a satiric
spunky sperm
twisty tippytoe
through the
outdoor civilization
renewing fairway
to engorge
prospect goat
recasting stubble
noninfectious vibrational
hubbub pyrophobia
luridness hallelujah
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • August 3–9, 2026)
Skin felt the pain
While playing a peaceful golfing game
Challenging the course’s blister campaign
Terrorizing the toe
Forcing a temporary surgical sew
Oh
No
To keep this show
On the go
They must know
Basic health care
Not to scare
Removing infected nail
Transporting remains towards the waste management pail
Bloody and red
Now dead
Left as trash
Above the fairway grass
Next to Frank’s Furter
Who was murdered
After pork barrel spending
And over lending
Worth commending
Pending
Cooking the links
Hearing what others think
About another medical review
Of the pinkie one too
Country club house bound
And the parfect round
No bogeys in sight
Feeling right
Since all has healed
Closing the deal
Without a squeal
Or scream
From the green
Manicured and pristine
Ready for a four-day dream
TIGER THE SQUIRREL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There once was a golf-loving squirrel named Tiger
In a golf cart, he was never a rider.
He chipped acorns with flair
Through the crisp autumn air
Sinking putts while his tail waved ever higher!
At Augusta he drove from the tee with a crack
Sending pinecones far down the fairway track
With one paw on his hip
He'd adjust for the slip
Of wet leaves—never missing a shot back!
His hole-in-one made the ‘woods’ cheer
As blue jays swooped down to draw near
With his green jacket Tiger bowed, twitching his nose
He practiced from dawn till night, for his fame arose.
Tiger, the Masters golf champion all creatures did revere!
“Turn the page!”
Beth begged, the almighty’s rage
“Is this a real combative stage?
Released from its contained cage?
Prayed her questionnaire
Wondering if anyone cared
Teed off a bit
Beth held back, throwing a fit
Instead, she headed towards the links
Goal, pondering and think
This is a fairway
To live a day
Make it to the green
Only a dream
Find the pin
Earn a win
Knowing it takes a nice drive
Along with a cry
Screaming ‘what fore’
Let’s show war
The door
Peace should reign
Enjoying this parfect game
Where eagles and birdies, never blame
Or complain
Fortune and fame
As a hazard instigating pain
On the Fairway Street
Covered with pine trees
I want to walk with you
Underneath this dark clouds
I have my umbrella with me
In case it rain we are covered
Don't fear if darkness gets in
I'll be your light to guide you
Just hold my hands to get courage
Just be near to me I'll hold you tight
How far our walk it will be synchronized
How far we go I'll be there for you
How far our life we lead I'll go with you
Till we get old I'll walk with you.
bizarre stuff
in fact, she'd never visited a golf course before
in fact, as i took my daughter to the clubhouse toilet
i held the door open for her
the contents of the coffee was
all over the floor
i hit my tee shot against the trees
and the ball ricocheted back onto the fairway
'Good shot!' my mother yelled
there was a lot of top of the lungs stuff
MASHED POTATOES
i shanked it
mammy chops and bunkers like thunder thighs
my daughter wants to sleep in a bunker
i want to throw my clubs in the lake
worm burners
and municipal memories
this was meant to be a love sonnet
i'll be your caddy
i love you flagstick
Fair is a word tossed between us,
quick breaths across wet teeth—
a fleeting agreement that nothing ever is,
except for our burning complexions
beneath the relentless, arid graze of summer sun.
The skin engaged in a heated debate.
But that was a different fair, much like the weather
which, on that day, was not.
The air thickened between us, choking in the scorch,
on the brink of calling it quits.
Then, we reached for each other's hair,
pleaching the fair fringe into a single French plait,
holding the tension steady with every strand—
a silent pact of reconciliation.
Flyaways re-tamed, we resumed our journey,
a fair sojourn toward the next fiery skirmish.
Over orange peels on the dashboard,
amidst a shared coffee, we lost ourselves—
debating whose turn to sip, which turn we missed that day.
Driving faster past the fairground,
children's screams echoed, tossing fares paid
like quarters ablaze in pockets emptied,
desperate for escape onto the open road.
The tollbooth's metallic throat protested with clangs
as change cascaded into the plexiglass bank,
accepting the expense to propel us forward
along the road until the next stop,
on our fairway.
Swing's Ooh Mighty Swing's
..... The Golfing Season Brings!
Watch Our Hopes Arise,
From The Fairway Side To The Green!
With Every Single Hole We'll Mark,
From Your Bag,
Get Your Stick's, We Should Score With Art!
So Swing And Let Your Love Impart Your, Way!
Par, Par, Birdie, Birdie,
Start The Show, A LIttle Bit Of Power,
And We'll Go, Go, Go, O'Kay!
Swing's Ooh Mighty, .... Swing's!
May and My Lesson
Hey, the month of May
You are leaving with your days passing away
For me, your fully passing away is just a say
The lesson you have left behind for me is gonna stay.
Dear May, you know what
My mind always values the trust
Trust which makes me stuffed with positive result
Trust which makes my body adjust with all the negative thoughts fully crushed.
But, my dear friend may, on one of your passing day
My mind saw that trust moving away
Since that day, I had a broken ray to stay
Since then, I was not okay as I was left without any way
Now, May, as you are my friend and you are gonna be away within a few days
I feel like I should be very honest with what I wanna say
when trust moved away, I struggled to keep my breathe stay
I worked hard to hold back the broken ray
Yes May, It is true that trust has gone away
But, it is also true that even without it, I breathe everyday
I feel like without trust life journey is a fairway
I am successful to make my soft side walk away
May, you are a true friend
You have taught me the contend
Your company has been a great stipend
You would be my friend even after your end.
The Business of Autumn
David J Walker
1. The season of dry clouds and Canada Geese
Arrived over the weekend
2. The weatherman says the freeze was
too light last night to have been noticed
3. A frost is in the forecast but rescheduled
for some other tomorrow
4. The full moon demands homage
deserving its observations
5. before the sun sets
on another harvest
6. The farms have formed seas of
ripe corn and white cotton
7. bordering a thousand small towns
in every direction
8. allergens release in the winds the
invisible seeds of misery
9. The last days and nights of the whine of
cotton gins bailing good fortune
10. The business of autumn comes to an end
On the fairway of a county fair
11. The next rain will be cold and will
Hold its verdict … Ice or snow…
until after Thanksgiving
Methinks, who wanders after pint size toy
To which Aristocrats bow in humbleness?
Afore the little toy went to dance with the rough,
Off the tee in bounces, unto the way unfair,
Wrong way, or off the fair fairway,
Thought hazard but out of bound!
Grudgingly he bowed for a retake,
Now to the little toy the mighty was humbled.
Pint size, mint size, bright white,
Toys in colour bundles.
Fly it goes in kiss with the sky
Little toy, little joy laced in greedy-burden.
Amidst the Aristos stood the landlord, well-trodden,
Yes, the Capo whose toy ran him out of bound,
Silly toy, bad troy, “O, not my day!” He mused.
His baroness hummed, bumped her bum in bummer,
Pitiable they were before the bunker.
“Handicap will tell.” She said in laughter.
But the Aristos were called handicaps too,
Laughed I was at these “Handicaps”
As they missed the little hole in taps.
Hopped the Aristo to win the hole;
Warped the baroness in prayer he missed the hole,
The little hole, pint size toy.
With smiles, his toy, she glanced,
The Aristo did miss the hole.
I laughed at the people of holes.
Hmm! Life with Golfers and little holes.
No stony wall stands there today,
in farmer’s meadow near fairway,
rivulet of memories flow,
limestones in rain do wash away!
The trees look up at clear blue sky,
in secret at me, perhaps pry,
gentle breeze runs past soggy grass,
deep beneath our past footprints lie!
Waist high remains of limestone wall,
hand built to stop boundary brawl,
owners since melted into time,
meagre stones remain, if at all!
In distance afar life does flow,
see a church, houses in a row,
school of our days looks much the same,
within new voices, now echo!
Slow in silence I walk away,
up the beaten path, make my way,
the wall behind, in my mind looms,
holds my heart, begging me to stay!
The Wall in the Woods contest
Ranked 13th!!
sponsor Craig Cornish
written 02/October/2020
I play golf on Sundays.
On fairway, I hit straight.
Hitting ball with iron clubs
ball soars high in air
It is such a sight to
watch it soar and land
at a spot you aimed for.
Pushing it for a putt
I put it in a cup with a flag
and try to win my match
with par or low count
such as gaining a bird.
A drink to mark finish
of a good occupation
along with your fourballs
is a satisfying finish.
26.7.2020
Lipogram Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsor Emile Pinet
Sticks bewitched by fairies’ play;
They often lead my ball astray;
The woods much easier for to find;
Than grand fairways of greenery fine;
Of this there can be no doubt;
Golf balls are related to trout;
For every time I play a round,
Into the water my ball is bound.
Maybe it’s bass or perch they seek;
Either way they find the drink;
Sand on a beach, now that is fine;
But in a fairway, is a crime;
It cannot be my skills are amiss;
For many other’s hit shots like this;
I think I know who to blame;
The Scot’s invented this blessed game.
Every time I go to the store;
I see those same bare walls;
What's the issue;
What's America doing eating toilet tissue;
Shelves are still empty,
no matter what time I go;
And every time I go to the store;
I see those same old blank walls;
America what's the issue;
What you doing eating toilet tissue;
Shelves are still empty no matter where I go;
I go to Sam's Club, Kroger's;
I go to Fairway, Wal-Mart, Safeway;
I go to Kmart, Sears and Walgreens oops!
Some of those stores,
not here anymore;
Not trying to whine and cry;
I just want to wipe my behind;
America what's the issue;
Why y'all eating( buying) all this toilet tissue;
It's not that much bowel movement going on;
So please stop hoarding and give me a roll;
Every time I go to the store;
I see those same bare walls;
Oh!, ah! Could someone anyone somewhere give me a roll,
I,
I gotta GO-
What's the issue;
What's America doing eatN toilet tissue
5/4/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
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