Category: Poems

Ray Romine Poems

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Shoe-Shopping

Boxes litter chairs and floor;
Shoes are everywhere;
Desperation haunts the clerk;
Father tears his hair.

Everyone is all distraught;
Everything’s undone.
When mother finally gets a fit,
Father’s had him one.

by Ray Romine Friday, September 15, 1950

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Shelf-taught

Since I did not go to college,
All this universal knowledge
I exhibit is surprising, is it not?
I habitually maae fools
Of the teachers in grade schools,
And my high school math instructor went to pot.

Some rare students I have known
Have confessed in harried tone
They cannot conceive of such engaging brightness;
And professors I have laid
In their own pedantic shade
Cannot comprehend my higher eruditeness.

But, at 40, I’ll confess
What has brought me such success,
And which satisfied my intellectual hunger;
For I owe an awful debt–
One I haven’t paid, as yet–
To a “How To–” book I read when I was younger.

by Ray Romine Saturday, August 25, 1951

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Shear Error

Our barber is thoughtful–he gives our son
A little gift when the job is done;
A something to sort of erase the glum:
A balloon, a sucker, or chewing gum.
But why, the day our car was new,
Did he give him a chocolate bar to chew?

by Ray Romine Friday, May 5, 1950

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Shaving Talk

I always thought I was a good-natured guy
With all of my cuss-words quite saving;
But to shave off the whiskers and have someone talk
While you’re doing it calls for some raving.

For where is the man who can razor his pan
With his face muscles all misbehaving?
I’ve tried it and can’t, and that’s why I rant:
“Oh, don’t talk to me while I’m shaving.”

To prove what I say, try me any old way:
Scatter tacks out in front on my paving;
Put ink in my toothbrush or salt in my tea,
But don’t talk to me while I’m shaving!

by Ray Romine Saturday, September 8, 1934

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Shaving

Now as a man I always thought
I’d far the worst of things.
For I thought sure there was nothing worse
Than the mood that shaving brings.

Yes, I used to swear when I cut myself
And boil if the razor failed.
But after my aunt got hold of me
The horror of these things paled.

For she gave me a facial treatment then,
A-killing me inch by inch
And I’ll swear no more at shoving, for
I know NOW a man has a cinch!

–inspired by Helen Romine [sister-in-law]

by Ray Romine Friday, September 22, 1933