They taxed, they withheld, they deducted–
But not anymore for this duncel
He has earned, he has lost–but he knows now the cost
Of having an idea, once.
by Ray Romine Monday, February 12, 1951
Category: Poems
Ray Romine Poems
Ewe Bet!
Won’t the SPCA kick like thunder
When they go to plowing lambkins under?
by Ray Romine Monday, September 18, 1950
Eviction Notice
A fuller house I have not seen
Than that of the people called McLean:
It is so cluttered up with toys,
And laughing little girls and boys,
And kiddy-cars, and tattered books,
And luscious things that mother oooks,
And sat-in chairs, discarded jeans,
And very well-read magazines,
And paper dolls, and cocker puppies,
And–perhaps the last straw–guppies,
That in this household hate and gloom
Cannot reside: there isn’t room!
by Ray Romine Friday, September 26, 1947
Everyday Experience
I blearily crawl from my bed every morn
And greet the new day with a shudder;
I scratch, yawn, and ask myself why was I born?
One answer’ s as good as anudder.
“TONIGHT is the night I go early to bed”,
As I grope for that sock–have you seen it?
“One’s not at one’s best when one gets up half-dead,
TONIGHT I shall sleep!” (And I mean it)
As day, though, wears on, resolution wears off,
And, as the evening approaches,
At my firm declaration politely I scoff,
And my worse self my better reproaches.
Until, ,after dark, I’ve forgotten about
My wozzle-eyed self of the morning,
And use every excuse that’s at hand to stay out
Of the bed which I should be adorning.
So go away now, great tempting yawn–
I’ll greet you tomorrow again at dawn.
*****************
OR
So, leave me, Yawn; and to my sorrow
I’ll bid you “bah” first thing tomorrow.
by Ray Romine Saturday, May 8, 1943
Everybody Should Write At Least One Drinking Song
The Holidays are the time of year
When almost no one guzzles beer–
Not that we’re raised so far above it,
Or that we have ceased to love it;
Not that it isn’t in the larder:
We mostly, then, drink something harder.
So here’s to you; now, let’s make merry.
Pour me another Tom and Jerry.
WCTU, please note I’m sinking
To the old-world tune of glasses clinking.
by Ray Romine Wednesday, February 4, 1953
Eveolution of a Popular Guy
The stories I told were all pointless;
My Jokes were revolting and old;
I was fresh out of quotes
And my best anecdotes
Left most of my listeners cold.
Yet today to each shindig and party
I am asked as a matter of course;
But can I take the credit
For all this? You said it:
I really turned hearer perforce!
by Ray Romine Monday, November 20, 1950
Evening, Eighth Month
Truly there is majesty
Overhead tonight.
I catch my breath in wonder
At star-fed pulsing light.
How very fitting– “August”
For I confess that I
Think she was surely named for
Her starred, impressive sky.
by Ray Romine Tuesday, February 13, 1951
Evening At Home
The Television’s on the blink;
Junior’s in his bed;
The telephone is off the hook;
The cat and dog are fed.
Contentedly we settle dovm,
To run into a riot
Of knocks from neighbors, curious
About the peace and quiet!
by Ray Romine Friday, May 29, 1953
Even Then, I’d Like To!
When parties bore me slightly stiff,
I wander off alone;
Unless, of course, because and if
The party is my own.
by Ray Romine Wednesday, October 18, 1944
Even the Tales Are Growing
I walked among the garden rows
Last evening just at dusk,
Clinbing over melons
Both water-kind end musk;
I dodged the corn that hung its ears
High above my head,
And laughed to see the beets I’ve grown-
Like pumpkins, only red.
I trembled at the lettuce
From seed in thirty days,
And wondered at the zinnias
That set my world ablaze.
I paused to check the asters,
Big as dinner plates–
But the morning glories stopped me
(The kind called Pearly Gates)-
Saint Peter, in my mind ‘s eye, was
Regarding me with ire,
For fishing’s not the ONLY sport
That makes a man a liar!
by Ray Romine Sunday, March 26, 1950