Category: Self-Analysis

I buy each new book that tells how
To win either friends or success,
Yet most of my gain, up to now,
Has been added books, more or less.
For all of them advocate Change,
Just as easy as buying a hat;
And somehow I can’t get the range:
I’m me, and that seems to be that!

by Ray Romine Thursday, October 18, 1951

The stuff I hate in other guys
Which, in myself, I rationalize.

by Ray Romine Monday, April 9, 1951

And here’s Romine–the sort of goon
Who chased butterflies on a honeymoon!

by Ray Romine Thursday, June 25, 1953

“What do you know?” This question
Gives me small cause for worry,
Since it’s one I can answer
And do it in a hurry!

by Ray Romine Tuesday, September 18, 1951

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

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

Noise makes my inner being quake–
Except, of course, the noise I make.

by Ray Romine Tuesday, April 10, 1951

Of course I’m not perfect: I don’t claim to be,
But my ego would soar, beyond doubt,
If you wouid admit what a nasty shock it
Must have been when you first found it out!

by Ray Romine Monday, February 11, 1952

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

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