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The Grand Old Game

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Below is the poem entitled The Grand Old Game which was written by poet Keith Bickerstaffe. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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The Grand Old Game


...to Charlie Hebert, with respect and affection


Wind-swept and sunburnt alone on the fairway 
he fusses and frets with his lie; 
he's been here for ever commanding the links 
ever since you and I were knee high. 

Golf is his passion, he lives and he breathes 
for the chance to play just one more round, 
replacing his divots, observing the rules 
and keeping his feet on the ground.

Always nattily dressed he is ready 
to tee up and go for the green; 
the young guns are anxious to unseat old Chuck, 
but he's crafty, and wily, and mean!

It's the day of the championship and he is ready 
to teach these young men how it's played; 
at the turn he's ahead with a three under par, 
he will show them how great shots are made.

On the final hole two men are tied for the lead, 
they are edgy as each eyes the pin; 
Jim misses his putt, it goes wide to the left, 
and Charlie makes par for the win!

CODA

In the clubhouse they congratulate the old boy on his score, 
he thanks them from the bottom of his heart;
here's to Charlie then, to bunkers and to bad lies and to rain, 
to another shot at glory when he climbs aboard the cart!

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  1. Date: 3/24/2013 8:12:00 PM

    Oh yes, Keith, the grand old game, I'm afraid I'm a bit of a charlie myself, not that I win, just that I play it in all weathers lol, really enjoyed this poem, you did a great job on the writing. Well done. Take care, Regards Richard