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The truly beautiful game
by Brian Dickenson (Age: 73)
copyright 08-11-2006


Age Rating: 7 to 127

 


A crisp bright morn,
Wine-like air
Friends greet each other,
The day bids fair.

The swish of club,
The crack on ball.
That felt good,
‘Great shot’; the call

A leisurely stroll,
The next shot planned,
Skill? As usual,
Takes a hand.

A nine iron shot,
Fate is kind.
Teeth unclench,
Nerves unwind.

You’re on the green
A twelve-foot putt;
Slides by the hole,
Club-face shut.

To strong a grip,
The drives a hook,
Silence reigns
You’re scared to look

It’s in the rough
Close by a tree
Teeth are gritted.
Oh! Bugger me.

Your partner walks over,
Smiling, kind,
Says ‘It’s only a game
So never mind’. (As if)

You’re on the green
Four feet passed on a downhill lie,
Ball finds the cup.
You heave a sigh.

Back in the clubhouse,
Feeling grand,
Though the game didn’t go
Quite as planned.

That drive on the third
Was something to see
Did I hit it that well?
Was that really me?


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Comments on this Article/Poem:
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09-15-2006 Richard Reed Jr    

For me, "golf truly was a good walk spoiled".

I can at least foul off a baseball. I can't even hit that little white plastic demon.

Good write, made me feel like I was on the course.

But, I won't curse nor wrap my nine iron around a tree, LOL.

Rich


08-18-2006 Jack Curson    

I should start playing agian, it truely is a wonderful game even if one shot makes your day.


08-12-2006 David Pekrul    

This is a very poetic and well-written commentary on the game of golf. I've play only a few times, but when you get that one great shot, it makes the whole game.


Visitor Reads: 350
Total Reads: 366
Comments: 3

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