Posted on

I Can Dream, Can’t I?

Let someone cook up a hay-ride,
Hitch old Dobbin to the Shay;
We will have, when nights are frosty,
Fun the good ol’ Marion way.
We’ll end up at someone’s kitchen,
Yours or mine as like as not,
Where the cheer’ll be just as welcome
As the Chili in the pot.
Maybe, too, we’ll go a-carolling
If it should be Christmas Week,
And the glow from our companions
Gives us all the thrill we seek.

Let me at a Skating Party
Up at Crystal Lake once more;
Let me lead a lively lassie
Here and yon about the floor;
Let us wheel, and stroke the corners,
Let us fall and break our ….date,
Just so long as there’s breath in me,
That’s how long, friend, I would skate.

Take me on another picnic
Out where trees are trees, I beg.
I will eat potato salad,
I will even munch an egg.
I’ll say naught about mosquitos,
Or the midges or the flies;
After all, back in Ohio
They don’t grow to Army size!
I won’t gripe about cold coffee,
I won’t squawk about the beets–
I’ll inhale it all, a-shouting,
“Rowdy-dow, CIVILIAN eats!”

I could use a bit of ping-pong
In a basement I could name,
With a half-a-dozen fellows
Who are scattered–what a shame;
I could guzzle pop and pretzels,
(Bud might bring his grape-Juice, too)
Though we never beat his playing,
We could see what we can do!

Yes, I’d love to take a Bike-Hike
With the kids back home I know,
Past the woods and through the meadow
Where the rain-washed daisies grow:
Feel the wind upon our faces,
And the sun upon our backs,
Hear the yelling and discussions,
Interspersed with crazy cracks;
And we’d shout and toss a joke back
To the one who lags behind.
Even though we’re all exhausted,
No one really seems to mind.
We might even stop at Isaly’s
For a soda or a ‘shake;
I’m Just dreaming: please, saliva,
Can the drool, for heaven’s sake!

Then again around the camp-fire,
When the moon is rising slow,
And the League, both girls and fellows,
Sings a song we love and know,
I would like to breathe a prayer
With them, as they’re standing bowed,
Just to thank Him we’re together
One time more, the Salem crowd.

No, no word about my family
Have I said, at least to date,
Still–between the lines they’re with me
All the time, at any rate.
Ever wonder what a Soldier
Dreams about when he’s -away?
It’s these things he’ll do on furlough–
COME YOU QUICKLY, HAPPY DAY!

by Ray Romine Wednesday, July 14, 1943

Posted on

Hearts Over America

Hearts over America are troubled and weary;
Some aching, some gloomy and sad.
Giving thanks may be hard for a home that has loaned
A son or a husband –or dad.

Let us stay , though , and muse on those other Thanksgivings,
When Peace from her throne ruled our land:
We thanked God for the calm and the strength of America,
And prayed they’d endure, hand in hand.

We were proud of our Fathers, all the way to the Pilgrims,
Who paid for our Peace with their lives;
We frowned upon War, but our hearts had to tell us:
“That’ s the price, for the land that survives.”

Now, it’s our turn to pay for those tranquil Thenksgivings,
And for those our descendants shall know;
Let’s be grateful, America, and cancel our debt ,
That Freedom shall flourish and grow.

Hearts over America are care-worn and strained ,
They’re worried and tired; but they’re true–
For we’re thankful we’re fighting, since battle we must ,
On the side of the Red, White and Blue.

(Written for a contest–we’ll never
hear from it again–Oct. 12-14-: 1943
(in pencil:) RIGHT! – 1950!!

by Ray Romine Thursday, October 14, 1943

Posted on

Hang That Party Invitation!

Hang that party invitation!
(I toss, and twist my blanket)
It’s that coffee’s aggravation–
(! can’t sleep, and I can thank it)
I forgot it wasn’t rationed–
(So I drank it!)

by Ray Romine Friday, April 14, 1944

Posted on

Epitaph

He lived, and struggled just to eat,
Itself no mean and lowly feat;
In ’43 he lived, you see,
With ration books One, Two, snd Three.

by Ray Romine Sunday, April 11, 1943

Posted on

Draft Dodger (untitled)

Please regard me, neighbor mine,
As slightly less reptilian;
The army says I’m MUCH too OLD
For something uncivilian!

**************

O neighbor, change your stare at me
To something less reptilian;
I’m 30–that’s too old to be
A THING, besides CIVILIAN!!

by Ray Romine Wednesday, April 12, 1944

Posted on

Don’t Blame It All On Hitler

The guy who brought the small moustache
To general disfavor
No friend of mine is, nor do I
Defend his noisome flavor;

But, just the same, I think that he
Does represent exactly
A side of man that most of us
Pass’over matter-of-factly!

The evil Hitler represents–
We all have helped inspire it:
We assisted with the masterpiecei
We really should ADMIRE IT!

“Success at any price at all”‘
Has been our Yankee by-word,
Instead of that old Golden Rule,
Which might’ve turned us sky-ward.

We lived our selfish lives and laughed
At staid, religious worker;
We made a fetish of the bad,
The chiseler, and the shirker;

That might is right is never right
Is some thing we’re still learning.
Why curse “Der Fuehrer” when we find
our own thoughts evil yearning?

He pulled a fast one we’ve all tried
At one time or another:
If “nerve” you most admire in man,
Give Hitler credit, brother!

Remember “0ne-way” Corrigan,
Who made the rules to suit him?
He thought him cute to break the laws–
Yet no one said, “Let’s shoot him!”

Napoleon made the History books;
A hero, Alexander:
They burned and murdered, yet no one
Their honored names shall slander.

Look at the way we raise our kids:
Instead of stern repression,
It’s “Sit on JUNIOR? 0, My, no–
And spoil his SELF-EXPRESSION?

To just outdo the other guy,
Regardless how it hurt him–
But act that way we can’ t without
We spiritually desert him.

Just GET AHEAD, and hang the rules!
–As long as we are winning–
But cheating wrongs our fellow man,
Which makes it truly sinning.

To greed; and sin, and selfishness
In US–now, have we ever
Made really worth-while effort to
Purge ourselves first?; No, never!

To curb our avarice and grab
We very seldom bust us,
But squawk about that “other guy’s”–
Now, can we call that “Justice”?

The hate. the greed, the wrath, the spite,
That we let live about us
Prepare the way for Mars’ dark leer-
(Wars can’t be fought without us!)

For admire we do in other men–
With woeful lack of seeing–
The self-same things we do decry
In Hitler’s wretched being.

And all of which adds up to this:
War’s face shall indiscreetly
Smirk and leer ’til EACH of US
Be purged of Greed completely.

Don’t say “That time will NEVER COME!”
With fanciful pooh-poohing;
There’s hope: A FEW STILL PRIZE THEIR LIVES
AT LESS THAN WRONG-SUBDUING.

by Ray Romine Tuesday, April 13, 1943

Posted on

Did You Look In The Garages?

I saw a beefsteak on the stair;
I looked again–it wasn’t there!

The desert may have its mirages–
We have ’em, too, in our menagesl

It wasn’t there again today;
I wish to heck ‘twould come to stay!

by Ray Romine Saturday, April 10, 1943