Long Caddy Poems
Long Caddy Poems. Below are the most popular long Caddy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Caddy poems by poem length and keyword.
Memory’s Shadow
by Odin Roark
There was a time
She’d float beside him
Their footsteps in sync
Their heartbeats in unison
Even at midnight
Central Park imbued their love
With colors and honeysuckle fragrance
Lake’s shimmering moon-mirror
Sending ripples through enjoined hands
But oh the face
She knew not a grimace
Nor any sadness
Her smile
Hope’s subtlety
Passion’s caretaker
Time passed
Clouded skies
Like cataracts of mind
Faded that lovely face
Their fantasy stroll
Became but silhouette
And still…
A bench remained
To sit
Dream
Listen to each other’s breath
While rustling leaves
Drifted away
Seasons passed
Strolls became nurse-chaperoned
Movement by wheelchair
Breath by oxy-caddy
His bench still stands
Warm to the touch
His nurse always stops for him to listen
As memory’s shadow whispers
“May I hold your hand?”
I roll slow through these streets,
where the whores work for tips and the blood leaks.
Money, a sad joke, hard to keep,
I pay the rent, but sleep comes cheap.
Caddy cruisin’, windows down,
the smell of piss clings to this town.
Street cred?
What’s that worth?
When every man’s born to die, cursed since birth.
Gun in the glove box, hands on the wheel,
you blink once, you’re six feet deep, that’s the deal.
You feel tough, you act hard—
but death’s got your name, kid, on a cold steel card.
We all hustle, yeah, some win, most lose,
the booze, the fights, yeah we sing those blues.
Flashing lights in the rearview, close—
but I'm running too fast, death’s chasing close.
The girls?
They fake their smiles just to eat.
A dollar buys love that’s dead on the street.
You talk big, but you can’t buy time,
even the king in his castle won’t make that climb.
See, I’ve danced with death, been shot at and hit,
but somehow I keep living in this endless pit.
You can shine up that car, make it gleam bright,
but the reaper don’t care, he’ll take you tonight.
So raise a glass, we’re all gonna fall,
flesh, bone, blood on the wall.
Till then, I keep moving, don’t ask me why—
We all pay the rent, till the day that we die.
I don’t dream often, but I dream of Jeanie,
the only one who ever touched my Nadi.
I met her bathing in the Irrawaddy.
You’d classify her as an in-betweenie,
but looking pretty hot in that bikini!
She got me going when she called me ‘daddy’!
Jean self-identified as “thorough baddie,”
but never let me see her Kundalini.
I couldn’t leave her working in that paddy,
so whisked her off to Venice. Like Houdini,
she made the transformation: loved linguini:
but part-time jobs (a waiter, then a caddy)
meant I could not afford her. One bellini
cost forty bucks! Forget the Lamborghini!
When I was a child
My father told me
Of a wondrous creature
He'd seen in the sea.
In Lake Okanogan
Ogopogo's the feature
But here on our coast
We have our own creature.
Cadborosaurus is
Our sea serpent's name.
Not as famous as Nessie
But here she has fame.
October through April
Is 'Caddy' watching season.
She must like the cold
For the water is freezin'.
Marine biologists
Have reports by the score
But not one Cadborosaurus
Has washed up on shore.
So is she there
Or is she not?
I guess we won't know
Unless she gets caught.
My father believed
That he'd seen our 'Caddy'
So I believe in her too
Because I believed my Daddy.
Dedicated to My Daddy, My Father, My Dad
Eighteen years of grieving tears have not ceased my missing of you, Daddy!
Daily, I speak prayers aloud, asking that I shall never forget your voice.
Most of my Daddy memories, I fold tender inside my joy caddy.
Some fears still taunt, haunt me about losing past shared times of clarity,
While precious, Dad-vivid recall remains my heart’s held, treasured rarity.
It saddens me that our forty-two years were ended by fate's own choice.
As this sadness hits now, my tears fresh-fall hopes for remembrance charity
For I still develop needs for you, my wondrous and devoted Daddy.
three ducks paddling
300 yards, dogleg left
……..no short game
a feral cat
digging in the sand trap
……..replacing divots
an old dog
lays on the first tee
………..licking his balls
the golf ball smiled
the golfer slammed his club
……the caddy smiled back
he addressed the ball
not knowing where it would go
……no return address
a blind approach shot
swinging from the hips
………a gaggle of geese
the nineteenth hole
burgers, fries, beers and BS
………lies about lies
John G. Lawless
©2/20/2022
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
His spine curves right, then left
one shoulder lower than another
A hitch and a wobble in his gait
couple shots of whiskey tempt fate
A caddy, he calls himself a ‘pro jock’
follows the sun to work year-round
Wows the young jocks with mythical tales of the (PGA) tour
~ though his liver will rot before long, that’s for sure
_______________________________________
A 'caddy' carries a heavy bag (or two!) of golf
clubs (usually) on one shoulder, traversing a
golf course of four or more miles.
PGA = Professional Golfers Association
“Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate", most frequently translated as "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here". A. Dante, 14th century Italian poet
They sway the power over mere mortals
They drop the words that cannot be appealed
Gods of carjacks are deities, immortals
The voodoo magic over vehicles they wield
Their world is full of strange sounds
“Alignment, ratchet, dolly and exhaust
Lift, mallet, drip-pan” terms are out-of-bounds
To lowly humans who will surely be lost
It’s torque, rotation, caddy, pliers, wrenches
Inspection sticker, undercarriage rust
The noisy drilling on the workshop benches
And wailing, “Fix my car at once or bust!”
Compressor hiss and cannonade of hammer
Struts, piston rings and diagnostic code
The mystery of sensor change glamour
Oh, deftly moves, returning auto to the road
It’s coolant check, brake fluid, fuses, coils
Spark plugs replacement, tire pressure gauge
They know of summer vs winter oils
And best brake pads, domain of the sage
Cars pulled apart, they look so weak and tender
Like bugs without wings that cannot fly
Await repair of the fender-bender
We’ve all been there and can testify
Patched tires, shock absorbers, sockets
The wiper blades, the funnels and headlights
Big bucks repair our hitting pockets
But while here we have very little rights
Male shadows standing here and there
They look askance, the humbled, quiet bunch
As if infer the process of repair
With facial expressions of a hunch
And while surgery performed, there’s hope abound
For chariots of fire, as before
When gods of auto centers, homebound
Us send at once, by fixing what was sore
January 12, 2025
I climb in Suzanne,
She ain't no hippy van,
She's rusty and forgotten
Her soul is slightly rotten
But I believe she's grand.
I turn the key and roar her
Then I beg her like a schnorrer
Won't you let me live inside you
If not own you then to ride you
With life becoming more.
They tell me you're a clunker
And a worn out useless junker
I want you fixed and waxed
With my refund income tax
And life will be so good.
Sleeping in the back
Of my rusty Cadillac
She promises me a meal
in Gorst's finest diner
And a ride o'er the sea
to a place she loves in China
And that's the way to feel.
But I died asphyxiated
From this life liberated
When Suzanne turned herself on
Ran exhaust until the air's gone
And I smiled in my sleep
Eternal and so deep
For only Death is real.