If you wonder why friends and neighbors don’t take
Your children to heart and adore ’em,
Put some of the fault
To not calling a halt,
And teaching a little decorum.
by Ray Romine Wednesday, September 10, 1947
Category: Poems
Ray Romine Poems
Dentist Dread
I’ve a choice; I can live upon curds,
On a diet purloined from a cow,
Or shudder to these six words:
“The Dentist will see you now.”
by Ray Romine Saturday, January 13, 1951
Dense Pretence
O Kiddies, take a lesson from
Precocious little Clarence:
To keep their love, don’t go above
The I .Q. of your pcrents.
by Ray Romine Monday, April 30, 1945
Demure Dynamo
Busy, brown, petite, pell-mell,
The wren conducts her hunger race;
No insecticide so well
Combines efficiency with grace…….
by Ray Romine Monday, December 19, 1949
Demand Performance
The Man Who Would Be King
Lets pomp and grandeur fool him,
Forgetting one small thing:
The Queen, who’d smile–and rule him.
by Ray Romine Wednesday, November 15, 1950
Delight Deferred
June brings us the bride, chic, petite, devastating,
With her doe-eyed so-wonderful look;
But what of her father, deplete, devastated,
With his tortured and worn pocketbook?
Why should she get publicity for her adjustment
When her dad spends 10 years readJusting his bustment?
by Ray Romine Monday, March 27, 1950
Delectable
Mary, I sometimes think your eyes
Are brown as the spice on pumpkin pies;
And your hair, unless my eyes have lied,
Is the shade of a round steak rightly fried.
Your cheeks are peaches, paprika-dashed;
Your tears pure claret, spaghetti-lashed.
And your lone, slim self reminds me , too,
Of a deer, gazelle, or maybe gnu.
As you can gather, from all this bleat,
Mary, you’re nice enough to eat!
So , keep your T-bones and your hamburger–
Serve me up a Firstenberger!
P. S. . .
The 64-buck questjon, if you are wary ,
Is, who wrote this , and sent it, Mary????
(written at her mother’s request)
by Ray Romine Tuesday, November 8, 1949
Delayed Action
Whodunnits rarely thrill and prod
One, it is my contention;
They rather tend to make me nod
In unrapt inattention.
Such tomes, though, when midnight has passed,
Will make my flesh grow creepy
If, when I lay one down at last,
I find that I’m not sleepy.
by Ray Romine Sunday, January 28, 1951
Delayed Action
I do love the guy who won’t answer my knock
Till I’m of his front porch, and away down the block.
by Ray Romine Monday, October 14, 1946
Delay Not Evident
In spite of’ dew;
Down draws, up hills,
The mail goes through–
At least, the bills.
by Ray Romine Tuesday, November 14, 1950