Golf Poems

Some men, some men
Cannot pass a
Book shop.
(Lady, make your mind up, and wait your life away.)
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A walk in the park is a pleasure to do,
When a visit to one is long overdue,
To take the dogs too, is really great,
For the exercise is just first rate.
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we have everything and we have nothing
and some men do it in churches
and some men do it by tearing butterflies
in half
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Should I get married? Should I be Good?
Astound the girl next door with my velvet suit and faustaus hood?
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It is winter in California, and outside
Is like the interior of a florist shop:
A chilled and moisture-laden crop
Of pink camellias lines the path; and what
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There here are words of radical advice for a young man looking for a job;
Young man, be a snob.
Yes, if you are in search of arguments against starting at the bottom,
Why I've gottem.
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Softly and humbly to the Gulf of Arabs
The convoys of dead sailors come;
At night they sway and wander in the waters far under,
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ALL of us play our very best game—
Any other time.
Golf or billiards, it’s all the same—
Any other time.
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Being a Fragment
of the Natural History of New Eden,
in Homage
To Mr. Ed McClanahan, One of the Locals
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(16th January 1949)

I thank whatever gods may be
For all the happiness that's mine;
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I cannot think that Death will press his claim
To snuff you out or put you off your game:
You’ll still contrive to play your steady round,
Though hurricanes may sweep the dismal ground,
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There are two types of people:
Those who play golf,
And those who recognize it
for the idiotic malpractice that it is,
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A shoe with legs,
a stone dropped from heaven,
he does his mournful work alone,
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It was the Bondi golfing man
Drove off from the golf house tee,
And he had taken his little daughter
To bear him company.
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In the cool of the night time
The clocks pick off the points
And the mainsprings loosen.
They will need winding.
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Have you seen the golfers airy
Prancing forth to their vagary,
Just as frisky in their gaiters
As a flock of Grecian Satyrs,
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You can take your golf and the rolling greens
You tennis with manicured courts neat and clean
Your soccer, your swimming, your basketball scene -
None measure up to............FOOTBALL!
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I have been reading Pomfret's "Choice" this spring,
A pretty kind of--sort of--kind of thing,
Not much a verse, and poem none at all,
Yet, as they say, extremely natural.
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Let other leaders
Retire
To play golf
& write
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As parents…regular and grand we've come to understand
We live a life of schedules…where so much of it is planned.

Yet with our aging eyes we still can recognize
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Echo Alpha Charlie Hotel Kilo Echo Yankee Hotel Alpha Sierra Bravo Oscar Romeo November
Tango India Mike Echo Delta Echo Alpha Delta Alpha Romeo Tango
Papa Oscar Echo Tango Romeo Yankee Sierra Uniform Bravo Lime Mike Echo
Oscar Lima Delta Sierra Tango Alpha Romeo Tango
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I was playing golf
Then behind I heard a cough,
I turned around to take a look
And there stood smiling at me, a crook.
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On the golf course, among the greens so serene
stood a billiard player, looking quite keen
he held his cue stick, with a confident grin
ready to show off his skills and win
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In golf's serene domain they lay,
The ball drainers by fairway's bay.
Lakes and ponds with silent grace,
Reflecting challenges golfers face.
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For sale: golf putter. Eagle's nest.
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For sale: golf clubs. Albatross heaven.
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For sale: golf clubs. Beautiful birdies.
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For sale: golf clubs. Hole-in-one.
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For sale: golf clubs. Soaring eagles.
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When we add a memory to our life…of a special moment…a special day…how can we ensure that memory will live on…that it will not fade away?

I imagine it's the nature of memories that some will bubble to the surface…never to dim or fade…triggered by a photo…an aroma……a word…that awakens the moment that memory was made.
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