Best Clubhouse Poems
We were replacing burned out outside light
bulbs at clubhouse. A wasp had built a nest
in the top of one of them. Two wasps bit my
thumb and it swelled all up. Here is my poem
related to this incident.
Willy the Wasp
There once was a wasp whose name was Willy
And some people thought he was really silly
Fluttering in between humming bird feeders
Thinking his food was measured by meters.
Had been some things unbeknownst to me
Where would Willy the Wasp possibly be
Some say after he had heard nature calling
Started playing around with all the pollen.
Willy would distribute it here and there
And ended up all over and everywhere
Results of his efforts had made much room
For fragrant flowers who wanted to bloom.
After all of Willy's history we would inspect
He helps keeping control of a certain insect,
And when you like us find yourself frugal
Can find insect name through use of Google.
Jim Horn
Quiet and still now.
The swing occasionally catches the air.
The tire never moves.
There’s no one there to care.
The jungle gym beside it is played with by squirrels.
The sand box below holds creatures quiet and shy.
Tiny plastic men are lost in the sand deep below.
A metal car is with them, once favorite of them all.
Leaves stir in the clubhouse, with spiders in its loft.
My son hadn’t played with it for a long, long while.
But I hadn’t noticed while he was here running in the house.
And now when I see the Wooden Swing Set…
It’s connects with my empty heart.
A touch of Empty Nest Syndrome brought this poem to me.
Every so often, my mind wanders back to the summer of my youth, where a specific memory awaits.
Having completed my first year at University, I’ve come home. My younger brother John, fifteen, seems all grown up, so different. He’s gotten taller but it’s more than that.
I'm surprised when he offers me a tour of his new ‘Boyz Only’ clubhouse. I almost wonder if he has missed me while I was away, likely not. The shell of a hand-me-down camper has been converted into a hangout. When I mention that he keeps it surprisingly neat, he snickers and reveals his stash of hidden girlie magazines, safe from the inevitable parental inspection.
I am impressed, and at the same time, I can’t help but feel like I’ve entered a time bubble, a door, a transition. On one hand, it feels surreal; on the other hand, it’s simply an honour to just sit here as a guest.
I talk to John about what it was like to adapt to life in the big city. He talks to me about his recent exploits and his adventures with his friends. It isn’t long before we reminisce about the escapades we shared when we were younger. In our pauses, we’re somehow cognizant that we’re one step closer to adulthood, to what we might call freedom.
In the past year, I haven’t thought much about home and our countryside fields. For me it’s more about what the future has to offer. But on this day, it’s tangible how John and I are setting out on different journeys. He is next in line to fly the coop and I'm sure he realizes it. As we spread our wings, it’s obvious that the gap will only grow.
This precise moment clings golden to me, ever so close to the surface of my heart.
at the forest’s edge
by the old baseball field
youth within reach
AP: 1st place 2024, 2nd place 2026, Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on September 1, 2025 for contest 2025 POETRY MARATHON MILE 13 sponsored by MARK TONEY - RANKED 1ST
and on November 15, 2025 for contest 2025 POETRY MARATHON QUALIFIERS' FINAL PLACEMENT sponsored by MARK TONEY - RANKED 14TH
Some lads are running with the ball,
leather, pointed, played by all, though
some would say it’s from the south,
it’s just as popular, up in Louth
Now not for me to bring up class,
seems that would be rather crass,
but here’s the thing that holds
steadfast, most of us are middle-class
But we don’t care where your’e from,
when you tackle like a bomb, we’re all
the same when match is done…
beer, good cheer, and clubhouse fun.
Mickey Mouse,
has his own clubhouse.
He's a real celebrity,
you can see him at Disneyland or on TV.
6/16/15
On the course at Coomealla where the Murray River wends,
Golfers hit their balls and miss the kangaroos,
Now their aim is not to hit them where a fairway shot extends,
For a wayward shot can see us golfers lose.
We had walked our way around the course and had two holes to play;
Kenny James with me, and slowcoach Timmy Wright,
We were lucky ‘cause there’s not a ‘kangar’ in the way,
But the clubhouse balcony is in our sight.
It isn’t only kangaroos that tend to be a target causing strain
That makes the likes of Timmy’s golfing crook,
He find’s the red gums and the black box, time and time again
When playing shots not written in the book.
So for half our day out on the course we’re hunting Timmy’s ball
In amongst the drying grass and brittle bark,
But today he’s concentrating better and we wonder after all
If we can make the clubhouse before dark.
We’re starting to get fidgety with Timmy stalling on this hole,
Where the clubhouse balcony has come in sight,
For Timmy’s looking up and down, and measuring control,
Then checking if the wind direction’s right.
But Ken got really narky, and then he pointed at the tee,
Shouting “Tim, for God sake have a swat!”
Tim looked toward the balcony, “The wife is watching me,
So my swing has got to make the perfect shot”.
Ken looked up at the balcony, and scratched beneath his chin,
I could see his mathematic mind in gear,
At first he shook his head and then he added with a grin,
“Forget it mate, you won’t hit her from here!”
Legendary star Mickey Mouse
Lives with his pals in a clubhouse!
Say he lost his journal filled with
doodles.
All he has to do is scream “Oh
Toodles!”
"Goosh, is that who I see",
"Winnie the Pooh, It's Mickey Mouse, do you remember me?"
"Where are you going Winnie? I am on my way to Disneyland",
"Where I shall meet all of my friends".
"Me too Mickey , I shall see you there near the honey tree",
"Where me and all of my friends will be".
Time goes on, Mickey Mouse and Pooh Bear and all of thier friends meet near the honey tree,
They all were filled with glee.
Mickey, "I want you to meet my friends Christopher Robin, Piglet and Eeyore",
..."then there's Roo, Rabbit, Tigger, Owl and Kango, oh boy"...
"Aw gee, the same for me, meet my friends Donald Duck, Daisy Duck, Goofy and Pluto and Minnie Mouse",
"We would love for you to come to our clubhouse".
The clubhouse filled with friends and friends anew,
...so many they did not know what to do...
They decided they would have a tea party with lemon, honey and cheese,
It's two o'clock the air filled with laughter and voices saying "pass me the cheese please".
When the party was over it was time to clean the clubhouse up, so everyone had a task,
Things were done when one hour passed.
Then it was time to say good bye, Mickey yelled "I will see you soon" to Winnie and his friends,
Winnie's reply was, "just let me know when".
Off to the Hundred Acre Wood where they all lived, Christopher Robin led the way,
While the others followed, it seemed that they all enjoyed their stay.
[contest entry ] Jackie Thomas 1/5/2013
Micky Mouse
Has his very own Clubhouse
His best intentions often go awry
Minnie helps with a smile, "Hello big guy"
Donald Duck,
Has a temper that makes him go amuck.
Often annoying Micky, he thinks he knows everything.
His temper tantrums rile him up to a fighting swing
9/1/2021
Cleritoons Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
One of Micky mouse quotes :“To laugh at yourself is to love yourself”
She ignited the string of words,
The intensity and passion in my heart
Her tender whispers calls me out;
The wonderful serendipity of meeting her
Everywhere I vanish,
She lets me fade in her elusive trance,
The swaying of trees,
The humming of birds,
The chirping of crickets,
The swishing of leaves
It’s a clubhouse better than us
The ground looks like an evening gown
Of flowers and leaves, vibrantly hued
She makes me swing in her lap
Every time I experience her ocean of calmness,
I soak myself in the spring of madness
And slowly she caress my soul
And resurrects me to a different paradise
My poetry is frozen without her,
My Mother Nature
I grew up in a very small town,
A small town in which I still live,
A town where even my parents grew up,
A town for which all I would give.
Down on the corner, the small barber shop,
Where 'Grandpa Jones' first cut my hair,
And then next to that is Pop's Ice Cream store,
Where sodas were made with such flare.
The movie theatre where soldiers did fight,
For the land of the brave and the free,
And in my backyard, all my friends there would meet,
In my clubhouse way up in a tree.
The schoolhouse with only one old musty room,
With a bell tower sitting on top,
We'd play in the courtyard for all we were worth,
Till the school bell would tell us to stop.
And when I got older, the town's coffee shop,
Where friends there would meet to discuss,
The state of the Union and prices of gas,
Which at times would cause someone to cuss.
I never would think of leaving this town,
Its life-blood now flows through my veins,
It was good for my father, for me and my kids,
And to leave would cause nothing but pain.
So I'll live and I'll die in my little home town,
And be buried up there on the hill,
My spirit now free to wander through time,
But in fact I'll be living here still.
-For Landscape and Towns contest - May 20, 2017
So now we sit around and stare
The truth is that there's no one there
Not a soul found on the street
A passing wave would be a treat
At fifty five
While still alive
A choice was made
And plans were laid
As seniors this was all quite new
Now open to a lucky few
A clubhouse with some gorgeous ground
Surely neighbors would be found
Day and night we'd be so busy
Activities would leave us dizzy
So finally we made the switch
Moved right in without a hitch
We then just took a casual walk
To find someone and start to talk
Yet not a soul was to be found
As we made our stroll around
And soon our hearts were full of dread
Had we found the living dead
So now we simply sit alone
Hoping to just hear the phone
So when it's time to sell your home
And find a place to settle down
Remember just to check it out
Or be the only one in town
There's more to life when you've got cash
Then see your neighbor
Take Out trash
...to Charlie Hebert, my father-in-law,
with respect and affection
Wind-swept and sun burnt alone on the fairway
he fusses and frets with his lie;
he's been here for ever commanding the course,
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's all ready
to teach these young men how it's played;
at the turn he's ahead with a three under par,
he'll 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, to bad lies and to rain,
to another shot at glory when he climbs aboard the cart.
Meanwhile, at the secret clubhouse ....
Detective John McClane: Anyone up for a game of poker?
Dirty Harry: Feel lucky punk?
Detective John McClane: Yippie Ki-Yay mother******
Dirty Harry: Did you just call me a mother*****?
Hans Gruber: I am the only mother***** here.
Sigmund Freud: So tell me Hans, when did you first realize you had these feelings for your mother?
Detective John McClane: Siggy, Siggy, Hansy Boy is a second-rate East German terrorist with a lousy accent, he isn't some twisted, perverted freak.
Andrew "Squiggy" Squiggman (walking in the door): Hello!
Mad Hatter: You’re late.
Andrew "Squiggy" Squiggman: I was on a hot date.
Mad Hatter: You're also a liar.
Mr Kotter: Do you have a note from your mother Mr. Squiggman?
Arnold Horshack: Yes Mr. Squiggman, where for art thou note from thy mother?
Andrew "Squiggy" Squiggman: This is my note.
Mr. Kotter: That isn't a note. That's, that's...
Vinnie Barbarino: Ba-ba-ba-barbarino, Ba-ba-ba-barbarino.
...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!