Category: Self-Analysis

I was the type who shined his shoes,
Minded mother, sat in pews,
Didn’t swear or stay up late,
Carouse, or drink or dissipate
–And ended up too nice a guy
To tramp on toes, to shove, or pry.
So see me now (though life is restful)-
Unhappy, bored and unsuccessful!

by Ray Romine Saturday, December 30, 1950

I have a Little Conscience
That soars about with me
And keeps me in a state of flux
And much uncertainty.

I can’t have fun because of him–
He’s always there to say
“Huh- uh”, “No , no” , “I ‘m horrified”–
And “Oh you shouldn’t, Ray!”

0 Little Conscience, turn into
An ice-cream that melts;
Or take the air and hover
Over someone elts!

by Ray Romine Monday, September 8, 1947

I know, in fact, I’m positive
That there are better ways to live
Than my own way. I don’t deny it.
My life is lived to justify it.

by Ray Romine Monday, September 25, 1950

I hate to see trees standing stark
In just their naked winter bark–
And yet, I’m sure I don’t know why–
Undressed, they look as good as I!

by Ray Romine Wednesday, October 16, 1946

I am not fond of answering questions.
Though I’m no more reluctant than some
To give information, I feel no elation
Upon advertising I’m dumb.

by Ray Romine Thursday, February 22, 1951

Old hack, whose plots seem far less gripping,
I fear it’s I, not you, who’s slipping,
For, as through later years I plod,
I read far less before I nod.

by Ray Romine Tuesday, November 28, 1950

I’m quick enough when food is proffered,
But slower when the check is offered.
On pay day I am in the race,
But pay bills at a snail-like pace.
I hurry if you mention fun,
But not if work waits to be done.
I am a to-the-mailbox dancer,
But slow down when there’s mail to answer.
My speed at spending, while surprising,
Folds up at economizing.
Officials err. I’m swift to gloat,
But hesitate to go and vote.
I’m quick to analyze the news,
But lag accepting others’ views.
I grab, almost, at praise from you,
But pause when your own lauding’s due;
So give me, friend, no answer vapid
To this one: am I slow or rapid??

by Ray Romine Friday, October 12, 1951

The frost has laid it on until
Among the flowers doomed, accursed,
A brave bronze- robed chrysanthemum
Defies the winter’s frigid worst.

And from the flower I have learned,
When hope seems slowly dying,
If I can force my head erect,
Defy all fate, and go on trying.

by Ray Romine Wednesday, October 3, 1951

Some of us deign to change our names,
Or part the old in brand-new places,
Which does exactly what for frames,
Knobby knees, and same old faces?

by Ray Romine Friday, January 19, 1951

I am the noisy type of Wit ( ?) ;
You always know when I’m around.
And while I’m loud, you must admit
Basically, at least, I’m sound!

by Ray Romine Wednesday, February 24, 1954