Category: Vanity

Thom aging share
One saving grace:
Who loses hair
Is gaining face.

by Ray Romine Monday, November 13, 1950

I’ve never liked to wash my hair,
But I’ll control my heart-torn sob–
Why worry over what becomes
Annually, a smaller job?

by Ray Romine Sunday, August 12, 1951

Dear friend: you’ll have to go,
Whose every word and action
Kills my quiet glow
Of selfish satisfaction.

For, since I’m down for days
And only up a minute,
Give me one word of praise
And let me glory in it.

by Ray Romine Sunday, November 25, 1951

You may think: you have done everything under the sun
that’s immoral,
Like running a red light, or taking out someone else’s
goral,

Or carrying matches,
But have you, when they at last aren’t worth any more
patches,

Been forced to toss in the rag-bag your last pair of
pajamas
And have to sleep so that your conscience goes after
you with tongs and hammas?

Surely no one ever felt less unexposed than I without
my pajama pants, sir–
No, not even a nudist or an artist’s model or a dyedin-
the-flesh fan-dantsir.

There is something I can’t explain, quite
About this being unclothed in the night;
It may be true I can’t be seen; yet if the walls have
ears,
May not the pictures on my walls have eyes, and the
eyes have jeers?

I fear so, and though you prate that what matters it
once I get to sleep?–
I reply that I can dream can’t I–and still feel cheap?

And I maintain there is nothing so degrading as gallopping
about in nightmares
If one must be always stealing things off clothes lines
so as to dodge peoples’ stares.

I would even settle for having a suit that made me look
like Gen. Homma,
If only some kind soul would sell or will me a pair,
or even a single, pajomma!

by Ray Romine Friday, August 2, 1946

Unlike fair Apollos and Venus-like sneerers,
I steer clear of lakes, shiny autos and mirrors.
With my face there’s nothing can bring on dejection
As quickly, completely, as sober reflection.

by Ray Romine Saturday, November 24, 1951

My hairs desert me one by one–
Sad blow to him who had a myriad.
They speak of hair as “going back”–
It isn’t. It’s just going period.

by Ray Romine Monday, November 13, 1950

Since first my wife could notice it,
She took it bravely, looking pained;
But if I’m pushed, I will admit
Our kisses are a little strainedl

by Ray Romine Sunday, March 28, 1954

I saw a maid one autumn day
Across the street, that is to say;
And she looked sweet, as all girls are
When first you spy them from afar.

I crossed the street, and looked again–
I started wearing glasses then.

I saw her in a week or two,
And she was wearing glasses too!
Imagine my surprise, can you?
(I’d thought me quite a handsome view.)

Your face may look o.k. to you,
And that’s the other fellow’s view.
Laughing, worried, fat or slim,
The other guy’s looks best to HIM!

by Ray Romine Saturday, October 31, 1936

Can’t brag on me, of course, all due to
Modesty, but how get YOU to?

by Ray Romine Friday, September 19, 1952

I’ll try again! I’ll turn the page;
I’m full of fight; I’m far from whipped.
And yet a comeback’s hard to stage
Without admitting I have slipped.

by Ray Romine Tuesday, July 3, 1951