Old friends, like old shoes, fit us best;
And so, when I’m inclined to rest,
I don old shoes while old friends smile,
And we relax old-fashioned style.
by Ray Romine Saturday, June 16, 1951
Category: Poems
Ray Romine Poems
Returning
To “Love My Neighbor”
Ought to be
The simplest task
Of all for me
Because it comes back,
You can see,
For when I love folks,
They love me.
by Ray Romine Wednesday, March 31, 1954
Retrospect Revisited
In retrospect, I see mistakes
Encompassed by wrong things I’ve said,
And those bad jokes! Excuse me, folks–
I think I’d rather look ahead.
by Ray Romine Saturday, January 27, 1951
Retreat
The shocking red-bud blossoms
That dot the spring-rinsed hills
Are the tail-lights of winter,
Fleeing daffodils.
by Ray Romine Wednesday, April 18, 1951
Retreat
Safely here, within four walls
Of livine green, I have the sun
Upon a tree, and when it palls ,
The shadows quiet leaves have spun.
A butterfly heeds some alarm
And skips to settle on my arm;
A trusting wren is here to greet
Me, breakfasting beneath my feet.
Riches are not of one kind.
Each must choose. So, like the bee,
Within my walls of green I find
A peace that great men envy me!
by Ray Romine Sunday, March 26, 1950
Results Inconclusive
A theory I’ve tested
Is, thoroughly rested,
With good food and sleep underscored,
Does the type called go-getter
Feel any better?
He might, but who wants to die bored?
by Ray Romine Wednesday, December 5, 1951
Result Not Noticeable
“You can succeed if you but try”
Always tickles me–
An adage I have been disproving
Since the age of three!
by Ray Romine Wednesday, December 13, 1950
Restless Beast
In summer, when the sun is hot,
I crave a season when it’s not;
Yet winter hears me cry in rhyme;
“Give me summer every time!”
Spring no longer oan appease me,
And autumn is hard put to please me.
I typify man’s discontent–
Longing for what was that went!
by Ray Romine Friday, December 29, 1950
Rest
(Written during 1940 election campaign, when Hate, Bitterness and Nastiness were rife, and the mail ^%$^% heavy)
To rest: there is no rest
Upon this earth
While man supreme shall roam at will,
Of animals the basest.
No rest while unrequited good
And virtue of a paltry few
Be laughed to scorn
By at-any-cost-ambitious others.
What rest when man pretends
To love a god
High-born and holy, but instead
Doth kneel at throne
Of rodomontade and avarice,
All the forms of selfishness
And sophistry unending?
No rest then, here, for us,
The undead,
Pitiful remnant of the millions
Who have escaped long since.
No rest ti l death shall loose the fetters
Thct clutch us to this jealous life
Like some fierce vulture, frantic
Lest helpless prey should flee.
To die, and there to lie
Untroubled:
Undisturbed by passions petty,
Trifling hates, and Greed,
That monster, who with breath unutterable
Doth sink fangs into heart of man,
Who, too, becomes unspeakable,
Fit company for beasts.
To die: and thus escape
The creature
Taught we are to love as brother,
Saint or snake be he.
0 Life!… Thou art but lengthy story
Whose sordid pages grim and gory
With villain-filled carousal
Must surely author shame!
To die: we fear not death.
His picture,
Bony, bloody, grim of visage,
Conjured up by man–
A part of his campaign to frighten
Into living on our children
When death would comfort offer–
Dost only solace me.
by Ray Romine Friday, November 15, 1940
Responsibility
Had I my choice of all that this world holds
Of good or bad, or what lies in between
To call my own, or be–what would it mean?
How choose between the stuff the rich man folds
Or knowledge that the garret’s suffering molds?
Diverging forks would rear their heads unseen
Till then. Which, playboy only fit to preen-
Or scientist who battles plagues and colds?
The skill the clever craftsman’ s genius owns,
Or know the peace that comes to lesser minds?
The one so “blessed”, then, holds his head and groans,
To see the labyrinth disclosed as time unwinds .
I’ll fight the fight , 0 Fate, as you decree
It; choosing were the greater task for me.
by Ray Romine Thursday, November 9, 1950