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Phil Lindsey Aug 2015
The foe now lying at your feet
Your goal in sight,
The taste is sweet,
You survived the ****** war
Bury your foe with one stroke more
He will not cry out in pain
He suffers blows, does not complain
But his revenge, his sword’s sharp cut
Goes to your heart – as you miss the putt.
pwl - 8/14/15
shot 93 this morning, watching PGA, had to write about golf. :)
I don't like the title though - any suggestions?
Matt Jul 2015
On the fifth tee
A raven spotted me

He walked right up
Near my ball
He was arrogantly
Standing tall

I tried to shoo him away
I had golf to play

And on the 7th hole
He was there again
To pester me
Much to my chagrin

Jesus is Lord
I pronounced to him

And with that proclamation
I poured that four foot put
Right in

A foul and hateful bird
Of ancient lore

Was this the bird
That Poe found rapping,
Rapping at his chamber door?

And on the eighth tee
There he was 20 yards
Up ahead
I could see

Perched upon a branch
Perhaps spying on me?

And near the clubhouse
As I rounded the bend
There he sat
Staring into the distance again
I don't think I have ever been more pleased with a poem.  I had a good laugh after I finished this one.   I hope you enjoy it.
Francie Lynch Jul 2015
When you hear of a new diagnosis
For someone known,
It begins again.
Every cloud seems special,
Every disappointment relative
To the breaking news.
My eighty on the links
Isn't so remarkable now -
Or is it?
Relative or not,
I'll carry my clubs tomorrow too.
Pain is a continual part of our lives.
Francie Lynch Jun 2015
As I approached
The eleventh tee,
     A red-tailed fox
     Looked up at me.
He stalks beside
A running creek,
     Our eyes met
     We didn't speak.
He took a peek
And lost his game.
     Then I teed off
    And did the same.
I've seen the fox several times. He hunts along the creek and across the fairways. We keep our distance. He looks as though he eats well.
Francie Lynch Jun 2015
Lilian hit eighty-five,
Shot nine holes for forty-eight;
Drives her car not to be late.
Man alive, she's eighty-five.
That's not far off, Bro,
A few thousand weeks,
I ride my Shadow,
Shoot thirty-eight.
That's not far off, Sis,
A few thousand hits,
So I'm shooting for eighty-six,
Playing with my ***** and sticks.
Francie Lynch Jun 2015
I have two T times.
One nourishes solitude
When I sip on the lip
Of my favourite cup.

One feeds the need
Of companionship
As we drive towards
My favoured cup.
Francie Lynch May 2015
I returned from three days of golf
At Lake Orion, with a philosophical man.
A PhD talked the ear off me,
And spoke so deeply on the meanings
Of life as we approached the green.
Across the fence in a sawgrass meadow
I saw a doe grazing in spite of us.
I don't remember much of his diatribe
But the ball and the doe stuck.

He continued on the fallacy of memory,
Asking me to name the cities of the Olympics:
Mexico, Rome, Beijing, Montreal,
I think I was able to name them all;
But the ****** pup swimming
Beneath the walkway
Dragging a branch underwater
Cleared the air,
Like a thump on my chest,
Took my breath away,
And stopped my ear.
It's more than a game.
Phil Lindsey May 2015
A guy named Jim from Delaware
Liked golfing in his underwear
Whatdya know and son of a gun
He finally got a hole-in-one
Guess he'll hafta get anotha pair!
Alan S Bailey Mar 2015
Without asking for more than the simple sweet simplicitys,
I am bounded by the same laws and rules for life.
No use in explaining the values of eccentricities,
We are all tools for the media, for what they strive.
A product of the temptation for power over others, we will stay
The same forever, entrapped in ice with our sisters and brothers,
The silly dreams we have, our pursuits. A tiny bit of concern to the
Rich-who live to find the right eyeliner, lip gloss-or the best set of
Nine Irons for golfing or business suits. Some day they will
Get what they deserve, some day...some day.
But too bad for me, some day came a little too late...
Alan S Bailey Feb 2015
"Opportunity," this American Dream life we so believe in,
The limo stops at the hotel, the rich people get in,
A set of old jars full of coins, a leaf blower, men with picks,
A brush put through ones hair, make up, vitamins, drugs,
The people sit in a park, the time passes, the clock ticks.

Stock market books sitting on the shelf, a church ***** playing,
A magnet stuck to the fridge, pictures with people smiling,
A war machine, the newspaper, a set of playing cards and a
Distant smile. A set of hedge clippers, a ferry crossing,

Solitaire.

A man on the curb with torn clothes and nothing at all
A set of file cabinets, clocks, the sent of a bank,
Golf clubs, a set of business magazines, a Barbie Doll,
Swaying hammocks, and one guy in the background
Who is losing it because he can't ever "take a fall."
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