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Poetic comments about golf 

I'm often surprised at the spontaneous creativity that golfers, and men in general, sometimes display.
If you have, or know of a poem that you'd like to see posted, send it to me and I'll include it in a list below.
Please make sure it tells a story in rhyme with a nice meter.

Give the name of the author and your name if you're just submitting it. The poem doesn't have to be perfect but it should rhyme and be creative.

If we get enough interest, perhaps we'll have enough poems to publish a "men only" book of golf poems.

Perhaps we have a latent "Robert Service" of the golfing world. One never knows.

 1. Golf Poem

  

 

 

 

 

I don't know who wrote the following poem, but one of PSMGA's distinguished and well known members, Harold (moon shot) Epps, forwarded it. After reading it, I thought it was worthy of being posted here. The poem is creative and expresses a lot of what we often think and feel, but, in my opinion, it deserves a better title.

1.

Golf  Poem  
In  My Hand I Hold A Ball,
White And Dimpled, Rather Small.
Oh,  How Bland It Does Appear,
This Harmless Looking Little  Sphere.

By It's Size I Could Not Guess,
The Awesome  Strength It Does Possess.
But Since I Fell Beneath Its  Spell,
I've Wandered Through The Fires Of Hell.

My Life  Has Not Been Quite The Same,
Since I Chose To Play This Stupid  Game.
It Rules My Mind For Hours On End,
A Fortune It Has Made  Me Spend.

It Has Made Me Yell, Curse And Cry,
I Hate  Myself And Want To Die.
It Promises Thing Called Par,
If  I Can Hit It Straight And Far.

To Master Such A Tiny  Ball,
Should Not Be Very Hard At All.
But My Desires The Ball  Refuses,
And Does Exactly As It Chooses.

It Hooks And  Slices, Dribbles And Dies,
And Even Disappears Before My  Eyes.
Often It Will Have A Whim,
To Hit A Tree Or ! Take A  Swim.

With Miles Of Grass On Which To Land,
It Finds A  Tiny Patch Of Sand.
Then Has Me Offering Up My Soul,
If Only  It Would Find The Hole.

It's Made Me Whimper Like A  Pup,
And Swear That I Will Give It Up.
And Take To Drink To  Ease My Sorrow,
But The Ball Knows ... I'll Be Back  Tomorrow.

 

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