Category: Philosophy

Down a wind-blown avenue
Where the dreams of childhood grew,
And grew, to huge proportions
From the little that we knew,
How our hearts then soared and sang!
How we let our cares go hang
And roared and whooped and rioted
And brought up with a bang
Sick against the street’s big trees,
With responsibilities,
Married, worried, harried, hurried,
Unprepared for grim unease.
Still we staggered, with our load,
Smiling at the spur and goad,
Nor looked too wholly envious
At those who flew the road.
Then, at last, a turn-off street,
Down a gala, rose-strewn street,
We laugh, and trip unburdened
Where old age and childhood meet…

by Ray Romine Sunday, March 12, 1950

I heard him blame his conscience,
But his conscience didn’t err:
He just failed to watch the roadsigns
That take a man Somewhere !

by Ray Romine Thursday, October 17, 1946

Tomorrow’s flowers, in the main,
Rely upon today’s dull rain.
So any life’s ungentler whiles
Germinate its future smiles.

by Ray Romine Sunday, April 30, 1950

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

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

Always I have heard the chant:
Go thou, Sluggard, to the Ant.

If I must look on insects, why
I’d rather be a Butterfly.

Butterflies dance in the sun ,
And dancing, have a lot of fun.

As I flutter, I shall pant:
“Who wants to be an Old Maid Ant?”

Perhaps I’ll come to realize
Fun’s no sin in other eyes;

That work as such and ties that bind
Are errors solely of mankind.

by Ray Romine Tuesday, October 19, 1948

A day we recess and carol
Of peace toward our fellow men.
(If we get ’em over a barrel,
We’ll slug ’em tomorrow again)

by Ray Romine Monday, December 18, 1950

This lesson from Nature is one that I prize:
A leaf is its gayest before it dies.

by Ray Romine Wednesday, October 23, 1946

Engrossed in what he thought or saw
That others never see,
He found the time he needed for
Inspiring you end me.

The shock is doubly harrowing
For all his friends to find
An intellect like his can pass
Like any other mind.

by Ray Romine Monday, October 14, 1946

A red and yellow flower
Every day
Bloomed its heart out,
And no one noticed
Passing that way.
But after it was dead,
“It was pretty,” one man said.

A lamppost stood
In a neighborhood,
And thought it rotten
To be forgotten.
But one night for a lark
Two boys threw stones.
“My, but it’s dark,”
I heard a woman remark.

So keep your light shining
A number of ways,
And someone will miss it
–One of these days.

by Ray Romine Tuesday, July 3, 1945