If there's a golf course in heaven, I hope it's like Augusta National. I just don't want an early tee time.
quote by Gary Player
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Golf Tees Lament
Golf tees on my dresser
Golf tees in my bed
Golf tees on my pillows
Where they poke me in my head
Golf tees in my closet
Falling from my shirts and pants
Golf tees along the baseboards
Just like army ants
Golf tees in the carpet
And underneath my feet
Golf tees lined up on the mantle
Oh, they look so neat
Golf tees in my couch
And in my back and thighs
When I sit and watch TV
I feel those little guys
Golf tees in the kitchen
In Jurassic coffee mugs
Sometimes when I pass them
They look like prehistoric bugs.
Golf tees in the bathtub
Like sailors on plastic ships
Golf tee in her make-up
Like little bald q-tips.
Golf tees in the attic
Golf tees in the shed
Golf tees, golf tees everywhere
I wonder where they bred?
Golf tees out the backdoor
Like Hansel-and-Gretel’s trails
Golf tees in the flowerbeds
Among the mulch and snails
Golf tees in my car
And underneath the mats
Golf tees in the backseat
Like little baseball bats
But when I am at the golf course
I ask my partner, like a louse…
“May I borrow some of your tees? ”
I left mine at the house!
poem by Larry Buddin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The majority of people who buy homes in golf course communities don't play golf. Golf is way down at the bottom in terms of total numbers and growth.
quote by Ed McMahon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hope is a part of Life
Hope is for happiness to an ending
Hope is nothing if you don't beleive
Hope is a shooting star if you see one
Something can never end so, Hope is a part of Life
Hope is delicate from heaven to hell
Hope can't always help the gods
Hope shoudn't be about exciestence
Sometime when you're giving up on something, Hope is a part of Life
Hope can be an empty trail
Hope isn't for punishment or love
Hope is not a welcome guest
When is it that I saw you last time?
is it when we saw Hope is a part of Life
Hope can never be changed
What else that can be hope?
Hope is a passion
Hope can't always save you
Hope is something in Life that doesn't always happen everyday......
poem by Vanessa Sleeth
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Early Morning
my mind was thrown to wonder
why early morning chilling
not much of sane men would
wait patiently at closed gate
to open so we can play golf
even caretaker thought same
was it great alibi to go away
from mama before she regain
from her real self and be nice
i don't know, we hurry back
feeling contented to norm
to do it again on weekend
some can only play half
and hurry back to home
love those wives who come
to clubhouse for breakfast
leave for four hours; back
on time, pick their husband
whatever you do on weekends
early mornings away from home?
hope it's helping relationship
you could go fishing, hunting,
running, playing tennis...etc
god bless you and stay healthy
poem by Manonton Dalan
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Heaven Help Me
If you want it you can have it
Thats what you said
But I dont want the things that you leave behind
Take the pictures, take the windows and the walls
But baby wont you leave me my peace of mind
Oh such a waste of time
Oh such a waste
I still want you baby
Heaven help me heaven help me
Talk to strangers talk to strangers
Heaven help me
Over you
Help me over you
I cant seem to take these changes
Everything reminds my heart of you
Thought the first time was the last time
Of being apart
Now I find Im having to search again
Itll happen
Its gotta happen
Come together
I just wish somebody would tell me when
Oh such a waste of time
Oh such a waste
I still want you baby
(chorus)
Heaven help heaven help
Heaven, heaven heaven help me
Heaven help heaven help
Heaven, heaven heaven help me
(repeat chorus twice)
Heaven help heaven help
Heaven, heaven heaven help me
Heaven help heaven help
Heaven, heaven heaven help me
Heaven help heaven help
Heaven, heaven heaven help me
Heaven help heaven help
Heaven, heaven heaven help me
Youre someone elses lady
So sad without you darlin
The gods of love cant help me now
Heaven help heaven help
Heaven, heaven heaven help me
song performed by by George Michael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The First Spring Day
THE sunshine died long ago,
Stifled out long ago,
And the waste of the world was grey,
And night was the best to know,
For night was to doze and forget the day,
To be warm and forgetting and still,
And need not the sun and know not the chill:
But oh, for the day that was darkened so!
Why gaze on a barren heaven,
Void and unchanging heaven,
On a barren earth in the grime,
And not a poor blossom given,
No thing that was thinking of sunshine time,
For a promise, a praise of the past?
And so one forgot the sunshine at last;
And sleep could avail, but what to have striven?
The sunshine wakes once anew,
Wakes and is born anew,
And the Age of the earth grows young,
And heaven has its youth for hue,
And hope is the tune of the spring-bird's tongue,
And the leaves in their prisons all hark,
And blossoms will know there is end of the dark:
One hour of the sun, and the spring-time grew!
The sunshine new on the earth,
Heaven to brighten the earth,
And the deathful dimness gone by,
The barren and winter dearth!
And to-day is the best till the next is nigh,
And to-night is to-morrow begun,
To-morrow, when blossoms remember the sun!
Dead hopes, are ye born with the blossoms birth?
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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For A Round Of Golf
For leisure the game that so many do play
For a round of golf 'tis a beautiful day
By the wide slow flowing river that crawls to the sea
Men and women practice their strokes before their evening tea.
As a boy I believed hobby golfers had easy jobs
And that those who enjoyed golf were well to do snobs
But such antiquated thinking not relevant today
As all kinds of classes the game of golf play.
A beautiful day for a beautiful game
For most hobby golfers with no aspirations to fame
After work they go to the golf course in the evening sun
And play the eighteen holes for the sake of fun.
Of the praises of golf everybody doesn't sing
But for the participants a game without physical contact can be such a fun thing
In the golf course by the river that to the sea crawl
The crack of the iron on the stone hard golf ball.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Women At Augusta National & The Masters
This is the Super Bowl of golf, yes; "The Masters" is taking place,
And this week a million women will have a rearranging of their face,
Husbands, boyfriends, johns, black eyes, broken nose, busted lips,
Main concern at Augusta National, will a female get a membership?
Priorities are pushed aside or were they ever there in the first place?
Focus on golf as women by untold millions are abused is a disgrace,
Rory, Hunter, the top players in the world, the likes of Tiger & Phil,
Drugged & knocked up in a back ally, there's the morning after pill.
Most women still do not get equal pay along with plenty of disrespect,
Rule of thumb for sponsorship to IBM because they write the check,
Whomever the CEO, a membership at this prestigious golfing venue,
Yet the current boss is Ms. Virginia M. Rometty so, something new?
Announcements about everything from sand traps to the wet greens,
And still no word from this exclusive private club what does it mean?
After all, the men who belong were they not brought about via birth?
Come on ladies, if these guys don't want you, what is it really worth?
Don't many clubs and organizations have women only members too?
Look back in history and all the mistreatment gals had to go through?
Why should 2012 be any different or any other year for that matter?
Are there not many more important issues than golf for idle chatter?
Well, if IBM pulls out it's like drug dealers, another is ready to step in,
Okay, try not to get in a huff all because of selfish, childish grown men,
Being raised by mothers who obviously didn't teach them sisterly love,
Neither can women don a MLB uniform, swing a bat & wear a glove.
Never stopped Hillary, Michele, Sarah, Gabby, there are many more,
No woman alive can effectively bust down every discriminatory door,
Haven't women played on the guy's tour but men never on the LPGA?
Simply the old adage, "boys will be boys" there's nothing more to say.
poem by Luke Easter
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Closer To Heaven
Never been closer to heaven
Never been further away
Never been closer to heaven
Never been further away
Give me hope
Give me all your love
Tell me now
Youre coming home tonight
Have some faith
In the love we share
Is it fate
Does darkness end in light
Never been closer to heaven
Never been further away
Never been closer to heaven
Never been further away
Whered you go
Did you loose your way
Tell me now youre coming back to stay
In my hopes
Paradise is real
Horoscopes
Cant forecast how well feel
Never been closer to heaven
Never been further away
Never been closer to heaven
Never been further away
Give me hope
Give me hope
Never been closer to heaven
Never been further away
Never been closer to heaven
Never been further away
Give me hope
Give me hope
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eisenhower
We are all creatures of the age into
which we were born.
Eisenhower let millions of Russians
die fighting the Nazis in 1942 and 1943.
He ordered cats shot on the White House
grounds.
He for many years patronized the segregating
sands of the Augusta George country club
which hosts the golf masters' tournament.
And yet if he were born in the last 18 years,
he probably would be involved in no violence.
poem by O. Anna Niemus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I enjoy Augusta. I enjoy its challenges. There's no other golf course like this anywhere. Its greens and its challenges on and around the greens are just super, super tough. So the greens are fun to play in sort of a morbid way.
quote by Ben Crenshaw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scratch Off Heaven
The discarded scratch offs
Told of another chance at heaven lost.
One thought - perhaps they were purchased
By a commercial realty tycoon -
This is the way it should work
Those having wealth gaining their 'more.'
No, the tycoon will be on the golf links
Or perhaps even in church seeking his heaven.
Six dollars in scratch offs helping to guarantee
The tycoon will stay rich and buttresing my Mother's wisdom
Heaven is won one hard step forward at a time.
poem by Bill Grace
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Were There Hope
I was never in a league of noble gentlemen
To whom she'd cast polite and flitting smiles,
Only distant hope and dying dreams for me!
Or perhaps descent into a game of wiles
To give a chance of sipping wine on heady nights
With her angelic presence to declare;
Above, an aura playing out hypnotic hues,
And I in awe of blonde cascades of hair.
But no! my tiring soul is sinking in a mire
To haunt me for an age and evermore, for
How could I expect to hold her silken hand
When I am but a soulless ghost of yore?
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope, hope?
Hope?
Never
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Rainy Day In Early June
The gray sky clouded over the rain is drizzling down
And the golf course is deserted by the river near the town
An early June day in early Winter in the Southern Hemisphere
The sun in the rain clouds hidden it is that time of year
From once you hear him singing his voice with you remain
The magpie he is piping in defiance of the rain
The gray and brown red wattlebird with a hoarseness in his cry
Is calling on a flowering gum that drips of rain nearby
To the vast expanse of dark water that crawls slowly to the sea
And in the calm dampness of the drizzling rain come the song of the pee wee
On this rainy day in early Winter it seems a long way from the Spring
When most of Nature's wildborn birds will build their nests and chirp and sing.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Imagine Heaven
I imagine Heaven
as a wonderful, happy place.
Where joy and contentment,
brings a smile to every face.
I imagine no temptation.
A place where there's no sin.
I imagine eating Twinkies
all day long and staying thin.
I imagine Heaven
being without guns or wars.
A place with no such things
as locks upon our doors.
When I imagine Heaven
I imagine lots of fun.
I imagine every golf shot
will be a hole in one.
I imagine Heaven as a place
where dreams come true.
Heaven is, in my mind,
Eternity with you.
poem by Ron Tranmer
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National Front Disco (live)
David, the wind blows,
The wind blows
Bits of your life away.
Your friends all say,
"Where is our boy?
Ah, we've lost our boy".
But they should know,
Where you've gone,
Because again and again you've explained
That you're going to . . .
Oh, oh, oh, going to . . .
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
"England for the English",
"England for the English".
David, the wind's blown,
The wind's blown
All of my dreams away.
And I still say,
"Where is our boy?
Ah, we've lost our boy".
But I should know
Why you've gone,
Because again and again you've explained
You're going to the National . . .
Ah, to the National . . .
There's a country,
You don't live there,
But one day you would like to.
And if you show them what you're made of,
Ah, then you might do.
But David, we wonder,
We wonder if the thunder
Is ever really gonna begin,
Begin, begin
Your mum says,
"I've lost my boy".
But she should know
Why you've gone,
Because again and again you've explained
You're going to the National,
To the National,
To the National Front disco,
Because you want the day to come sooner,
You want the day to come sooner,
You want the day to come sooner,
When you've settled the score.
Oh, the National,
Oh, the National,
Oh, the National,
Oh, the National,
Oh, the National
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I can't wait to be that age and hanging out with a bunch of people hanging out all day playing golf and going to the beach, all my own age. We'd be laughing and having a good time and getting loopy on our prescription drugs. Driving golf carts around. I can't wait.
quote by Cameron Diaz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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050211A diverted attention
clouds sap my energy
looking trying to comfort
fleeting voices in sky
i should visit my pillow
early to re-arrange
these feathers mulching
i end up watching bulls
manhandled by hawks
where is mike, yes mike
he is playing golf now
people change with time
you might be left behind
poem by Manonton Dalan
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Early In The Morning
Early in the morning and I cant get right
Had a little date with my baby last night
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Now its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to all the places where we used to go
Went to your house but you dont live there no more
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to your friends house but she was out
Knock on your fathers door and he began to shout get out there boy
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to doogie chain to get something to eat
Waiter looked at me and said you sure look beat
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Birdie on the Seventh Hole, Shoot like a Pro
John Henry (Tripp) Isenhour III is a real jerk,
He was at the Grand Cypress Golf course,
Where he had been taping a television when there was a sound,
Not a “Fore”,
not car,
not a cow
or a horse,
Tripp was furious,
-no, not Linda Tripp,
he had to silence the source.
It was a red-shouldered hawk got Tripp upset when he had to do another take.
Tripp waited and waited for right shot to silence the squawking bird.
Tripp drove the golf ball 75 yards to the birdie.
The hawk was silent; the golf ball struck its mark,
The blood from the bird’s nostrils did not make the killing fake.
Usually birds are killed with baseballs or M1 Abrams Tanks,
(see Observation Farewell to Feathers) ,
But this was feat that was terrible for the red shouldered hawk,
and later Tripp,
Because the hawk is a protected species.
Tripp was arrested and faces 2 years and $1,500 in fines,
I hope he is found guilty and gets the maximum sentence.
Enough time for him to finish his subject on Man’s Endangerment t to Wildlife thesis.
(3-7-2008)
poem by Joe Rosochacki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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