Long Golf Poems
Long Golf Poems. Below are the most popular long Golf by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Golf poems by poem length and keyword.
better to be back in black
said Brett Boe
Coca-Cola for coy cat
replied Carla Coe
draw the duck down in dew
whispered Donna Doe
fries feed feisty firebugs
claims Frankie Foe
good guys grumble about golf
implies Grant Goe
hairy hilltops hide hat heroes
stated Harry Hoe
jackal junior joined the jazz jam
assured Jackie Joe
kings kneel before koala
declares Karren Koe
lonely lady lies in a lake
spoke Larry Loe
meanwhile muses moan in mud
complained Martha Moe
never nail the night in a nutshell
giggles Norma Noe
pisco for poor pigs in pubs!
shouts Paula Poe
quite quirky for quag queen
blabbed Quincy Qoe
rebel riders rule the roads
stated Ralphie Roe
only silly ships sail south
claimed Sammy Soe
triple taco tripped on telly
said Tammy Toe
violet violins vanish in vain
confirmed Vince Voe
waxy waffles weep on wire
told William Woe
Yeti yells at yummy yaks
asserts Yvonne Yoe
zig zag zone is zipped and zapped
finished Zack Zoe
"Limerick - Syllables 12,12,8,8,12" ~By Poet~
Stevie Wonder.
Blinded after birth by a hospital blunder.
At three he played music with pots and pans.
Self taught piano, at nine he played to young fans.
Stevie Wonder decided to bet Tiger Woods
To play golf at a golf club in their neighborhoods
Tiger, he chose where they would play.
Stevie would choose the time of day.
Stevie chose midnight. He won and went home with the goods.
At 13 he was the youngest solo artist ever to top the charts.
Being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, warmed hearts.
He won a Grammy for "That's What Friends Are For"
Stevie Wonder, an incredible performer has fans galore.
These are interesting times:
hordes of Hitler Youth
are marching out
from our institutes of higher learning,
those who believe that 'all lives matter'
are labeled racists.
We saw none of this coming,
and is that our kid in that zombie mob?
Dad has been busy at the golf course,
mom coaching Little Legue soccer.
We thought it was a good life
the dream
at the heart of the American Dream
not noticing the corrosive rot
being sold as truth,
and now,
and now,
we are all very sick,
even the dog has been brain-washed,
it is behaving like a rabid Nazi,
not a big leap for an Alsatian guard dog.
i’m running a little late
six months ago i read
the average life expectancy was 79.5 years
i thought i had time to
finish a couple of home projects,
find and restore that 65 vw bug
i’ve always wanted,
i could get my affairs in order,
make amends where i should,
maybe look up a few folks
i haven’t seen in a while
do a little traveling, go places
i have never been
and get in a few more rounds of golf
it was a good plan
now i read, due to covid
the life expectancy
is down to 74.75 years
i lost 4.5 years getting
my stuff together
now i have to cut my
list down, re-prioritize
the home projects were
aesthetic, curb appeal
the place looks ok now
i had a bug once and rolled it
don’t need any unnecessary
medical expenses,
once i’m gone, i’m won’t care
if my affairs are in alphabetical
or chronological order
let the “heirs apparent” figure them out,
if i hurt or pissed someone off
my going away (read dying) will
surely appease them
as for looking people up i
haven’t seen in awhile,
if they aged like me, i wouldn’t
recognize them anyway
since i don’t fly, traveling means
what i can see by car
and that would take
a lot of precious time
which leaves only golf
with all that other stuff
out of the way
i can double or more
my playing time
I suppose struggling bards (such as I) are wont to muse
Upon profound or inane topics to propound our views.
So, it occured to me how baffling the English language could be,
To new arrivals to our shores from international potpourri.
Will he ever master the usage of to, two, tutu and too?
Should he order "coal" or "cole" slaw at his favorite rendevous?
Plane could be a woodworking tool or is it that thing in the sky,
Or something plain and simple or a plain of undulating rye?
He tries to sort out the subtleties of yawl and ya'll,
And the nuances of aunt, ant and if that ain't all,
How can he figure out the use of maul, moll and mall?
Is it a golf ball or a formal ball? 'Tis enough to make him bawl!
He must ever ponder if a yard is three feat or three feet,
And is addled about the use of peek, peak and pique.
Is a pupil a kid in class or something to do with the eye?
Buy, bi, by and bye, now what does each of those imply?
His fear is that he'll never get it write or is it rite or right?
He preys (or prays?) for deliverance from his fearful plight.
Momma mia! He's bewildered and just wants to return home,
To that Eternal City in Italy called Rome (or is it Roam?)!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
and me
on a 70 degree,
smiling
Saturday morning
(today)
when only the birds
hornets, bees, and
yellow-tailed butterflies
were busy
doing what they do
in the midst of their own
merry magic.
The squirrels
upset my feeder again
and I was sick and tired
of refilling birdseed outside
and vacuuming up pollen
inside.
I'm sneezing and
irritated, as usual.
I can't tell if that northern
mockingbird
is mocking me or laughing
at my circular frustration
this morning.
A bee is making me dizzy
as he/she zigzags
around the blossoms
of the azalea bush.
I drove my son to golf
with a huff, speeding down
the road in my tired 2007
Toyota Corolla.
I sat outside on the couch
at the golf course
where I didn't have to talk
to anyone or say anything
obvious or pleasant.
Then I found
a special spoonful
of magic.
I read a poem.
I read a poem
that reminded me
why I love poetry,
children's stories,
spring, love, and the power
of imagination.
I was losing hope
and regressing back
to previous thinking:
that only James Berrie,
Roald Daul, Dr. Seuss,
and J.K Rowling
could challenge
gravity, reality,
and the limits
of possibility.
Then, I read
'Rosewood's Snowflakes
and the Secret
of the Whispering Stream'
and I believed again.
No poet, at least to me
is anything without
the inspiration and
appreciation of other poets.
When we stop reading,
we stop having new ideas
and our thoughts become
claustrophobic closing
elevators of descending
thought.
I love to write, yes.
However,
is there anything better
than to read something that
makes your being sing?
Not for me, at least.
Thank you, dear poet.
I am your
appreciative reader,
Jennifer.
Abandoned Yellow Star,
Existential apostle.
Solar flares haunt outworlds, "I'm It, you're not."
Mercury, Mary's star loved from afar.
Hot but not the hottest star.
A tiny lifeless star.
Venus will have more sunlight in her hair.
Acid clouds, corrosive ground.
A great task, you won't last.
Mars, Ray Bradbury's & Poe's summer home.
Famed Martian golf balls canals.
Mountain Mons view Earthsets.
Jupiter planet King.
Juno caught clouds aided by sprites and elves.
It passes gas, no solids.
Saturn, Trump's hide-a-way post Mar-La-Go
Eyes like Godiva's, you'll see.
Ocean moon, life likely.
Uranus ... home planet of many Ex's.
Twenty years long each season.
Tad colder than Neptune.
Neptune ice-cold Hunter.
1300 mph.
One hundred sixty-five years per Biden.
Pluto is a dwarf planet, not full-sized.
Other planets ... still too close.
Latter cause for exile.
CHOP SHOP
The Villages at Carver ate
Four tires and a steering wheel
Their hunger pangs would not abate
So they acquired plans to steal
A screwdriver
And a wrench too
A steel hammer
Golf carts unscrew
The Villages at Carver hide
Its many parts in a chop shop
As golfers exercise their stride
Wiping balled sweat until they drop
On dapper lawn
For evil’s spawned
From dusk to dawn
Behind closed doors
The Villages at Carver search
For splintered wood and tools of trade
Amidst the oak and pine and birch
The hidden door reveals a blade
Village gone mad
Carvers past sad
Pitchforks take stand
Revenge at last
The Villages at Carver mass
Drawing a crowd to view a home
Overlooking manicured grass
A course with four golf wheels and chrome
6/27/2017
Did you slip the noose when the witch broke loose
The Sooner’s Graveyard ain't the place to be
Justice turns it is back and dies of a heart attack
The Sooner’s Graveyard needs the change of scene
Got the money but don’t need the tension
Death is cheaper than an old age pension
There's just one thing that I forgot to mention
What have you got to lose when you know
You are guilty until proven guilty
Isn't that the law
Guilty until you are proven guilty
That's what we saw
Do the thin blue line shuffle with the inbred muscle
Waiting all your life for a golf cart life
You see the judge and then you check the jury
She does her hair and calls the US Attorney cutie
It is Frontier City under martial law
Switch on the TV and tell me what you saw
They were guilty until proven guilty
Guilty until proven guilty
Guilty until proven guilty
Justice isn't blind
It just looks the other way
Not from want of trying
I have nothing left to say
The sky burns bright, under cop car lights
Don't pay duties when your on your own death duty
Came here looking for the peace and quiet
Healthy air and a moral climate
The malls are calm but the street's a riot
Take years off your life when you have none left to give
Yeah you are
Guilty until proven guilty
Guilty until proven guilty
Guilty until proven guilty
Fully grown I am the size of a golf ball,
So, goodness me I am somewhat small,
I am a male and I have a very specific job.
I normally roll elephant dung into a ball,
Sometimes my partner helps me, so with our hind
Legs, we push it to a suitable spot that we find.
Humans find us fascinating for often we roll
Our dung ball on the sandy part of a road,
Some of us naturally are killed by cars,
Who cross the barrier between tar and bush,
And run over us so we become mush!
Meanwhile my dear madame beetle is mostly
Hitching a ride on top of the dung, so yes.
Of course I have to be fit, go to our local gym,
I enjoy watching the ladies’ legs,
Who strengthen them, to help towards each ones’ birth,
Of one egg only, all this for one, not many eggs,
My load is heavy and I have to adjust it at times,
If I swerve, could become history and a sorry mess,
Oh well, every job has its hazards I guess.
Now Mrs beetle is ready to lay her egg,
In the desired spot that the two of us found,
Far enough away from speeding car tires’
But fear this summer heat could bring more bush fires.
We survive on eating dung as elephant dung
Is very nutritious, elephants have a bad digestive system,
So seeds are present within the dung, which blossom
Into trees and plants, so think how essential I am,
In the cycle of nature,
Oops, bye-bye I see a fish eagle, who for me,
Could indicate danger,
And tomorrow,
Hey give me a break guys,
Think I’ll take a break, and holiday in the North
With Santa, and Rudolph the reindeer.