Category: Travel

Poles and fences pass us by,
But all of them that I can see are
Rushing backward. Nothing else
Is going the direction we are.
But when we stop, with screech and fuss,
The world catches up with usl

by Ray Romine Monday, September 22, 1952

I met a fellow, travel-stained,
With wild and windblown hair
Who said, I’m ready now to die,
For I’ve been everywhere.”

I seem a little dull, of course,
Who never cared to roam,
Beside the bold adventurer
Who hasn’t lived–at home.

by Ray Romine Thursday, September 30, 1948

Songs and stories eulogize
More glamorous, enchanted lands.
A spot, perhaps, across the world
No one has seen–or understands.

Exotic, fair, where palm trees wave
Wild welcome to the blue lagoon;
Where scented night, a willing slave ,
Pays homage to the tropic moon.

The grasses always greener grow
Beyond our short horizon’s space;
But when spring’ s gentleness shall blow,
That is my time; home is my place.

by Ray Romine Wednesday, September 19, 1951

Though you embark
For your New Yark,
Sing us a saga
Of Old Chicaga.
It isn’t a pritty,
Exactly, city;
It’s no East Indie,
But it is windy.
It’s full of pranksters,
Like Molls end Gangsters,
And things in a Museum
(I’d like to seeum)…
We’ll visit Shedd’s Aquarium
And Adler’s Planetarium;
We ‘ll see Queens end Consuls ,
We’ll sunburn our tonsils;
We’ll see some Burlesque babies peeled;
We’ll maybe visit Marshal Field.
We’ll bunk in a Hotel ,
If all things go well.
Chicago sounds like–tell me–is it?
A rootin’ tootin’ place to visit!

by Ray Romine Friday, October 18, 1946