Selections from Trella Romine's library at Terradise Nature Center
Ray Romine Poems
Now summer to me is a wonderful thing,
While the winter I find hard to stand;
And fall isn’t bad–I could even stand spring
Were it not for the month now at hand.
For March is the month that gets under my hair,
For It’s summer–then winter and sneeze;
And I never could stand for the versatile guy
Who was trying to be the whole cheese.
by Ray Romine Thursday, March 23, 1933
Milady sticks from out her shoes
Both fore and aft, and does not choose
To veil her midriff; her chapeau
Her head projects at 10 below.
Tell me, tell me–are her clothes
(I doubt if even woman knows)
Designed to cover, or expose?
by Ray Romine Monday, February 12, 1945
I’d trade mine for the model’s job,
Enthroned upon her dais;
Though I’ll admit- -if pressed on it–
I don’t know what her pais.
No woolen shortage for this gal–
Her working clothes are simple:
Unlike the rest of us, she’s dressed
In sigh, or smile, or dimple.
And red points are no problem here
For she muet watch her diet,
Which can’ t be shunned: if she’s rotund,
The canvas–who would buy it?
The fuel shortage is the catch,
With that uncovered torso:
65 degrees, and me, I freeze
Without exposing moreso!
by Ray Romine Wednesday, February 14, 1945
Didn’t I hear some staff-member say, “How come he doesn’t
write a pome about US”?? I dood it. You may, for
all I care, call it “MANPOWER SHORTAGE”…
They speak of the Manpower Shortage as bad–
(Let me tell you about an experience I had):
Can y’imagine “Crusading”–Five girls to a man,
And myself the only man present–YOU CAN?
There was Dinny, and Margie, and Evaninne, too,
And Helen of Troy, and the Duchess (to you);
Five beauteous damsels all lush and full-blown:
And, when we had finished, I went home, ALONE!
Can it be that I’m slipping, or getting too old–
Or was I too timid, or maybe too bold?
There’s B.O. to consider, and pink toothbrush, too;
There’s no Best Friend who’ll tell me, so what’ll I do?
I’m six inches too tall, and too skinny, at that;
Or it may be my neckties, or even my hat;
It may be my flat feet; perhaps halitosis;
It could be I need a whole metamorphosis!
Of course, there is Florence and Sandy, but then,
What’s a trifle like that, with this shortage of Men?
My pride, it preceedeth some whale of a fall–
For, the worst thing, I’d no competition at all!
From the tall tales we hear, only One of those Five
Should have walked (with myself) from the Howards’ alive!
But, without any warning, the meeting was stag;
They’d scrammed out and left me there, holding the bag!
You guys in the Army, it’s tough to be bored,
But it’s better than being completely IGNORED!
For, when speaking of “Manpower Shortage” that be
They’re exempting the Boy Scouts, the Poets, and ME!!
June 23, 1943
(The day following the
“Crusading” above mentioned)
by Ray Romine Wednesday, June 23, 1943
This fallen leaf caught in my hand,
Far more than I can understand,
Insists I ask in accents loud
How I can hold myself too proud
To be a part of air and clod,
One with Nature; one with God.
(Usually I want to know
What kind of apples it helped grow;
And wonder, for my garden’s sake,
What sort of compost will it make?)
by Ray Romine Wednesday, October 17, 1951
I have read a Modern Novel;
I have seen a Modern Play;
I’ve obeserved the Modern Version
Of the Great American Way;
I have listened to the Broadcasts:
I have gazed at Modern Art;
I have sat on Modern Sofas
(And they didn’t touch my heart);
I have seen the latest Movie;
Know the very latest Gyp;
Heard the Bobby-soxers’ Lingo;
Seen the neatest Stripper Strip:
This will sound, I’m sure, Old Fashioned,
But I’ll say it, once begun:
We have gone too far from Nature
For our artificial fun,
For the simple wants have vanished,
And the simple pleasures, too;
And we must have Complication
In the things we say and do.
Why, the Poet’s “Book of Verses”
With his “Jug of Wine and Thou”
Are extinct as Dodo Feathers,
Yet we wonder–Holy Cow!–
What’s the cause of our Neuroses;–
What’s the matter with our minds?–
What brings on our discontentment; —
How to find the Tie that Binds?
Our solution to the puzzle
Is the nuts, as you’ll have guessed:
We just pay some Doc to tell us
That our nerve-cells need a rest!
by Ray Romine Tuesday, February 5, 1946
Those “Good Old Days” we long for
As we cry upon some shoulder
Is any other time than this
That’s one week old, or olderl
by Ray Romine Tuesday, March 30, 1954
If you must be nostalgic, proceed, but I fear,
For my part, that I never would miss one
Single small snowfall of yesteryear–
I’m too busy shovelling this one.
by Ray Romine Friday, September 19, 1952
Though modesty requires
Shushing it,
Ego desires
Discussing it.
Please don’t think I
Drop pearls all glistening-
I’m the guy
Who’s stuck with listening.
by Ray Romine Friday, August 11, 1950
“A penny for your thoughts”–what would be worth
Galileo’s, telescope turned to the moon,
First man to see night’s rival of the noon
So magnified! Did he exclaim in mirth
In mighty triumph? Did a sudden dearth
Of words completely claim him? Did the boon
Of seeing first the startling moonscape, soon
Sweep him, for several heartbeats, off the earth?
I see him there, his eager knowing gaze
Fixed on the craters and upon the seas;
He watched the terminator show the maze
Of mountains, or perhaps Cleomedes.
I think reaction took him in its spell
To where he sat back, sighed, and uttered “Well!”
by Ray Romine Monday, August 27, 1951