Barry Conway


Hainult Forest Golf Club - Poem by Barry Conway

HAINULT FOREST GOLF CLUB

THE WINDING PATH,
AS IF LIFTED FROM A FAIRY TALE,
FOUND IT'S WAY,
TO THE TOP OF THE GENTLY SLOPING HILL,
WHERE LITTLE COPPICES,
MARCHED IN LINE TOWARDS THE APEX.

THE COTTAGE,
HID BEHIND THE GLINT OF THE SUNLIGHT,
PROTECTED BY THE FAUNA,
WHICH GUARDED IT.

YET,
IN THE TRANQUILITY OF THE SETTING,
HID SNARES,
SAND TRAPS,
AND A DARK, DANK LAGOON,
TO ENGULF THE UNLUCKY, OR UNWARY.
THOSE TINY SILHOUETTES,
CHASING WHITE SPHERES,
OF PLEASURE OR DESPAIR,
SET AGAINST GRASS AND SKY,
TREE AND WIND,
WHERE EVERY SAVIOUR,
FLIES FLAGS,
TO GUIDE THE SEEKER HOME,
TO RENEW.

Topic(s) of this poem: golf, hope, nature, pastime, search


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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, June 14, 2017



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