The Golfer Poem by Deb Panda
The Golfer
I’ll strike the Ball –
In a never –trodden way towards Point;
To observe those distant fall,
Of a long plateau next to start,
With Sharp steam – and no recoil.
On follow, that will never follow the world
Above highest glacier of heaven –
And again accelerating down – world,
And may not pitch on the cold – arm soon,
Into hole of the best Golfer; godly – legend.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
5/5/2024 9:39:08 AM # 1.0.0.1119
