Selections from Trella Romine's library at Terradise Nature Center
Ray Romine Poems
Let who will, across the town,
With gossip’s ugly nasty frown
Try to cut my ego down;
My head is high.
Man has a heritage of pride,
A soaring flame that won’t be tied,
Reminding him from deep inside:
“Keep that head high!”
So it is that trouble can
Make me glad I am a man!
by Ray Romine Sunday, October 7, 1951
Thus proving, as we dine or sup,
What was never down, can still go up!
by Ray Romine Saturday, July 29, 1950
Junior is a whistler,
And daughter loves to sing;
Mother plays piano
Like anything.
The parakeet’s a talker;
The telephone rings;
The rattling of windows
Climaxes things.
That silence is golden
Is a bit too pat–
It’s strictly unobtainable
Here, and that’s that!
by Ray Romine Thursday, April 2, 1953
Dear old summer, here you are;
You look better from afar.
While you’re my model and my hero
In the winter when it’s zero,
Now I beg you, from my spit,
COULD you turn it down a bit?
by Ray Romine Monday, April 6, 1953
One big chair is the engine,
And the davenport, the cars.
So all aboard for Hackensack,
For Jupiter or Mars!
We’re rolling now, like sixty–
Oops! We almost hit a steer.
Kitty is the fireman, and
Guess who’s the engineer!
by Ray Romine Saturday, June 20, 1953
A sharp-drawn breath, a partial sigh,
Escape me at the midnight sky
With splendor stretched, But even so,
I cannot feel inferior , No;
We are one grand Infinity–
I need the stars–the stars need me.
They give me light, and inspiration-
I write them up for publication!
by Ray Romine Sunday, March 12, 1950
I wonder, when I see Fate juggle
My best efforts, why I struggle.
My plans,which taking pains has blended,
Don’t turn out as I intended.
A word, the smallest slip uncharted
Can spoil what hard endeavor started.
Destroying fortune, fame or rep
Requires no more than one false step.
The most successful day can sour
In its final quarter hour.
Yet come fire, flood or income tax,
He must fight on who can’t relax.
by Ray Romine Saturday, November 10, 1951
She oversees our home affairs
From basement floor to attic stairs;
She does the shopping, tends our ills;
Minds the budget, pays the bills;
She works along rebellion’s border ,
Creating system from disorder;
She cooks for, clothes, and picks up after
All of us. Her ringing laughter
Picks us up again, and makes
Light of most of our mistakes.
Hers the tender guiding hands;
Hers the heart that understands.
From basement stairs to attic floor,
She’s manager and staff–and more;
So where’s the man who’d be depriving
Such a wife of back-seat driving?
by Ray Romine Monday, October 2, 1950
“If you ask me-” does it make sense,
This time-worn phrase we all descend to–
Without the slightest evidence
That you intend to?
by Ray Romine Sunday, December 7, 1952
I blush the brightest scarlet hue
At all the times I’ve said it:
“If things go badly, we’ll blame you;
If well, I’ll take the credit.”
But this brings me the greatest pain:
In future, I’ll say it again!
by Ray Romine Saturday, June 30, 1951