The percentage of Greats is so small
Out of the whole of us all
That it seems such a shame
To struggle for Fame
When we’re sure of Obscurity’s Hall.
by Ray Romine Thursday, November 16, 1950
Selections from Trella Romine's library at Terradise Nature Center
Ray Romine Poems
The percentage of Greats is so small
Out of the whole of us all
That it seems such a shame
To struggle for Fame
When we’re sure of Obscurity’s Hall.
by Ray Romine Thursday, November 16, 1950
One of the greatest disappointments on this outsize asteroid
is experienced upon getting your first gander at the
pan of someone named Gloria,
Which shows what being optimistic about your offspring when
they’re mere babies does foria.
Those so unfortunate as to be blessed with boy-babies have
discovered that to name one Hercules is to wind up
with a rather puny blighter;
But let them call him Wilberferce or Percival, and he’s
sure to grow cauliflower ears and be a prize-fighter.
So, future parents of America, take my excellent advice, and
you can turn this thing to your advantage
(If you know how to mantage.)
Simply name the kid the opposite of what you want it–even-
tually–to be;
Viz., the Chinese, wanting themselves a beautiful daughter,
tag the baby UG LEE.
If you desire a rich female child, instead of naming her
something ordinary like Alice or Carrie A. Nation,
Label her Starvation.
Or, if you want a boy ambitious in his callin’,
Why name him Joe–which is a guarantee he won’t be Stalin;
But if you want to be really cute,
And not handicap a child with a name that will influence
him at all, call him “Neutral” , which of course is
the full name for Newt.
Only the trouble here is newt is a sort of batrachian, if
not an amphibian,
Which would make it hard to predict what sort of life the
child might end up libian.
On the whole, then, I conclude it would be safer to ignore
the names, and just give the tot a number–
And let Nature take its course as to whether he or she
should be fat or thin, blighted or bright, an executive
or a plumber.
by Ray Romine Monday, August 16, 1948
Here is a point I’ve pondered on:
Whoever mows or feeds it,
No one appreciatee a lawn
As does the one who seeds it.
by Ray Romine Tuesday, October 19, 1948
These fragile faces peering up at me,
Pale in the dusk, and so sincerely shy,
Are blooms of May that herald, quietly,
The gems to flower in the midnight sky.
by Ray Romine Saturday, November 15, 1952
I drift today, and ponder upon
Impressions my senses bring .
For these are the days when even a lawn
Is alive with the scent of spring!
by Ray Romine Thursday, May 1, 1947
Every gnawing little worry,
Every trial, every care
May be, after all, an asset,
If it’s something we can share.
Every tear, with sadness streaming,
Is a blessing in disguise
If it, when the storm is over,
Brings the truth to loving eyes.
by Ray Romine Wednesday, August 1, 1945
Why is it those girls for whom longing is painful
Look disdainful,
While those I’d rather see go by me
Always eye me??
by Ray Romine Tuesday, April 24, 1945
The spring time turns its gentle face
On things undone around the place:
There’s puttying; the spouting’s clanging;
The screens need cleaning up and hanging;
With winter’s dirt the pool is brimming;
The grape vines and the trees need trimming;
The fence’s face requires a lifting;
Two evergreens I’d planned on shifting;
It’s early; maybe later on
I’ll find the time to roll the lawn;
The garden wall is all asunder;
Our winter rye needs spading under…
And mother, in a Voice of Doom,
Says, “Gander at that Living Room!”
Bears notwithstanding, hear me sing:
I’d rather hibernate in SPRING!
by Ray Romine Tuesday, March 25, 1952
Out on a Limb;
Down in the mouth;
You pine already for the south.
You’re an early bird
And silly too…
I tell you what: If I were you,
I bet next year,
Before I went,
I’d pay up just one more month’s rent!
by Ray Romine Saturday, March 12, 1949
An April day: the sun cracks through a rift
In stubborn clouds and lays a sudden hand
Upon the wind, which warms in turn the land
So every bud can feel the coming shift
To summer’s reign. And what a buoying lift,
In seeing April gain the upper hand,
To us, who tire of March and March’s brand
Of winter.–But quickly gone is April’s gift:
A smartly scudding cloud Just overran
The sun, and–br-r-r-~we have our March again!
by Ray Romine Wednesday, April 12, 1944