Selections from Trella Romine's library at Terradise Nature Center
Ray Romine Poems
I met a fellow, travel-stained,
With wild and windblown hair
Who said, I’m ready now to die,
For I’ve been everywhere.”
I seem a little dull, of course,
Who never cared to roam,
Beside the bold adventurer
Who hasn’t lived–at home.
by Ray Romine Thursday, September 30, 1948
The recent snow is evidenced
By one or two defiant drifts
That lie, beleaguered, by the hedge
To watch the warming sun in shifts.
They must not sleep-they’re out to spoil
By looks and leers (and anything
That hints of winter’s rougher side)
This January touch of spring!
by Ray Romine Monday, February 1, 1954
The recent snow is evidenced
By one or two defiant drifts
That lie, beleaguered, by the hedge
To watch the warming sun in shifts.
They must not sleep–they’re out to spoil
By looks and leers and anything
That hints of winter’s rougher side
This January hint of spring!
by Ray Romine Friday, January 4, 1952
The housewife, aproned, dust-cap girt,
Chases madly after dirt;
Her spouse, back bent in eager toil,
Terms the same stuff garden soil;
To sister, going on sixteen,
It’s something better left unseen;
While hardest hit is Junior; gosh ,
It’s what makes him have to wash!
by Ray Romine Thursday, June 28, 1951
Grandpa’s grinning from his chair
Since dancing’s changed from round to square.
I’ve tried it, and I’ve proved to me
I’m not the man he used to be!
by Ray Romine Monday, May 22, 1950
At these drinking bouts on New Year’s
I might get farther if
(You’ll pardon the expression)
Competition were less stiff.
by Ray Romine Tuesday, September 23, 1952
You’ll have to swing it without me, my friend–
I simply can’t manage, this time, to attend.
That PTA job I have takes time untold;
And my unfinished chores are a thing to behold.
I have painting to do, and a lawn that needs seeding;
I should attend lodge, and catch up on my reading.
There’s a mirror to hang; there’s the back fence to mend,
And ad infinitum without any end.
In fact, as most any observer deduces,
My life is as full as I am of excuses.
by Ray Romine Sunday, May 25, 1952
Ice is forming on the stoop;
Cold winds make my spirits droop;
Bare trees frown, and snow clouds glower;
Pardon my descending lower.
Yet, (flashing back to last July)
There is not a single fly;
Lawns are not in need of mowing;
Boats are not requiring rowing;
We can’t broil ourselves today;
Picnics are some months away.
Winter begs that we employ it–
I’ll relax and just enjoy it.
by Ray Romine Sunday, June 17, 1951
The whirl of the elements puts down
Uncounted miracles the town
Will never see except as dross–
Traffic hazard, business loss.
In stealth I watch drop on my glove
One six-sided symbol from above.
The fresh-fallen snowflake’s symmetry Speaks [Whispers?} to me from infinity.
by Ray Romine Sunday, December 17, 1950
All its dirt and clutter covered,
All the angles curved and curled,
Snoring underneath a blanket,
Smiles the now untroubled world.
by Ray Romine Sunday, November 26, 1950