From dawn until dinner with duster and soaps
She’s scrubbed and she’s labored until the whole house
Is so clean it sparkles. She entertains hopes
It just might be noticed this once by her spouse!
by Ray Romine Sunday, June 22, 1952
Work Type: Ray Romine Poems
There Should Be a Pause in the Day’s Occupation
The Lovelorn Editor has woe;
The banker, it is said, lacks dough;
The printer hasn’t time to read;
The real estate man rents: no deed;
The florist’s wife receives no flowers;
The jeweller loses count of hours;
The MD daily feels no better;
The postman’s name adorns no letter;
The butcher is a vegetarian;
The Lit. Professor, one vulgarian.
However low or high one’s station,
One’s failing’s in one’s occupation,
And so I wonder, in some fright:
Do plumber’s faucets drip all night??
by Ray Romine Sunday, May 21, 1950
There Is One In Every Crowd
A pest, to me, is that one who
Can never see my point of view;
But I prefer him to the sir
Who SEES it but who won’t concur!
by Ray Romine Tuesday, July 21, 1953
There Are Three Sides To Every Question!
My Howard friends make much ado
As to which is best for me and you:
For one talcas SPRING and one backs FALL,
And they just can’t agree at all– .
I tThink I’ll sound MY loud bassoon,
And play a heavy chord for JUNE!
For, Charles says, spring is wet and cold,
And changeable and over-bold;
While Dinny takes the stand that fall
But paves the way for winter’s squalll;
And I agree with EACH, you see:
For NEITHER season is for me!
And though it be inopportune,.
I’ll cast my ballot now for JUNE.
Yes, Charles insists that fall is best
(When trees are red and over-dressed);
But Ruth and Dick maintain the spring
Has far the best of everything.
They’ve battled forth and back for years,
And no solution yet appears.
But I don’t care a picayune
Who wins the point, so I have JUNE.
For June has berries, roses, moon;
Her azure sky’s a blue lagoon.
Her clouds are ships of white that sail
Away beyond the mortal pale;
And What, indeed, is quite so Rare–
As Day in June–I have you there!
(If I were just as energetic
Throughout this month as I’m poetic!)
Just let me thrill here, all a-swoon,
A-kicking verses out to JUNE!
Charles, take your over-rated fall–
It thrills me durn near not at all–
And you take, Dinny, Ruth and Dick,
The spring that turns me slightly sick;
Yes, take the other ‘leven months,
O Howards, far away, at wonths.
Just grant, I pray, this little boon–
Take ALL the REST, and leave me JUNE!
by Ray Romine Thursday, June 3, 1943
Then And Now
Once more that time is here–Thsnksgiving Day,
The blessed day the Pilgrim folk of old
Set up to thank their God in humble way;
Just grateful, they, for houses from the cold,
And food enough to keep up spirits bold!
Though little had they, found they then the time
To upward turn their eyes and prayers unfold:
What now is ours, still God’s is, every dime–
Let’s pause and thankful be to Him, the All-sublime!
“Lenore” — Finished 11-23-42
by Ray Romine Monday, November 23, 1942
Theater Seat
Which? That seat distant half-a-mile,
And claw and bump and brush, and be
A pest, or sit here on the aisle
And let the patrons trample me?
by Ray Romine Thursday, February 28, 1952
The Zebra
The Zebra is the standout kid
From all of nature’s types;
He must have been The Boy with her
To earn so many stripes.
by Ray Romine Sunday, January 14, 1951
The World Is Not My Oyster
One day I am full of ambition–
No goal is quite out of my reach;
And every ideal and tradition
Has the bloom of a sun-ripened peach
To be plucked and enjoyed at my leisure.
Existence has sparkle and glow
That the world might share it like treasure
Left to it eons ago.
But another, my spirits go plumbing
The soul-tortured depths of despair:
There is utter futility thrumming
Through every gray lungful of air.
But why–why this odd vacillation?
Are such folk with talent imbued?
Or is it a mere indication
Of, rather, unfixed lassitude?
by Ray Romine Saturday, February 12, 1944
The Works
That they control a mere percent
Of all the money saved or spent
The women wouldn’t quite agree.
My wife controls MY dough. And me.
by Ray Romine Thursday, May 18, 1950
The Woods To Me
In spring, all summer, and through the fall,
The woods to me is a clarion call–
What are the woods to you?
The woods to me is a catbird’s song
That trickles and trips as it skips along;
A dogwood’s blossoms beneath the moon;
A flash of butterfly gone too soon–
What are the woods to you?
The woods to me are the flowers of spring
That brave the snows while winter is King;
The smell of the dawning bathed with dew;
An indigo bunting’s startling hue–
What are the woods to you?
The woods to me means a pa,th under trees;
The lazy sunshine; ambitious bees.
When life is flat and the pleasures pall,
The woods weave a melody over it all–
What are the woods to you?
The woods to me is a living book
Whose pages open when I just look;
However often observed before,
What I first see is discovered once more.
The woods, to me, is a ringing call
In spring, all summer, and through the fall–
What are the woods to you?
….
by Ray Romine Monday, April 8, 1946