Best Golf Poems

It is winter in California, and outside
Is like the interior of a florist shop:
A chilled and moisture-laden crop
Of pink camellias lines the path; and what
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Some men, some men
Cannot pass a
Book shop.
(Lady, make your mind up, and wait your life away.)
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we have everything and we have nothing
and some men do it in churches
and some men do it by tearing butterflies
in half
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Should I get married? Should I be Good?
Astound the girl next door with my velvet suit and faustaus hood?
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Husbands are things that wives have to get used to putting up with.
And with whom they breakfast with and sup with.
They interfere with the discipline of nurseries,
And forget anniversaries,
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A walk in the park is a pleasure to do,
When a visit to one is long overdue,
To take the dogs too, is really great,
For the exercise is just first rate.
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There here are words of radical advice for a young man looking for a job;
Young man, be a snob.
Yes, if you are in search of arguments against starting at the bottom,
Why I've gottem.
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Being a Fragment
of the Natural History of New Eden,
in Homage
To Mr. Ed McClanahan, One of the Locals
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Softly and humbly to the Gulf of Arabs
The convoys of dead sailors come;
At night they sway and wander in the waters far under,
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ALL of us play our very best game—
Any other time.
Golf or billiards, it’s all the same—
Any other time.
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(16th January 1949)

I thank whatever gods may be
For all the happiness that's mine;
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I cannot think that Death will press his claim
To snuff you out or put you off your game:
You’ll still contrive to play your steady round,
Though hurricanes may sweep the dismal ground,
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There are two types of people:
Those who play golf,
And those who recognize it
for the idiotic malpractice that it is,
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You can take your golf and the rolling greens
You tennis with manicured courts neat and clean
Your soccer, your swimming, your basketball scene -
None measure up to............FOOTBALL!
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A shoe with legs,
a stone dropped from heaven,
he does his mournful work alone,
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It was the Bondi golfing man
Drove off from the golf house tee,
And he had taken his little daughter
To bear him company.
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In the cool of the night time
The clocks pick off the points
And the mainsprings loosen.
They will need winding.
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Have you seen the golfers airy
Prancing forth to their vagary,
Just as frisky in their gaiters
As a flock of Grecian Satyrs,
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I have been reading Pomfret's "Choice" this spring,
A pretty kind of--sort of--kind of thing,
Not much a verse, and poem none at all,
Yet, as they say, extremely natural.
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Let other leaders
Retire
To play golf
& write
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Hole in one record

Broken thirteen times, no more,
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Dawn off the Foreland -- the young flood making
Jumbled and short and steep --
Black in the hollows and bright where it's breaking --
Awkward water to sweep.
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Many a miner has gone
into the deep pit
to receive the dust of a kiss,
an ore-cell.
...

As parents…regular and grand we've come to understand
We live a life of schedules…where so much of it is planned.

Yet with our aging eyes we still can recognize
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Because I have ten thousand pounds I sit upon my stern,
And leave my living tranquilly for other folks to earn.
For in some procreative way that isn't very clear,
Ten thousand pounds will breed, they say, five hundred every year.
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Some of you think you know me well,
but I doubt you do. Now I will tell …
‘the way it is'.
My life that is, specifically that I AM shy ….,
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[After Longfellow.]


I drove a golf-ball into the air;
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Behold, my child, this touching scene,
The golfer on the golfing-green;
Pray mark his legs’ uncanny swing,
The golf-walk is a gruesome thing!
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Ye lovers of the picturesque, if ye wish to drown your grief,
Take my advice, and visit the ancient town of Crieff;
The climate is bracing, and the walks lovely to see.
Besides, ye can ramble over the district, and view the beautiful scenery.
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Why do you love football?
What do you see in it?
Why not watch another sport
Like Rugby, Golf, or Cricket?
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There are laddies will drive ye a ba'
To the burn frae the farthermost tee,
But ye mauna think driving is a',
Ye may heel her, and send her ajee,
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All ye tourists who wish to be away
From the crowded city for a brief holiday;
The town of Nairn is worth a visit, I do confess,
And it's only about fifteen miles from Inverness.
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A Word about Vermillion*

The Sioux Falls (SD) Argus Leader
Often presents our fair city
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Blue was his colour, he always said. Went with his ice-blue Michael Caine eyes.
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I don't play golf,
and I don't drink tea,
so there's never a tee time
or a tea time for me.
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(dedicated to my all poet friends from Singapore at poemhunter)

Majulah Singapura!
Onward, Singapore!
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He told me that
he had seen me
on the cover of a dime store novel;
that I looked a lot prettier in person.
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I stand for Integrity
riday,28th May 2021

Do this or do that
...

At the far edge of the expanding cemetery
in its uncertain spiritual limbo,
its small gravestones re-emerge only in late summer
like a clipped coat, the tall grass annually machined; of
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Perspective never withers from their eyes;
They keep that docile edict of the Spring
That blends March with August Antarctic skies:
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Ancient town of Leith, most wonderful to be seen,
With your many handsome buildings, and lovely links so green,
And the first buildings I may mention are the Courthouse and Town Hall,
Also Trinity House, and the Sailors' Home of Call.
...

I remember the night I discovered,
lying in bed in the dark,
that a few imagined holes of golf
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Would you like to see a city given over,
Soul and body, to a tyrannising game?
If you would, there's little need to be a rover,
For St. Andrews is the abject city's name.
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John Henry (Tripp) Isenhour III is a real jerk,
He was at the Grand Cypress Golf course,
Where he had been taping a television when there was a sound,
Not a “Fore”,
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Hurrah for the Science Club!
Join it, ye fourth year men;
Join it, thou smooth-cheeked scrub,
Whose years scarce number ten
...

Again this misunderstanding
Again the cloudy crossroads,
What it, has deteriorated
A traffic light?
...

Politics these days has such crazy-quilt aspects to it, it is difficult to figure out what is going on.
The Blue Dog democrats lost whose very existence made people wonder if the democrats were Dogs or Donkeys. I say both.

Similarly, the Republicans have become confused with being a mighty
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A perfect golf course lawn,
A house painted by numbers,
A dog plays out back, and all
the children say, whats for
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I was about to not do an observation on the indiscretions of Tiger Woods,
After all, I was with many faults myself.
But being his pubic, uhhm, public image it warrants what people think,
Of his 'coulds', 'woulds' and 'shoulds'.
...

...

We are going down each moment everyday
There is no peace in any day
No respite and many challenges on the way
Future seems bleak and no hope for bright ray
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…be hot out of a
news item – even if
it barely ranks as ‘poetry’ -
if it moves a would-be poet
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He couldn't use his driver any better on the tee
Than the chap that he was licking, who just happened to be me;
I could hit them with a brassie just as straight and just as far,
But I piled up several sevens while he made a few in par;
And he trimmed me to a finish, and I know the reason why:
He could keep his temper better when he dubbed a shot than I.
...

...

There should be nothing here I don't remember...

The Gulf Motel with mermaid lampposts
and ship's wheel in the lobby should still be
...

His story when narrated by crawling cockroaches
The moody king enjoyed their funny approaches
Lost a game of golf
When his mood was off
...

Halloween & Birth:

A child's birth may involve suspense, fear, pain & BLOOD.
And it may seem, to mom, dad, and/or baby, a FLOOD, an
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May you share with Kyle
Your sense of humour
Teaching him to be happy
Whenever he's a little sad
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Poetry wrote me
Hole in one
Eagle flying high
Golf is business game
...

MY STORY BY A. POEM

First, let me start by saying I was never that fond of poetry.
I know, I know- -I AM a poem…
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The stream still flows,
The stream, or windows...
Eyes of the blackened refuge
Of the damned.
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Have you heard of the Scotsman of Gaul
Whom of golf feels no longer the call
After just twenty years
The worst of his fears
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Those swaying trees who bear
the turning of the seasons wordlessly,
unlike me, for I have passed into
this season where my heart has aged
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When we talk about movies
i like comedies, dramas, westerns,
adventures, sci-fi, animations
...

Her confidantes endorsed her trim divorce,
clumped like raisins in the courtroom's calm,
noting how quickly a decree can disperse
bridge teams, guest lists, golf dates, a common name.
...

When I was an elephant
I made a football with my trunk
the arm let out a violent sneeze
and so created a ball of cheese
...

Dawn off the Foreland -- the young flood making
Jumbled and short and steep --
Black in the hollows and bright where it's breaking --
Awkward water to sweep.
...

One afternoon last summer I
Sat at my local lake, as I once
Did with Clara, my now departed
Yellow Labrador.
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POEM 909 no not 606 but truly 909....

MOURNING
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The stars whispered into the ears of one another
The tale of the treachery of Judas
Laughed at his 30 silver coins
And then observed the graveyard opening!
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The jaunty crop-haired graying
Women in grocery stores,
Their clothes boyish and neat,
New mittens or clean sneakers,
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Everyone’s talking about her
this last year: on their cellphones to her,
talking about her on their TV sofas,
breakfast and evening celeb shows,
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The cops were called because a woman in Apt 12A
said she heard a shot while she was ironing her husband's wife beater t shirts
She had just cut the volume of the old phone radio down because
the news was on and Rush Limbaugh had taken the day off again and
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POEM 909

ROUWEN
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Number ONE:

Eroticism: A Limerick …. [about Eroticism; VERY SHORT; well, it IS a LIMERICK! ]
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Some might say that God had a plan
For every other woman, child and man,
To grab a club and hurry, hurry
Onto the green no later than early.
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A holiday, a holiday,
a real chance to get away.
To catch a plane, a boat, a train,
or cruise on down the inside lane.
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From childhood on
I walked the woods
and hills of Tennessee:
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We never thought they'd disappear
We took them all for granted
But now long gone, it seems quite clear
They've been permanently supplanted
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You may think it strange, Sam, that I'm writing
a letter in these circumstances. I thought
it strange too--the first time. But there's
a misconception I was laboring under, and you
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One hundred years from now when I am long gone
And there is not one mention of my name
Life it will carry on as it has always
And people will enjoy their weekend game
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The hail beats the tin roof of this old house
like a previous century stoning
the ice crashing on the corrugated steel
is reminiscent of a
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My country is the country of history and different people
Different people who live with each other by peace and love
They share a drop of rain, they share a bread
And it's easy for them to share their hearts
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Ghana, the beautiful land of aura and flora
a two weeks notice
in a country full of bliss
away just for fourteen days
...

I was given some hurry-up by some women on a power walk,
having to sprint ahead of them to save face.Gliding down
Golf Road which bisects the Titirangi Course I thought,
'I never made much progress in that pedestrian game- too slow'.
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If you can fill your time
So that it’s full with only now
And not the past or future
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Crickets and sprinklers
fill the dark with chirping;
white arcs of spray
are thrown around us,
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When you're feeling way above 'par',
And your golf ball is travelling far,
With a 'birdie' to give you a start,
Golfing is an art.
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It was almost thirty years ago now
when my family reassembled
at the beach on New Year's Day
to have a barbecue together
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After thinking many days and nights
Searching a corner of lonely sights
Where there were only dim lights
Remained afraid of bright sun lights
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Have you ever seen a red elephant
playing golf in a yellow tutu
a purple giraffe wearing glasses
a brown pelican polishing its shoes
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When we add a memory to our life…of a special moment…a special day…how can we ensure that memory will live on…that it will not fade away?

I imagine it's the nature of memories that some will bubble to the surface…never to dim or fade…triggered by a photo…an aroma……a word…that awakens the moment that memory was made.
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'GOLF-THE GAME OF FAME'


I was watching this golf tournament through the visitor's window
...

Hitting life's golf holes,
Struggling to score vague goals,
Forgot, he'd a soul.
___________________________________
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You might perchance think: why this change of face,
But things do change. Notso be from change free.
Give me one chance; he pleaded, just one grace;
Unable to think of life without me,
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Pockets full of ego
Splashing the latest gadgets
Hanging out at the most luxurious clubs
With faces made of the latest make-up
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A very diplomatic poet
decided to wait
let his girl fan
show her gait
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Did you know my friend Dave Magill once wrote a poem that killed a man?
It’s the truth. I’m not sure the guy even got to finish reading it...

Dave was peeved at him about something... I can’t remember what.
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Nhà tôi ở mãi trên đồi
Một phần mười dặm, từ đường Louser.
Đường cong cổ ngựa, trước nhà
Một bên, tường lá cả năm xanh rì
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For sale: golf clubs. Albatross heaven.
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