Who’d like to see Taxes gaffed?
Who thinks Washington’s overstaffed?
Whose was the saga
Which just played Chicaga?
Who’s grinning and planning? Bob Taft!
by Ray Romine Friday, July 4, 1952
Category: Poems
Ray Romine Poems
Goodnight Again
Those friends who at 8 o’clock
Dropped in so breezily–
Why can’t they at 12 o’clock
Drop out as easily?
by Ray Romine Saturday, September 13, 1952
Goodbye
Today we said we’d go our ways.
I won the argument, of course,
But such “sweet sorrow” never pays
Except in showers of remorse.
My wild, persistent dream of you
Is with me still, though you are gone.
I trust heart’s tears can not show through
A smile pre-fixed and painted on.
And yet Hope rears its battered head,
Expecting someone’s pride to bend,
And spare us both the awful pain
Of words I cannot face: The End
by Ray Romine Wednesday, February 27, 1952
Good Policy
I’m insured from A to Izzard:
Heart, libido, brain and gizzard.
And though told by insurance men
I can relax, I answer When?
These boys who’re mostly after premiums
Give this insured delirium tremiums.
I’m nervous as a cat–and why?
They have me all prepared to die!
by Ray Romine Friday, December 14, 1951
Good Old Maturity
Once “That Younger Generation”,
Grandpa’s now esteemed and sage.
It’s a backward situation:
Rotten youth to ripe old age!
by Ray Romine Sunday, October 22, 1950
Good Old Days
I used to delight in rhymes about
Thanksgiving in my granddad’s day,
And how he used to ride ‘way out .
To “Granny’s”, in his one-hoss shay!
But since gas rationing’s come to us,
I think I’d a whole lot rather hear
A rhyme of auto, train, or bus–
The “Good Old,Days” of just last year!
by Ray Romine Wednesday, October 21, 1942
Good Old (hazardous) Days
“Oh take me back to the good old days”
Is a plea you often hear.
I too am thinking of that right now–
Thanksgivinh time is near.
I’d like to sit at a Pilgrim board
(If it’s like the say it was)
And watch the turkey disappear–
Hear the conversation buzz.
For he had lots to be thankful for,
Our Pilgrim Father thought.
And when he shucked his corn that fall
His winter’s food was bought.
I think I’ll reconsider, though,
When I remember that
He drank his milk unpasteurized–
With an arrow through his hat!
by Ray Romine Sunday, January 1, 1933
Golden Silence
The dogs do bark; the neighbors scream;
Locomotives wheeze and steam;
Shop whistles shriek and autos beep;
Small children shout when I’m asleep;
Door bells chime and phone bells shrill;
And carpenters are never still;
Another thing that bothers livers
Is steamboat captains cruising rivers.
Yet I don’t mind, above the clash,
The healthy clink of good hard cash;
Nor yet, amid the hustle-bustle,
Do I abhor green bills that rustle.
Money talks? While that may be,
It whispers soothingly to me.
by Ray Romine Wednesday, April 11, 1951
Golden Silence
When my love is far away,
Words I write will not convey
All the thoughts a willing tongue
Would, like pearls, have neatly strung.
Yet, when she is close, I stand
Like a schoolboy, hat in hand,
Dumb, without one pretty speech
Resembing those Great Lovers teach.
Then her eyes, without a word,
Tell me that her heart has heard!
by Ray Romine Tuesday, April 4, 1950
Gold-plated Month
The colors tell the season: summer’s end
Is heralded by yellow, and the trend
Away from green has hit the poplar trees
And locust leaves that ride each hint of breeze.
The chlorophyll in grass begins to slow;
A goldfinch adds his lemon to the shov;
And you can see, in any country mile,
Corn’s jewelled ears set in a golden pile.
The surest sign of summer gone to bed
Is yellow pumpkins stacked against a shed!
by Ray Romine Saturday, June 26, 1954