A poplar tree is dropping its leaves–
Who is there to care?
A caterpillar among those leaves
Might think, if he thought at all–“Unfairl”
However black is our despair ,
Someplace, someone is sure to care.
by Ray Romine Monday, September 8, 1947
Category: Poems
Ray Romine Poems
September Song
Today looks the same as a day in July:
The heat-waves still rise toward the sun-tortured sky;
Continuing rains
Have the grass showing gains,
And the shade of the trees still invites passersby.
But the once-graceful willow is starting to sag;
And the jumps of the sleepy old grasshopper lag.
Although subtle and still,
You can hear, if you will,
The steps of the heat-weary summertime drag.
by Ray Romine Tuesday, September 9, 1947
Selfish
There is so little time for play
Upon this earth
That I must find another way
To corner mirth.
So deep inside me as I work
A candle gleams
And wavers. As emotions smirk,
I dream my dreams.
by Ray Romine Thursday, July 8, 1948
Self-Examination
I sometimes think I am without
Initiative. Or is there doubt?
by Ray Romine Wednesday, August 23, 1950
Self-analysis
There is quite a percentage of evil in me,
And the barest iota of good—
Reverse the proportions, you say, dear friend?
That’s sweet—but I knew you would!
by Ray Romine Saturday, March 30, 1946
Self Analysis
It was a few short years ago
That I was but a lad,
Full of indecision,
Strong for every fad;
More for play than working,
Headstrong, and erratic;
Not much for the serious,
I.Q. largely static;
A hole in every pocket–
My chief asset a smile;
Possessed of lots of promise-
But no aplomb, or style.
Yet can I say “Those Good Old Days?”
No. In all honesty,
This portrait of the little boy
Still fits the present me.
by Ray Romine Thursday, November 10, 1949
See If You Get The Thread Of This
The button factory where I
Spent most of every day
Was livened by a redhead who
Sewed just across the way.
I worked all day in stitches then,
Laughing gleeful-lee
Until the day I married her–
Now how she needles me!
by Ray Romine Tuesday, August 7, 1951
Sedentary
Songs and stories eulogize
More glamorous, enchanted lands.
A spot, perhaps, across the world
No one has seen–or understands.
Exotic, fair, where palm trees wave
Wild welcome to the blue lagoon;
Where scented night, a willing slave ,
Pays homage to the tropic moon.
The grasses always greener grow
Beyond our short horizon’s space;
But when spring’ s gentleness shall blow,
That is my time; home is my place.
by Ray Romine Wednesday, September 19, 1951
Secretaries Of State
Once you’ve espoused ’em
It’s hard to oust ’em!
by Ray Romine Thursday, July 26, 1951
Screamlined
Though taught to say “How do you do?”
“Hello there”; even “How are you?”‘
Today’s child, full of sway and swing,
Lets “Hi-yuh” cover everything.
by Ray Romine Tuesday, September 12, 1950