Selections from Trella Romine's library at Terradise Nature Center
Ray Romine Poems
See those bright red stockings hanging
On our fireplace? I count nine.
I’ll tell YOU, but don’t tell Santa–
Everyone of them is minel
I can’t wait for Christmas morning
To see how my trying went.
I am not a PIG exactly:
This is an ex-PER-i-MENTl
by Ray Romine Thursday, June 10, 1954
An arm-chair general is one
Who knows how it should have been done;
But when asked what he’d do
In the future, says, “Foo–
Do you think I’m a mind-reader, son?”
by Ray Romine Friday, December 1, 1950
My life can be a monument
If, dying, I attest:
“My life is lived, but not in vain,
For I have done my best.”
by Ray Romine Wednesday, August 25, 1943
Cornflakes, Pep, and Shredded Wheat-Do
they sound enticing?
I would trade them all for just
One small roll, with icing.
Krumbles, Wheaties, Grape-nut Flakes,
All-bran–all are flourishing:
I will swap them all for food
Even somewhat nourishing.
Breakfast foods are door-mats, or
Maybe something hairier;
I can get the same effect
Nibbling on a terrier.
MORAL:
Beware a food that must be shoved
And advertised, to make it loved!
by Ray Romine Tuesday, October 15, 1946
The thing had “come-hither”–
She purchased the daft hat;
Then gets in a dither
Because she is laughed at!
by Ray Romine Friday, May 4, 1945
Villainy beyond belief
Glistens from each blue-black curve;
And though we label him a thief,
It’s easy to admire his nerve.
For, if some man stole my domain
For him to waste and put to sack,
Sprout by sprout and grain by grain,
Admittedly I’d steal it back!
by Ray Romine Tuesday, February 2, 1954
I’m never sure which has the edge:
Shoveling snow or trimming hedge.
I don’t like soil (dirt?) to spade and turn,
Nor care for leaves to rake and burn,
And now you have the entire reason
I do not have a favorite season.
by Ray Romine Monday, June 12, 1950
Whoever spilled that repartee
Deserves a lot of credit;
It’s clever, and well it may be:
I’m the guy who said it .
by Ray Romine Saturday, June 24, 1950
Verses running through my head–
Suppose they will be ’til I’m dead.
Crazy, lousy, witless verse
Doesn’t fatten up my purse;
Couplets, meter, feet and rhyme–
Awful how they take my time.
Still my mind will turn to verse
Ain’t it awful? Goodnight nurse!
Even do it in my sleep,
‘S’nough to make the devil weep.
Wifey thinks it’s some disease
Working on me at its ease.
Maybe so, for all I know
But don’t you think we all should go
To feeling sorry for my wife?
She’s doomed to hear it ALL HER LIFE!
by Ray Romine Thursday, January 25, 1934
Caterpillars seemed to me
The hardest friends of all to prize
Until I found they soon will be
Painted moths and butterflies.
So, to caterpillars now,
I curtsy, smile, and hope I’m seen.
I’m puzzled, though, to which I bow:
Jointed gnome or fairy queen!
by Ray Romine Wednesday, January 9, 1952