Selections from Trella Romine's library at Terradise Nature Center
Ray Romine Poems
Forged on the anvil of anguished despair,
Set on by sorrow, and courted by care,
Still did his verses cause sunshine to start
Leagues upon leagues from his own breaking heart.
Agony sees us come into this life;
Heroes are born out of travail and strife.
Who would ring bells in the heart as his goal
Draws from the source-stuff of his tortured soul.
by Ray Romine Saturday, November 24, 1945
The men who bring the mail and milk
Have quite abandoned their attacks;
But bill-collectors and their ilk
Sense houses come equipped with backs.
by Ray Romine Wednesday, September 20, 1950
It’s said that one’s enthusiasm
Dims for dollars once he has ’em.
by Ray Romine Monday, September 25, 1950
Now that her training approaches fruition,
Daughter is thinking about a position;
But with those she assumes (quite enough to undo one)
What does she need, I inquire, with a new one?
by Ray Romine Saturday, May 24, 1952
Parenthood would have taken me less aback
Had I, in college, gone out for track.
by Ray Romine Friday, March 21, 1952
You can hammer, you can fight,
And if you possess the greed,
You can maybe get an ulcer,
Or possibly succeed.
But the man who survives
Is the one who makes a joke
Of the burden, the struggle,
The bridle and the yoke.
by Ray Romine Wednesday, November 22, 1950
Somehow it fails to interest me.
But about that splinter in my knee–
by Ray Romine Saturday, May 5, 1951
0 Fate that tangles up my life,
How are your favors rationed?
I’ve tasted shares of your sour wares–
But where’s the candy stationed?
I’ve taken what you’ve handed out,
Manlike, but what of that?
Between the blows and subtle woes
Might not there be one pat?
0 Fate, I do not ask for much,
But to relieve the tedium
It almost seems between extremes
You could tum up a medium!
by Ray Romine Thursday, October 4, 1951
Something hasty
Might be tasty…
by Ray Romine Saturday, October 16, 1948
Yes, criticize her. Man to man,
I have to acquiesce with “Roger!
She does the very best she can.”
(So do pedestrians who dodge her.)
by Ray Romine Sunday, January 7, 1951