Best Fairway Poems


Premium Member Kiss Me Quiet

It's near midnight, whilst we moonlight walk
Palm tree lined fairway, Crickets singing
Hands clenched in loving vacationed talk
Hearts in wanting pound, Batangas is bringing
We, she and I, now amidst our intending lock
Serenity is the scene blessed by lunar watch
So late, but joyous we, soon our lips are speaking

Clouds now hover as we witness natures rain
Our apartment is distant, we welcome given 
Through broken lunar light, stroking her mane
My hands in taken then, sensuously they're driven
Kiss me quiet is whispered, hearts now in reign
Walking, slowly walking, absorbing to us this night
Hearts in touching pound, Batangas has brought




.
Categories: fairway, beauty, holiday, i miss
Form: Ottava rima

Cymru Am Byth Wales For Ever

miles of sandy beaches
and the hills so green
the highest peaks
and lots of castles to be seen

the wooded mountains
deep beautiful valleys
and the long fairway
line with trees

this is my home
to leave i will never
cymru am byth
wales for ever

the long terrains
for taking endless walks
proud of our accent
and they way we talk

so when you come to wales
you have to be aware
so much of natural beauty
to be seen every where

the sheep on the pastures
and the grass so green
the most beautiful country sides
that i have ever seen

with people so friendly
with a pace thats slow
in lots of village and towns
where ever you go

singing  land of our fathers
the national anthem
with hands on their chest
and pride in all of them

from the city of cadiff
to the port of swansea
cymru am byth
wales for ever for me

lots of celebrations
with music and dance
all coming together
singing and clapping hands

the taste of lava bread
bara brithe and cawl lamb stew
festivals of song and poetry
and the annual Eistedd fod too

the y. Ddraig goch
the red dragon
cymru am byth
wales for ever i belong

and in a house with a chimney
on the fairway
a proud daughter of wales
lives there today

cymru am byth
wales for ever
Categories: fairway, dedication, beautiful, beautiful,
Form: Light Verse

"chasing That White Ball"

A strong passion of mine in recent years 
is being on a golf fairway...
Its a place as other golfers would agree
is an escape from stress of every day...
Its definitely a whole new kind of stress
but a hand full of good shots brings smiles...
The friendships found, with either lawyers
or doctors even the bartender who hits it a mile...
We are all even on hole number one with jokes
and caddyshack quotes as one putts on the greens...
The passion for golf runs straight through my soul,
a good or bad day my smile still gleams...
Even if tired or worn out after a long day at work,
nothing stops me from making that four pm. tee time...
Either on a Myrtle beach well groomed course, or 
public one with divots and a green you can't find..
There is no better place to be then standing in a tee
box with your driver in hand..
A full swing on beautiful blue sky day and hopefully seeing
where your ball will land...


"Passion Pit" contest by "Sweetheart of Poetry Soup" Linda...
Categories: fairway, passion, sports, day, day,
Form: Rhyme

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member Golfer Talking Trash

I’m cool, warmed up, loose. I’m gonna crack this ball straight down the fairway 
all the way to the white post, clean and straight. Yeah.

I’m the king of the worm burners, oh, no, I’m the baddest Tiger of these
here woods. Ha ha, not bad, I launched that there rocket clean
into that oak, missed my forehead, missed my partner, never you mind. 
I’m out on the fairway now.  
                                           I’m cool, warmed up, loose. Got my eye on the ball.
King of Zen. Just swing and … yeah. Okay.

I’m King of the beach blanket beee-ing go. Okayyy. No problem. Golf is about practice 
and practice make perfect. Okay, closed my eyes there. 
Splash? Splash it is.

Okay, I’m Chipping King, just smack that ball into that little ole hole. 
God’s be with me. Whew.
 
I’m the man. Ain’t I the man? Blow me a-way!
It’s all won on the greens guys. Ain’t I the King? Didn’t I just chip right in? Ever see
anything like that before? MMMhmm. You on for five on the next hole?
Categories: fairway, courage, fantasy, funny, god,
Form: Prose

Premium Member Mulligan

Well, here I am sitting on the golf course
Watching the fireworks display overhead
Yes, I know I'm not as big as a horse
But at least one golfer I have misled

“Kerplunk" came the ball, bouncing off my shell
Casting it deep in the adjoining woods
That’s when I heard someone yell, “Mulligan”
They ran toward the golfer like a band of hoods

I was wondering how they knew my name
As they all ran toward the errant golf ball
And then banished the golfer from their game
Without asking if my shell had been mauled

There’s much food to be found on the golf course
So I still traverse many a fairway
But it never ceases to surprise me
How my name’s called when e’er balls go astray

Luckily my shell is hard as granite
Golf ball injuries I never sustain
So my Mulligan family moved here
Friendly golfers already know our name




Wikipedia definition of "Mulligan" - In golf, a mulligan is a stroke that is replayed from the spot of the previous stroke without penalty, due to an errant shot made on the previous stroke. The result is, as the hole is played and scored, as if the first errant shot had never been made. This practice is disallowed entirely by strict rules and players who attempt it or agree to let it happen may be disqualified from sanctioned competitions.
Categories: fairway, animal, golf,
Form: Quatrain

A Fitting Target

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!”
Categories: fairway, golf, humorous,
Form: Rhyme


Your First Tee

Ever so silent wind with its calm 
the nature of the day is brilliant
 
Anticipation of performance consumes your 
thoughts one two three and the spot light shifts
The weight of everyone’s eyes seem to mushroom 
on your approach and the most minute sounds 
become ever so present.

Hoping your body will remember 
you take your last gasp of air 
All you can do at this point 
is pray for something respectable 
As your eyes ascend and gaze 
down the fairway you exhale 
For this time you have escaped

Ever so silent wind with its calm 
the nature of the day is brilliant



-KR-
Categories: fairway, angst, faith, golf, nature,
Form: Free verse

The Slicer

We were golfing in the morning
It was me and my friend Bill
We were on hole number seven
Everything was going well

I drove my ball straight down the fairway
The shot was pretty nice
Bill leaned hard into his shot
But he had a tendency to slice

It disappeared toward the Condos
We could hear a frightening crash
The picture window tinkled down
Pieces lying on the sash 

He said I must go and apologize
To the lady in the place
He found her lying in her chaise lounge 
Dressed in frilly things and lace

He went in to check the damage 
That he’d done to her place 
He came out two hours later 
With a big smile on his face

She said don’t worry ‘bout the damage
I already have been paid
My day has started very nicely now
What a difference it has made

I may have lost a window
But the breaks been very nice
You can stop in any time
It has been a slice
© Vic Pister  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: fairway, funny, golf, humor,
Form: Rhyme

Beached Bare-Foot Prints

: adventure, beach, cry, deep, imagery, ocean, power,

BEACHED BARE FOOT PRINTS

My foot prints gladly set to the whetted sands as I stand and whiff the seashore
Missed since last year’s southern holiday visit and just as many times before
It is a good old ‘home week’ that the tides welcoming waves shout to me 
And I can see the silly sandpipers flit once more as I stand near-bye suddenly
They race the out-tide for banked treats left on the gleaming wet platter to feed
Quickly before the in tide's wallop mounts closer frothing at its mouth with greed
In and out the tide's wave displays its curling white coils with intoxicating joy
Soothing in spirit, yet have very beast-like tomes of 'command call-backs' that decoy 
Me into venturing nearer to just wet my sand covered toes and take the dare
It knows I want to become reacquainted with its wet swirling hot-tub fairway fare 
That will tickle and caress me and lick me deeper within and underneath its waters keep
Again I will trick the sea and surface surprised and happy to be ducked in its wet deep.
Categories: fairway, adventure, beach, cry, deep,
Form: Free verse

Best Friend

My best friend is a puppy 
Who loves to be with me
He’s always giving kisses 
While he's sitting on my knee

I love to take him Golfing 
And watch him have such fun
As walking down the fairway
He’s always on the run

You get home in the evening 
To see him jump for joy
His little tail a wagging
He brings to you his toy

Then life shows its true colors
It stabs you with a dart
It takes away your pride and joy 
And kills your happy heart

Oh it’s not right to steal you Joy
To take away your boy
And leave you all the Grief and pain 
And happiness destroyed
Categories: fairway, absence, animal, death, dog,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Golf Widows

What is it, this royal and ancient game
  that gets in your blood and under your skin?
That invites in men’s hearts a peaceful aim
  till you shank one and your head starts to spin.
Not just a game for sadists and man-boys
  though it helps if misery becomes you -
new graphite, titanium and steel toys
  vex me slowly but what am I to do?
I am hooked, addicted to the flagged green,
  and no persuasion can my fix deny -
no finer joy (with pants on) has there been
  but take my wife before my clubs or die!
To all you widows who mourn us at play
hear this…it’s the fairway or the highway.


          Written: September 2004
Categories: fairway, golf,
Form: Sonnet

The Grand Old Game

...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.
Categories: fairway, friendship, sports, tribute,
Form: Quatrain

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!
Categories: fairway, friendship, sports, tribute, old,
Form: Quatrain

Hot From the Oven

They bake the bagels fresh in Fairway*
In the public eye.
I rarely pay attention
Even when I'm passing by.

The pumpernickel bin was bare, though;
Nothing else would do.
I asked the baker rolling dough
If, possibly, he knew...

When there would be another batch.
He checked and told me - wait!
In just 3 minutes they'll be done.
Though I was running late...

I followed his advice and yes,
Within 3 minutes' time,
I filled a bag with bagels
That were worthy of a rhyme.

*local supermarket
Categories: fairway, food,
Form: Rhyme

The Grand Old Game

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.



Last Modified: September 03, 2015 at 09:06 am
© bickerstaffe - all rights reserved 

Author Notes


...to Charles E. Hebert Jr, my father-in-law and patient golf instructor!  May he Rest In Peace.
Categories: fairway, sports,
Form: Quatrain
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