Aniruddha Pathak Poet Narrative

This Game of Golf

This game of golf as is this life, 
Played all life, perfect still can't be, 
Ever reminding of one’s wife, 
Put on pedestal, upon tee, 
Handicaps, roughs, bogies stay rife, 
And played as if on edge of knife! 

Easy to start, hard to finish, 
And harder ever to master, 
Followed like an unfulfilled wish, 
Always one stroke from disaster, 
As in life, handicaps bridge gap, 
Eagles two, birdies claim one clap. 

What rage be this game every age, 
As many highs as there be lows, 
A game ever on players grows, 
Ageless be this sport in image—
To my liking a bit high brow, 
Pricey clubs, carts, caddies in tow. 

And if ye think you the ball drive, 
Beware of game that drives you naïve, 
This game of greens, good to relax, 
Greener still goes envied player, 
And greatest of a leveller, 
Pro or novice likes it like sex. 

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   Reflections | 01.10.04 |

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