My ego soars in mild surprise
At interest deep in other eyes.
True kindred soul, who can condone
The folly I’d thought mine alonel
by Ray Romine Tuesday, September 11, 1951
Category: Poems
Ray Romine Poems
Hoary Gangster
The sun sits high on his sky-blue throne
And fixes the snow with a baleful eye,
To pass his judgment in solemn tone:
“Too bad. It’s March. You will have to fry.”
But the snow is old in the ways of crime,
And he shows his teeth in a wicked smile.
December has always returned in time
To set up his empire in elegant style.
by Ray Romine Saturday, January 27, 1951
Hippopotamus
The hippo is the big boy who
Takes up the most room at the zoo.
His mouth is huge, and yet it’s right
To keep up with his appetite,
For those who feed this fellow say
He eats a haystack every day.
Still, he’s no pig, for he is neat–
He’d rather take a bath than eatJ
by Ray Romine Saturday, February 6, 1954
Hippopotamus
The Hippo is the fellow who
Fills up a whole tank at the zoo,
For, like the sleekest seal or otter,
He’s very much at home in water.
And if a fellow big as him
Can learn, so can I leamto swim!
by Ray Romine Thursday, September 17, 1953
Hint Might Help
We’ve some friends who’re wonders on current events;
They’ re lousy with talents and natural bents;
They are witty and funny- -a whole hippodrome;
They know everything, yes, except when to go home.
by Ray Romine Saturday, June 24, 1950
Highwayman
He has his mask across his eyes;
His chaps ride firmly on his thighs;
His horse is fed; his lasso’s coiled;
He twirls his six-gun, cleaned and oiled;
His sombrero rides just a-tilt–
Authentic, this lad, to the hilt!
He tugs the kerchief he has knotted,
And fiercely frowns; the loot is spotted!
Then off he rides, but not for far–
He’s raiding Mother’s cookie-jar.
by Ray Romine Monday, November 10, 1952
Highway Hint
“A little thought in passing”,
While trite, could be the dodge
To help the Sunday motorist
Get back to his garage.
by Ray Romine Tuesday, January 23, 1951
Highly Improbable
A lot of wild and stupid dreams,
To other men, are Great Men’s schemes–
But mine are wilder, far, than most:
I dream of selling to the POST!
It’s possible, at least. You see,
It has been done, but not by me!
by Ray Romine Tuesday, May 1, 1945
High Clear Note
Where is the bewildered chorus
The crickets used to sing?
Where is the eye of Arcturus high
That ushered in the spring?
And where is the throb in a robin’s throat
That boasted of his love?
These things live still for him who will
Give lethargy a shove.
But they are not spontaneous,
And pleasure not itself?
They but exist as a whirling mist
On a just-beyond-reach shelf?
Unless we take ourselves in hand
And shake the cobwebs from us,
We give old age another page
To let it overcome us.
by Ray Romine Friday, September 17, 1948
Hide the Adhesive
I hesitate to go tonight,
Although these friends of ours are right,
Who entertain with decor inescapable.
The issue that I see in doubt
Is just how long can I hold out
Against a hostess with a mouth so wholly tapeable?
by Ray Romine Sunday, December 31, 1950