Golf Poem

Posted by Mark on February 18th, 2009

 

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 A Thing Called Par,
If I Can  Hit It Straight And Far.

This is Golf

Posted by Mark on February 17th, 2009


I stole this from Ron Greene, hope he doesn’t mind me sharing it with everyone. 

For those of you fortunate enough to read the Charlotte Observer, son Ron Greene, Jr.,current sports columnist,  has his father’s talents for the word(Ron Greene Sr., former sports editor for the Observer) . If you ever get a chance, read his dad’s collections of columns that he writes every Thanksgiving: “Things I’m thankful for”…
If you’re a golfer, this hits you square ly  in your memory recesses of this great game !…Enjoy

THE CHARLOTTE OBSERVER
RON GREEN JR.

It’s the way the first tee feels, alive with possibility.


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