Selections from Trella Romine's library at Terradise Nature Center
Ray Romine Poems
No song I sing, no breath I take,
But it belongs to Thee;
If I each day remember this,
I’ve learned humility.
If I be gifted any way,
And some acclaim be mine,
Help me, Father, to relay
The plaudits which are Thine.
Without the Breath of God in each,
All lifeless puppets, we;
If this thought dominate my life,
I’ve learned humility!
by Ray Romine Monday, October 4, 1943
There may be sorry angles
And a somewhat bitter side
To our domestic wrangles,
But who’d wed if single? I’d!
by Ray Romine Tuesday, August 21, 1951
Now is the time when all good men
Will find that pores ooze now and then.
While those possessed of education
Refer to this as perspiration,
Some, not erudite as yet,
Very often call it sweat.
But when it courses down my nose
I call it names I can’t disclose.
by Ray Romine Friday, April 7, 1950
Stop and think–you’ve reached the point
Where life seems not worth living–
That all the joy you’ll ever find
In this life lies in GIVING
by Ray Romine Tuesday, January 1, 1935
I met a chap the other day
But didn’t catch his name–
A little bantam rooster
I considered pretty tame
Until I read a letter
He’d written–man, what fumin’ !
I see you’re ‘way ahead of me:
His name, of course, was Truman.
by Ray Romine Saturday, August 25, 1951
The music drifted, sad but sweet,
To strangers passing in the street
Who marvelled, and in envy sighed.
“To play like that!” their egoes cried.
Inside the house, the music stopped,
And from the bench Young Genius hopped
To wander to the window, where
He envied those who passed him there.
by Ray Romine Monday, February 4, 1946
Have they ever figured what kiddies mean
Who won’t eat when the rest of the family is fed,
But who are pathetically hungry and lean
When, about eight, parents mention “Bed”?
by Ray Romine Sunday, March 26, 1950
I could broil me a steak; I could fix me some chops;
Omelettes are nourishing; salads are tops;
Baked ham I could go for; and how I like noodles,
Or anything humans eat, so there is oodles.
The deep-freeze is bulging with food for the thawing;
And the cupboard reveals things, if I keep clawing.
Sea-foods–there’s anchovies–(I am still looking)
Calories are everywhere: all needing cooking.
This almost-starvation is making me droop,
But my wife’s on vacation: I’ll open some soup.
by Ray Romine Monday, April 7, 1952
Oh give me a pencil and paper;
Surround me with books I adore;
Give me the mood and the leisure;
And a study with carpeted floor.
And then, can I WRITE? Don’t be funny:
I sit and I muse and I mope.
Then, at lunch the next day I compose me
A gem on an old envelope!
Oh give me i clean sheet of Bristol,
Some India ink and a brush;
Six kinds of pens. an eraser,
A desk chair upholstered with plush.
And then can I DRAW? Quite the oh no?
I chew and I rant, I go mad–
And later, I doodle a doozy
On a piece of a telephone pad.
So…
From perfect conditions please spare me;
I thrive on the hardships, perhaps–
For the richer and softer I find it,
The nearer my “art” to collapse!
9-11-44 Written at lunch,
on the back of en envelope
by Ray Romine Tuesday, September 12, 1944
Just when I should work like a beaver,
I have to go and get spring fever.
But since it hasn’t stopped my golfing,
A cure, I’m sure, is in the olfing.
by Ray Romine Saturday, January 31, 1953