Category: Sleep

It’s 3 p.m. I yawn. Explain
Why I can’t now recall the pain,
Frustration,worry, jitters, fright
That keep me wide awake at night.

by Ray Romine Wednesday, April 2, 1952

If there exists one instrument
I wish had died a-borning,
It’s that machine infernal
That rouses me each morning.

There is one thing much worse, of course,
And this can really make me
Fume; and that’s when my alarm
Stops–and fails to wake me!

by Ray Romine Wednesday, November 28, 1951

When I’m sleeping, riots, thunder,
Earthquakes, soothe me, –so I wonder
If this is the waking me
(Pinching’s not the way to see??)

by Ray Romine Friday, April 28, 1950

I wish that I could set aright
My sleeping and my playtime,
And have my day-dreams in the night;
Insomnia, in daytime.

But even though it does indict
Me, looks like I will stay
The sort who stalks the floor at night,
And sleep-walks every day!

by Ray Romine Monday, February 4, 1952

Though they tell us now that sleeping
Is so healthy–in the nude,
I for one refuse to do it,
And it’s not that I’m a prude.

I have never worn pajamas,
But today I’m bound to try ’em
Since things have reached the pretty pass
Where I can’t beg or buy ’em!

by Ray Romine Thursday, October 3, 1946

I stretch all over, sleepily,
And yawn. For heaven’s sake!
Last night’s problem: how to sleep;
Today’s: how stay awake?

It’s not my fault I wasn’t born
A cat or wide-eyed owl,
So I could have the day for sleep
And every night to howl.

Which wouldn’t help my private curse–
Consistent me, I’d just reverse!

by Ray Romine Saturday, August 4, 1951

I stretch, come dawm;
I loudly yawn.
I’m up; instead,
I yearn for bed.
I wail; I weep.
Do I need sleep?
It’s not that. See,
I’m being me.

by Ray Romine Monday, December 17, 1951

Reading in bed
Should relax. Instead,
It poses knotty problems right off.
To me, the wow
Is exactly how
When half asleep, to turn the light off.

Still, one admits the question’s rated
One of the most illuminated.

by Ray Romine Wednesday, August 22, 1951

Our supper is over and put to rout:
The delightful(?) odor of sauer-kraut
Is wafting out of the window there;
Give me my book and my easy chair.

With pipe all lighted and going STRONG,
My slippers a-foot (Where good slippers belong)
I grab that book that’s so fascinatin’–
I nod, and sleep–how aggravatin’!

I prod myself to attention then,
And doze, and pass right out again.
“See here, old Thing, this’ll never do:
You’re sleepy–BED is the place for you.”

I climb me into my striped pajamas,
With various yawnings and stutt’ring stammers,
And wisely, say, as I scratch my head,
“A fellow SO sleepy belongs in bed.”

I open the window and close my eyes…
A half hour later, I realize
That sleepy feeling just didn’t last–
I’m gettin’ wide-awaker fast.

Tell me, Fates–I am lost in wonder–
Break down, and give out–why in thunder,
With a spring-filled mattress and comfy bed,
I’d rather sleep in a CHAIR, INSTEAD?

by Ray Romine Saturday, April 24, 1943

Of the problems puzzling middle-age,
The toughest of the bunch
Is how to keep one’s consciousness
Following one’s lunch.
(If you know what’ll help, don’t meddle
By suggesting maybe bed’ll)

by Ray Romine Thursday, August 23, 1951