What better way to have some fun upon a summer's day.
Standing on the first tee, with my pals, about to play.
Wishing all my fellow hackers, "have a real good game!",
Secretely hoping they mess up, 'cos I want all the fame.
It's my turn to address the ball, a good drive starts my round;
Soaring down the fairway t'ards the first green it is bound.
A three wood for the second shot, what luck, I catch it flush.
The ball pulls up beside the pin, good heavens, what a rush!
Though putting is my frailty, I line up, take dead aim.
The ball runs true, it drops in clean; my colleagues chant my name.
A birdie to begin with, could I wish for any more?
The next hole is a stiff par 5, I'm hoping for a four!
Well those of you who play the game will guess how things panned out.
Bringing egos down to earth is what this sport's about.
The hoped for birdie on hole 2 became a feeble 7,
I sank towards my golfing Hell instead of sporting Heaven.
I struggled through the next sixteen with more bad shots than good,
My rhythm, poise and balance were disjointed, raw and crude.
One more birdie, on hole twelve, a challenging par 3,
Flattered to deceive me but there was no victory.
My only consolation as I watched Bill take the prize,
Was knowing that my handicap was surely going to rise.
My age was telling, winning would no longer be a habit.
I had to face the stinging truth, I had become a rabbit.
Still, overall, I had enjoyed some great sport in the sun,
And after all, I told myself, "it's just a bit of fun."
Half an hour later we besieged the nineteenth hole.
"Craic" and camaraderie were so good for the soul.
We all agreed the course today was in a pristine state.
We drank a toast to all the staff who kept it looking great.
The mighty trees, the verdant grass, the shimmering blue lakes
Combined to ravish every eye and blot out our mistakes.
For golf to raise the spirits Nature's glory must impress.
Vibrant colours and the lark song banished any stress.
All of us who live our lives like springs so tightly coiled
Disagree with Mark Twain's view that "golf's a good walk spoiled."
|
 |
Sports Poetry
Contest Winner
|
|
|
Author Notes
Sporting competition, friendship, the beauty of Nature, gentle exercise, a cold pint of beer. Golf surely has it all.
A rabbit is a golfer functioning at the lower end of the ability hierarchy.
|
|
