A Day at the RangeA Poem by HoneypotI love playing golf. I also despise it. This is a poem about the love/hate relationship I have with the game.
Birds chirp in the distance.
A breeze gently blows
As I adjust my grip.
Woosh-TING
A ball rifles past.
The man beside me
Shields his brow as it sails.
I watch as it lands.
Awestruck at the distance
Amazed it went so straight.
Woosh-TING
Another ball flies,
Hit with a perfect swing.
Stunned I watch it soar.
With a prayer and a wish
I whisper below,
“Please, just like his went.”
My fingers tighten
Around the firm shaft
Caressing the grip.
Smoothly it swings back.
Eyes on the dimples
My club thrusts forward.
THUNK
…Man, I hate golf.
© 2009 HoneypotFeatured Review
Reviews
|
Stats
397 Views
14 Reviews Added on April 13, 2009 |

Flag Writing