner
If I don’t go when called for dinner.
Fun’s fun, of course, but it is true
That EATING is important too!

by Ray Romine Sunday, August 10, 1952

Posted on by

Meal Spiel

When we dine out, the weak and fleeting
Spread, we’re sure, has indicated
That the dangers attached to overeating
Are very highly overrated.

by Ray Romine Friday, April 14, 1950

Posted on by

Meagre Essay On The Facts Of Life

I know for sure so many things,
And guess at many others:
Like boys are made of noise and springs,
And girls should mind their mothers.

The moon, of course, is not green cheese ;
The stars aren’t hanging jewels;
Ice is something that won’t freeze,
And horses aren’t mules.

I feel the auto’s here to stay;
TV’s a way of life;
I sense that lying doesn’t pay,
Especially to a wife.

I would pass out much more info–
I’m sure the starved world needs it–
Except for one more fact I know: —
Nobody ever reads it.

by Ray Romine Wednesday, October 3, 1951

Posted on by

Maybe It’s My Move

Neighbors are folks who take off for a week
When my work is hitting the ultimate peak;
They are the people who bi-monthly grieve me
By week-ending somewhere in order to leave me.
They’re off for the south at the first hint of snow,
And as soon as it warms up here, northward they go.
They’re the yokels who tell me, when they’re back from Siam,
And I rate a day off, how fortunate I am!

by Ray Romine Wednesday, May 14, 1952

Posted on by

Maybe It’s Because We Used To Be A Boy Scout?

Bring on your hamburger and weiners–
With onions or pickles or relish;
For we are outdoor-cookinng-leaners
To whom open-air eating is swellish.

Be sure that the coffee is blackish
(The water it’s made from was brackish);
Taste oranges, cookies and peaches
(And mosquitoes and beetles–and leaches).

The neighbor-man’s chickens will visit–
DO pass a tomato to Mabel–
The celery’s luecious: or is it?
We’re using the lap for a table.

The sissies have dining roome cozy:
Oh how they must envy our freedom.
(But I’d trade it all for the COMFORT
They have when they sit down to feed ’em).

by Ray Romine Monday, September 11, 1944