Manonton Dalan

Gold Star - 32,963 Points (virginia, usa)

Taking-Chance >>> - Poem by Manonton Dalan

I hit balls in high arc
spiraling downwards at
very high speed; lost
lost in plane view; buried
somewhere in wet grass
I have to wait for rain
to clear debris around

I started with sixty five
I end up with forty two
tomorrow I will bring knife
to dig those balls buried
in mud, or stick to pry them
out of their temporary hide
if nobody beat me to it

Topic(s) of this poem: games

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 28, 2016

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