Work Type: Ray Romine Poems

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A Word To The Wife Is Insufficient

You’re the girl I dream of;
You are on my mind
Forty-seven more per cent
Than any other kind.

Every night and morning–
Sometimes through the day–
A Smallish Thought I spare you:
Sister, that ain’t hay.

True, instead of flowers,
I tote a bacon slab;
Gladiolas don’t tempt me
When food is there to grab.

I compliment your beauty
Several times a week.
I take your arm (to save me)
When traffic’s at its peak.

I admire the hats you bring home,
The dresses and the hose;
As for the quips you drag along,
I weakly smile at those.

Romantic, though, I may not be–
Affectionate no whit;
For we’ve been wed for ten long years:
I’ve gotten over it!

by Ray Romine Wednesday, September 1, 1943

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A Villanelle ( ? ) On The Villanelle

It has appeal, the Villanelle;
It took me quite by storm. indeed–
I’d write one, if I thought ‘twould jell.

I’d not expect the thing to sell,
But it is far removed from greed–
It has appeal, the Villanelle;

It moves me more then I can tell–
It satisfies an inner need:
I’d write one, if I thought ‘twould jell.

A merry, gently tinkling bell
That silvers softly as I read,
It has appeal, the Villanelle.

Unique sensation, this, the spell
It casts for those who would it heed;
I’d write one, if I thought ‘twould jell.

Of all verse forms, this shall excel
As flower does the neighb’ring weed;
It has appeal, the Villanelle ,
I’d write one, if I thought ‘twould jell.

by Ray Romine Tuesday, January 4, 1944

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A Trio Of Triolets

I COULD BUILD A STUDY, or,
I ABET A TRIOLET

Nuts unto the redio,
Says the chap who likes to study;
Foo to corn and hey-de-ho,
Nuts unto the radio.
Nothing can quite lay me low
Like this air-borne fuddy-duddy;
Nuts unto the radio,
Says the chap who likes to study.

REPLETE WITH REPEAT

If it stands alone, and strong,
It can well be said again;
We can take it loud and long,
If it stands alone and strong.
Poem, story, joke or song–
What about the cuss-word, then?
If it stands alone , and. strong,
Can it well be said again?

WHIZZEN’ PRISON

Verses kick around up there
In the maze I call my mind;
Be the weather foul or fair,
Verses kick around up there.
Trapped in such a heinous lair,
Wouldn’t YOU some way out find?
Verses kick around up there
In the maze I call my mind.

All written the evening of January 8,
1944, mostly amid radio and chatter.

by Ray Romine Saturday, January 8, 1944

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A Toddler’s Lament

Since first I trekked across this stage,
Oh, MANY years ago,
A chap my folks call Santa Claus
Would always steal the show
Along about this time of year–
But this year someone new
Is filling my horizon up,
Which I DON’T LIKE–would you?

A “stinker”, daddy calls this man,
And he is full of lice–
(He’s lousy, DADDY says), like SPOT,
But SPOT is very nice!
And Santa was so jolly fat–
This one is dark and lean;
He has a little false moustache
In pictures I have seen.

Mummy says because of him
There won’t be many toys:
They need the tin and iron for guns
That make a lot of NOISE.
I think those AXIS ones have sunk
So awf’ly low because
They never were brought up to b’lieve
In dear old Senta Claus!

My daddy may be taken yet,
Which makes me pretty low–
But I’m SURE he’ll help bring SANTA back,
So I may let him go!
My daddy and my toys, to me,
Seems like an AWFUL PRICE:
To win this war, I guess we ALL
Must make SOME SACRIFICEl

by Ray Romine Wednesday, October 7, 1942

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A Third Term For The Almighty–

Back to their old time go the clocks–
That first change, did we need it?
We had no choice but to conform–
The Powers That Be decreed it.

They’ve messed things up until this earth
Is pretty much a bum thing;
But when they tell God how to run
His sun, I think that’s something!

by Ray Romine Tuesday, October 5, 1943

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A Swallow Does Not Make Me Spring

I’ll not hold forth, as I’veheard some,
At kids who swallow chewing gum,
For, once it’s down I can’t detect
An inkling of an ill effect;
And after it has lost its taste
Who can cry about the waste?
Less harmful down, don’t you agree,
Than out–on our upholstery?

by Ray Romine Saturday, October 27, 1951

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A Soldier Writes:

Thank you, dear, so far away,
For your welcome letter;
Yes, it only came today–
Tonight I’m feeling better.

Little things we used to share,
Things we did together–
Only letters can compare,
They’re our only tether.

I was careless then, I fear,
A kind of song-and-dancer–
I’ve something now to live for, dear:
DON’T FORGET TO ANSWER!
10-8-1942

Revised 9-3-43:
Thank you, dear, so far away,
For your welcome letter;
Yes, it only came today–
Tonight I’m feeling better.

Little things we used to share,
Times we had together–
Letters fill the gap from there,
Till this storm we weather.

I was, before the time of strife,
A kind of song-and-dancer;
I’ve since, though, found an aim in life:
Our letters, dear–please answer!

by Ray Romine Thursday, October 8, 1942

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A Small Sermon In Free Verse

Today,
In our uptown “Church-section”,
I went to pass
Upon the walk
Two obviously out-of-town
Elderly ladies;

And one, peering up, said,
“How do they ever
Fill them all up?”

Well, lady,
I hate saying it–
But they don’t
Fill them all up,
At least very often.

But think of all the sacrifice,
And think of the toil,
And all the money,
And the sweat,
And all the vision;
And most of all, the Faith
It took to build just ONE.
Of all these churches.

If our hearts resembled,
Even faintly,
The hearts of those whose very lives
Made those churches
So we today
Might go and worship
As we feel the urge,
They’d be filled and overflowing
Every Sunday.

But, they’re not filled–
At least very often.
But I am filled
With admiration
For the good folk
Who built those churches,
Just the same.

I think it’s better to have aimed a little high,
Than fail to function for the lack of aim.

by Ray Romine Thursday, January 27, 1944

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A Rose By Any Other Name…

This is Nineteen-forty-eight:
No absolute sophisticate
Although he be as hot as fire
Can ever sweat: one must perspire,
Whether he stroll a mile or league,
One must not tire- -Just feel fatigue.
And do the Doctors help things? Yep–
“Sore throat my eye–you have a Strep!”
And if you say you’ve Neurasthenia,
Excuse me, friend, and I’ll be senia.
I’ve a headaohe. It is plain
This whole thing goes against Migraine!

by Ray Romine Friday, July 9, 1948