Best Handicaps Poems


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. 

_____________________________________________
   Reflections | 01.10.04 |
Categories: handicaps, games, golf, green, humor,
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Forrest Gump

'Twas an emotional movie portraying the saga of a loveable chump.
'Twas about a hapless lad by the curious name of Forrest Gump!
He overcame handicaps that from birth were to be his plight,
And it seemed that everything he did, eventually turned out right!

He acted bravely when he saved the life of Lieutenant Dan.
From that point, a lifetime of devotion and friendship began!
Naive though he was, somehow Forrest always achieved,
Notable, of course, was the Medal of Honor he received!

Alas, he was wounded in a somewhat delicate place!
But he accepted this and other reverses with amazing grace!
When Forrest became wealthy from his shrimp boat enterprise,
He gave Bubba's Momma a generous check, much to her surprise!

His life turned out pretty well, after all was said and done.
He married his first love, Jenny, who gave him a little son!
He'd heard an axiom his Momma taught since he lay in a bassinette:
"Life is like a box of chocolates - you never know what you'll get!"

Gump's role was handled masterfully by Tom Hanks of movie fame,
And it heaped upon his brow well-deserved honors and acclaim!
Mister Hanks will be long remembered for his remarkable role,
And the attributes of the indomitable American spirit it did extol!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Placed No. 4 in Amy Green's "Choose One - Have Fun" Contest - July 2010
Categories: handicaps, friendshiplife,
Form: Rhyme

My Teacher

By John Weaver

At school I learned to read and write, to add and take away, 
Of geography and history and sports I learned to play 
They taught me all about the world and even outer space
And how to beat another as competition I would face

I learned of lands and cultures that had a different cause
And so we fought and beat them in many different wars
They said that strength and power was the thing I needed most
That I should learn to conquer others, no matter what the cost

They taught me how to be a winner at my work and play
And never mind the loser who may fall along the way
Through all those years of learning the plan was plain to see, 
The only thing that mattered was what I could do for ME

Then I met my teacher who taught me something new
That all those things I’d learned had nothing at all to do
With living life with purpose and thought for our fellow man
By showing care and love to others as often as we can

My teacher taught me that life is a level playing field
That we’re all in it together sharing wounds that must be healed
There simply is no difference between you and me
We’re all God’s own children and one big family

My teacher taught the needs of others and the hardships they have to face
May well have been my own, if not for God’s good grace
That handicaps and weaknesses are really there to prove
How fortunate I am to see and talk and hear and move

My teacher showed that happiness is just a case of choice
Instead of choosing sadness we simply choose rejoice
Rejoice that we are able to experience every day
The beauty that the blind can’t see and words the mute can’t say

To walk and talk and feed yourself are gifts you should embrace
It’s the taking part that matters and not who wins the race
And as each and every one of us is taking part in life
What matters most is our gratitude regardless of our strife

To be grateful for the gifts you have and not those you desire
Is the secret to your happiness and to which you should aspire
To show your love to others with help, support and care
To let them know if needed that you are always there

My teacher taught me lessons I never will forget; and I know it sounds absurd
But she taught me all of this and yet…SHE NEVER SPOKE A WORD.


(I call Emily my teacher because although she cannot speak and can do so little, she has taught me so much).
Categories: handicaps, caregiving, daughter, dedication, faith,
Form: Personification

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Pass the Baton

Study what God has made known;
ponder His Word, our mainstay.
Ready in your exchange zone
pass the baton, be alert and pray. 

Plan for success in life’s race; 
contend, despite handicaps    
Relay God’s love and God’s grace,
leave no room for generation gaps. 

April 1, 2022


Sponsor	Chantelle Anne Cooke
Contest Name	LIND30 Rhyme 

inspired by Rick Fleenor, professor at
University of the Cumberlands in
Williamsburg, KY
Categories: handicaps, 11th grade, appreciation, bible,
Form: Verse

The Bandit Kings! (A Golf Poem)

Written in Scottish dialect.

Jack, Bernard and John, the Bandit Kings,
Hae handicaps wae too high.
Each o’ them score four points a hole,
Ah canna tell ye a lie!

Me, ah’m Rabbie, the bard o’ the course;
Ah’m lucky tae score yin point.
Ah feenish the game an’ come in fur a jar,
ma boadies awa’ oot o’ joint.

Jack, Bernard and John, coont up the scores, 
Tae see which yin o’ them’s won.
Me ah look doon at ma pitifu’ caird.
"Nae guid wi’ a hunner an’ one."

Bernard says, "Jack what have you scored?"
In his posh Yorkshire dialect tone;
Jack’s lingo is great at a rugby club bash
But no’ sae guid oan the phone.

The Caverley Poond is played doon the last,
The lowest net score scoops the lot:
They’ve aw hit great drives right doon the middle;
Noo they wait for a shoat frae the Scot!

Ah dinna let them doon, ah’ve duffed ma ba’,
It’s flown fifty yairds, nae mair;
Ah tak’ oot ma five wid an’ gie it a heave
An’ they aw begin tae stare!

The ba’ flies superbly, as tho’ it had wings
An’ sails richt intae the hole!
Ah’m happy ah’ve taken these bandits doon,
At last ah’ve achieved ma first goal!

The moral o’ this tale is keep yer sporran zipped up
Dinna let them see a wee groat:
They’ll hatch oot a plan tae help themselves
Tae aw the shillin’s ye’ve goat!
Categories: handicaps, friendship, funny, sports
Form: Verse

The Least of These

some are different 
those with handicaps
handicaps is the strange word
we call to hinder
holdback and impede
burden or limit
where are the rules
those which say these
are the restricted 
and we normal
a gripping fills my chest
when i watch a crowd
react to one we label
physically challenged
this human race
depending on shortcomings
to nurse our psyche
reaching the top by
stepping on 
the least of these
i wish to meet this man
named social order
to tell him how
incredibly witty he is
to have us all fooled
swallowing the conception
that those without blemish
are superior
i will smile to myself
when social order 
meets the creator
the creator of	
the least of these
Categories: handicaps, socialsocial,
Form: Free verse


Still Swinging

After chewing shoe leather they called steak, 
in the Pencey cafeteria, 
Mal, Ackley, and I enjoyed a winter afternoon on campus, 
on the bus, and in a restaurant.
We walked across a puffy white quilt 
as students conversed, laughed, and threw snowballs.
I held my snowball until the bus driver told me to leave it outside.
We had intended to see a comedy with Cary Grant, 
but Mal and Ackley had already seen it. 
We hung out in the restaurant played pinball and ate burgers.

Arriving back at our dorms at a quarter to nine, 
Mel left for a bridge game 
and Ackley shoved his acne ridden face into my pillow 
until I told him I had a paper to write.

I couldn’t write what Stradlater wanted.
I couldn’t describe any rooms without elaborate furniture.
I couldn’t describe sporty rooms 
with trophies on dressers and pennants on walls. 
My brother Allie played baseball.
He wrote poetry on his catcher’s mitt with a green pen.
He stood in right field and recited verse from his imagination, 
in his mind.

He died from leukemia very young.
I fell into a depression, 
a garage, 
a gym with windows to punch out.
I broke my hands against our station wagon’s windows.
I cannot make a tight fist.
I curl my fingers enough to type excerpts of Allie’s poetry 
for a paper that will never be appreciated.

My red headed brother Allie, 
such a good natured kid, 
he had a good combination of extrovert and introvert, 
avoiding anger.
Sitting on his bike fifty yards away 
with his hair shining in the sun 
as I teed off, 
hoping to make a distant green and shoot under par.
Mom had scored a hole in one with him.
I still try to overcome unidentified handicaps 
on a hazardous course.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you are intrigued by this work read and review G. D. Master’s book, “Interpretations,” free in PDF format on SmashWords.com. Enter “gd master” or “interpretations” in the search bar of SmashWords to find it.
Categories: handicaps, appreciation, brother, cancer, death,
Form: Prose Poetry

We Wish It Is Not True

Our crazy hurry outwits our wits
We wish it is not true. the car speed.
The restaurants. the caution in the winds.
The rape and early sex the little child
Now knows, whose overwhelming juvenility
Had made men mad and wild 
We too are perpetrators of the deed
That beckons wails and mourning
For with each dawn, true sense's warnings
Is out our dirty door. we too that bear 
Pain's monstrous knife pierce our tender hearts.
Not just the cat burglars, beware
At whose wasting call joy departs
Or the inane thugs in the creeks 
Who adulterated our kerosene
And operate on the filthy lane;
Where accidents and deserters are the bane
Of this dying days. killing the savior of
The crying child. making us handicaps,
Our earnest dreams elusive as elusive can be
And making mere men elements of sheer disgrace.
Categories: handicaps, satiremen,
Form: Free verse

Life In Quick

First breath, dry and new, then too cry with sound, also new. Curious beginning. 
Venture forth through blindness of color, handicaps surrender to teachings via 
mother, fathers voice frightens, loud as a gong but he makes us strong. Stability 
grows in both balance and bone, rise from the crawl and stride first narrow then 
wide with pride. Run and sport, knowledge vs. instinct, error and lesson are all 
absorbed, accepted or aborted, take on the progression. Aggravation, alienation, 
company and motivation. A speaker a thinker, with tools can tinker and gain yet 
more in stride. Age and obtain the hint of rage and its terrain, harness both man 
and beast, share their desire and unleash the newly tamed. Choices in constant 
succession through life and relevance, retract with caution and advance awake. Pro 
create and pass the experiences wisely. Grow tired, weary, realize it is only time, 
years, some are long others short, importance is that they in any number not be 
wasted. Lay down now and rest, last breath, smile, a good life without denial, a 
beautiful legacy of think through ink.
Categories: handicaps, lifelife,
Form: Prose Poetry

Premium Member What I Gave

What I Gave?

I gave….nothing??
Time, and patience, and
a love of “The Game’.

She gave everything,
heart, strength, resolve,
to play “The Game”.

She is special,
handicapped, disabled,
and six years old.

Me, not so special,
did not wish to see,
her handicaps, keep her
from “The Game”.

She stood, bat in hand,
seemingly unable
to hit the ball.

I stood, confused,
befuddled when she said:
“you have to sing the song.”

“What song” I asked.
“The Baseball Song” she answered.

I looked around
seeking help when
her mother shouted
“Take Me Out to The Ball Game.”

I sang!  She Hit!
The love of “The Game”
etched itself upon another heart.

“The Game” will always be grateful
to her, for her, for 
What She Gave.

John G. Lawless
6/30/2014
Categories: handicaps, baseball, children, inspiration,
Form: Free verse

Winners Circle

If life was a horse race it would be more fair
But it’s a sloppy track
You don’t get a starting gate
Use what you have and run like heck
Fight for the rail and hope you’re not the one who falls
Better not finish last or it will be
Your fault
No matter where you started.
If life was a horse race it would be more fair
Handicaps would be measured
And equality ensured, strictly enforced
Each participant would be well fed 
And have a clean and secure place to sleep
Not to mention clean water 
And medical attention
Guaranteed to these horses
As it should be! 
In order to avoid the outrageous cruelty
Which is ignored when humans live in poverty. 
If life was a horse race, it would be more fair
And that would be unthinkable.
Categories: handicaps, 10th grade, america, community,
Form: Narrative

Hillary and Her Kitchen

Hillary and Her Kitchen

What if you were to show me some sign
That what you now had never was mine
Next thing you knew you were creator
Of a program called, "The Hillianator."

An alligator up desires likes to gobble
So never again will we have .to hobble
Along but be free and become active
Member of America where we all live.

We may have started out foreign-born
In America will never receive any scorn
Even when youth may have been a scout
And always enjoy helping others out.

Had others in mind and their each need
Helping out as well as wanting to feed
Them many subjects and food for everyone
And of their handicaps do not make fun.

So by now what you have started to see
Is not again will there ever be a Hillary
And at distillery after named a great drink
Dirty Dishes are not in my kitchen sink.

Hillary's kitchen is always completely clean
Thanks to the creation of a Clinton Machine
With it nothing has been know to dissolve
With machine all problems are able to solve.

James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
© James Horn  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: handicaps, allegory, analogy, humorous,
Form: Couplet

Winning Is Running

rhymed couplets

Advice from the oldest in the pasture,
former race horse, derby grandmaster.

We are not losers let loose in the fields;
we horses tell how effortless "wild" feels

No jockeys here, no brutal whips.
No metal bar between my lips.

No braids in my tail making knots,
I will never be forced into slots.

No giddy crowds, no owner's frowns,
All  handicaps stayed at the downs.

Out in the field when push comes to shove?
We move aside, think nothing thereof.

Winning is running, hear the steeds confess.
Trophies and purses?  We horses care less.

For jockeys, all is lost past number three;
for horses, the winning is running free.

March 7, 2020
Categories: handicaps, 11th grade, horse, race,
Form: Couplet

The Divine Ledger

I was born with a number of handicaps:
My mother’s myopia, and Dad’s hairline,
Mom’s high blood pressure, 
My father’s sleep apnea,
And a human being’s mortality.

Surgery has improved my sight.
One pill each day keeps my blood pressure down.
A CPAP machine cured my snoring.
I’ll just live with the baldness,
But nothing cures the mortality.

So I will try to get more exercise,
And watch my diet better.
I will reduce my stress level,
And take more walks in the sun.
I will love my wife and the times we share.
I will be more attentive to others’ needs
And seek to help whenever I can.

It won’t cure the mortality,
But it can’t hurt!
Categories: handicaps, death, wisdom,
Form: Blank verse

A Part of the Solution

A PART OF THE SOLUTION

We have many ministries at Heritage Baptist Church;
For willing, faithful workers we’re always on the search.
For we have many challenges within our ministry;
A part of the solution each worker here can be.
We have so many people we can bring in on a bus,
And so we have the drivers to bring them here to us.
We have the willing workers who Saturday will go,
And ride on Sunday with them, their care and love they show.
We have a good mechanic to help us with repairs;
He’s one we oft depend on, and he is always there.
We have some special people challenged by handicaps;
The Gems and Jewels workers have filled that need and gap.
And what about the “rejects”--the drunks and druggies, too?
We know they need the Savior, and so there is R. U.
We have some folks to counsel, to help them on the way;
Perhaps we’ll build a home where they can live in some day.
And how about Sunday morning--those kids who fill the aisles--
We have some special teachers who greet them with a smile.
And then we have some widows--oh, what a special place
We’ve given to these women we call “Ladies of Grace.”
There’s others who are shut-in and cannot be here where
They hear the pastor’s message, so there is Care to Share.
And those who may be living in a nursing home today
Have someone come to see them, have church for them, and pray.
Our church’s sole priority is the souls of all mankind,
So some go out soul winning, the lost to seek and find.
We have a Christian college, a Christian school so nice,
A camp for use in summer to train our youth for Christ.
We have a missions program, and helps for needy, too;
A pastor who is burdened, a staff who helps him through.
Yes, we at HBC know all the challenges we face
To reach out to Columbus with God’s great saving grace.
And we want to continue to reach out and to grow,
To spread this precious gospel, to learn, to give, to go.
And so we thank our workers, those who have seen the need
And give their time to help us in faith, in word, in deed.
Each part of the solution is honored here today
For all their dedication to the straight, narrow way.

Written for Workers Appreciation 2005, Heritage Baptist Church
Categories: handicaps, christian,
Form: Rhyme
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