Your golf playing postmaster father was your god
Your golf playing postmaster father
was your god
(and to you there was no other)
who couldn’t see anything wrong
with the actions of his friends
that wanted to play
sexual games with you
and his wife
who slept around
with whom ever she could.
You sat next to him
at the front door
of the old house in Barberton
with the red polished stairs
while he smoked his pipe
with BB-tobacco
and although you hated smoking
inhaled every vapour
coming from him
as if it would put you
in a godly ordained séance
or maybe a trance.
Each thing that he said,
each thing that he did
to you was holy and right,
even if it lacked justice
and you made a mere man
equal to the Almighty One.
No other man could for you
fit in his shoes
and I tried to live
in a totally different way
and when he died
from a heart attack
on the golf course,
you only saw dread,
for your God was dead
and tried to join him
by taking sleeping pills
and was really angry
for me rushing you to hospital
as if I had got in the way
of your atonement.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
My ex-mother in law
My ex-mother in law
was an unusual person
that could wish others
into death
and when my ex-wife’s
first husband died from cancer
she believed
that the Lord God
answered her prayer
and for me
she also prayed a thousand times
that same prayer
and fasted
and put tears with it
although I didn’t really
deserve it,
but here I am still
and it’s another story.
Her husband
falls down on the golf course
and is dead from a heart attack
and he hits his last ball
away into the bushes
without any control.
At the funeral
I had to help carry the coffin,
wash dishes
and what ever
my mother in law asked.
Father in law
had a small black dog
that went everywhere with him
and smoked pipe
like Van Donck
cannot stoke up on table mountain
and the dog
then also had to die
although it was great in health
and could still live for years.
I had to take mother in law
to the vet
as she couldn’t drive a car
and hold the animal
while he got
a last injection
and dig a grave
in the garden
and put him there.
l’Envoi
Now I wonder
what goes into such a person
that after her husband’s death,
she is finished
with every thing of his
and married
in months again
with somebody
to keep her company?
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Bob Justice
Bob Justice was an old pipe smoking fellow
And outside his shop on Main Street Millstreet Town
He and his sister May often sat talking
Whilst he greeted people passing up and down.
He became well known through his business and bakery
And as a man who owned and raced greyhounds
And it's been said that Bob enjoyed a gamble
And he often bet up to one hundred pounds.
He must have smoked a lot of pipe tobacco
As much as anyone for miles about
And perhaps more than anybody else in Millstreet
For his pipe was seldom distant from his mouth.
His wife from Cockhill and they had two daughters
And one of them Geraldine owns the shop today
And though it's been years since Bob Justice was living
On looking back it only seems yesterday.
If there's a Heaven there you'll find Bob Justice
Smoking his pipe distant from Millstreet Town
And in the cool shade sitting in the sunshine
And greeting people passing up and down.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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a free vacation in China
while you enlist the soldiers
train them and prepare them
for war
on a supposedly consensus
a decision
to kill terrorism
she was in China
with the First Gentleman
playing golf
and taking pictures
in front of the
Great Wall
with her friends
and some grandchildren
then they had the lauriat
and the ballroom
and then they were
laughing
on the recent jokes
about a soldier
henpecked by
his wife
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ruwatan of My Mother
My grandma had planned ‘ruwatan’ a long time ago
In front of her house
They build a stage for playing a pupit shadow play
From day to night
Where neighbour, friend, and visitor from random ranking came
I run anywhere, nobody care about me
Where all people busy with their duties
Only one focusing to prepare meal for prayed together
To the God for saving my mother from the angry of Batara Kala
Ruwatan ceremony
In the stage in front of my grandma house
Dalang, play the pupit shadow
Where the Batara Kala still angry
To all people just play play along the time
They do not work hard and pray together to the God
To avoid the God Angry
My grandma present the pupit shador for along the day to night
With the religious meal from various fruits, animal
Dalang lead pray together
While he play the pupit shadows
As long as harmony with the ruwatan story
Ovoid the God (Batara Kala) not to become angry
To punish my mother and her big family
Her only my grandma doughter
From her complicated sins
But I saw at the end of my mother life
She laid in the hospital bedroom for a month
With mny pipe to help her respiration
And for eat her foods
But my mother know
She does’t like to die there
At the end of her time, batara Kala pick up her soul
In her friends house
In Yogyakarta
When member of the family
She sound-asleep forever
Alone to the promise of land
Her only message to the youngest son
To choice his wife from a good parents
To be carefull be a good heart
August 05 - 2005
poem by Prasetya Utama
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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Panic Attack
Pressure building in my head, moving down to my heart and stomach as I crash onto my bed.
I'm panicking feeling like I'm almost dead. The doctors tell me it's in my head and because I haven't gotten fed.
What's going on with me. I let all the pressures get to me. The anxieties all creep up on me.
So let me free fall away from everything, letting go, I need to be free.
I'm a grown man, but I'm cowering on the floor. These dark shadows playing games with my mind.
I'm rushing to the hospital, but they are telling me everything is fine. Pop some pills I think they are called Lorazepam, and my body is already their biggest fan.
Nerves relaxing now, heart is slowing, mind is focusing, I can breathe again.
It's my first big panic attack, didn't know the power these had, hope I can check it before it begins again.
poem by Midnight Writer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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IT's THE GOLF BALL OR ME
TIGER TIGER IN THE WOODS
Hit the ball as U should
Ere the Golf Stick skidded
And U in the Woods ended
Tiger Tiger your fame spread far and wide
Many a wallop in joy you with your family cried
Alas your 'misses' your family dread
And many a tear dropp you dead
Tiger Tiger in the Woods the time has come
When Your Wife has given you ultimatum
It's either me or GOLF you choose
And mend your ways or both your loose
'On my terms' if U want the kids and me
Coz I love you so much honey
I am not to touch the GOLF BALL
NOT for LOVE or for MONEY....
TIGER TIGER IN THE WOODS.
poem by Intensive KS1
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I had a cat and my lovely cat was ill
I had a cat and my lovely cat was ill
It was admitted in hospital for treatment,
Previous day it fought with a cobra to kill,
The cobra suddenly escaped to save but died,
It moves around my house to kill the snakes,
And it is just like a tiger and guards my house,
My children always play with it and feed it cakes,
Alas! why is it not recovered but died?
Dead body of my cat is put on sofa and all wept,
Why, pretty thing! could you not live with us all?
One by one all kissed it and sadly said it has slept,
If it is not seen at home tiger, tiger we used to call,
Alas1 with a bur-i-al ceremony in a grave it is kept,
All wept and wept and said, what a sweet fall!
poem by INDIA Mazid S Kazi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Win Another One
People play games to win, not for fun
Otherwise, it’s meaningless
In competitive games like basketball or golf
To win is the primary purpose
While to have fun or make friends is at most the second
Because people need to win to establish confidence and conquer others
It’s victory that excites us, not failure
It’s victory that makes our names familiar to others, not failure
It’s victory that makes us want to play again
It’s victory that tells us not to give up
Not only the human beings
Animals either fight to win and to kill or to be killed
They have no second chance
They have to fight till death
To win or to lose
Is a choice we are facing everyday
Golf masters are having fun all the time
Because they won many tournaments and they are champions
So let’s win another one
And win them all
poem by Michael Guo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I play golf with friends sometimes, but there are never friendly games.
No Thugs In Our House
Cast of characters
Graham, a teenager
Mother, a busy housewife
Father, a conservative husband
Policeman, a young constable
Scene: a kitchen in suburbia, one bright saturday morning
Act one
Narrator: the insect-headed worker-wife will hang her waspies on the
Line. her husband burns his paper, sucks his pipe while studying
Their cushion-floor, his viscous poly-paste breath comes out. their
Wall-paper world is shattered by his shout. a boy in blue is busy
Banging out a headache on the kitchen door. all the while graham
Slept on, dreaming of a world where he could do just what he wanted
To.
Mother and father (in unison): no thugs in our house, are there dear?
We made that clear, we made little graham promise us he'd be a good
Boy. no thugs in our house, are there dear? we made that clear, we
Made little graham promise us he'd be a good boy.
Act two
Narrator: the young policeman who just can't grow a moustache will
Open up his book, and spoil their breakfast with reports of asians who
Have been so badly kicked.
Policeman: is this your son's wallet i've got here? he must have
Dropped it after too much beer!
Mother: oh, officer, we can't believe our little angel is the one
You've picked.
Narrator: and all the while graham slept on, dreaming of a world
Where he could do just what he wanted to.
Mother and father (in unison): no thugs in our house, are there dear?
We made that clear, we made little graham promise us he'd be a good
Boy. no thugs in our house, are there dear? we made that clear, we
Made little graham promise us he'd be a good boy.
Narrator: they never read those pamphlets in his bottom drawer.
Policeman: they never read that tattoo on his arm.
Narrator: they thought that was just a boys club badge he wore.
Policeman: they never thought he'd do folks any harm.
Act three
Narrator: the insect-headed worker-wife will hang her waspies on the
Line. she's singing something stale and simple now this business has
Fizzled out. her little tune is such a happy song. her son is
Innocent, he can't do wrong, 'cos dad's a judge and knows exactly what
The job of judging's all about. and all the while graham slept on,
Dreaming of a world where he could do just what he wanted to.
Mother and father (in unison): no thugs in our house, are there dear?
We made that clear, we made little graham promise us he'd be a good
Boy. no thugs in our house, are there dear? we made that clear, we
Made little graham promise us he'd be a good boy.
Mother: no thugs in our house!
Father: no thugs in our house!
Complete cast (in unison): no thugs in our house, dear!
Set design by andy partridge with co-ordination by ken ansell.
Stage and scenery by art dragon
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Thugs In Our House
Cast of characters
Graham, a teenager
Mother, a busy housewife
Father, a conservative husband
Policeman, a young constable
Scene: a kitchen in suburbia, one bright saturday morning
Act one
Narrator: the insect-headed worker-wife will hang her waspies on the
Line. her husband burns his paper, sucks his pipe while studying
Their cushion-floor, his viscous poly-paste breath comes out. their
Wall-paper world is shattered by his shout. a boy in blue is busy
Banging out a headache on the kitchen door. all the while graham
Slept on, dreaming of a world where he could do just what he wanted
To.
Mother and father (in unison): no thugs in our house, are there dear?
We made that clear, we made little graham promise us he'd be a good
Boy. no thugs in our house, are there dear? we made that clear, we
Made little graham promise us he'd be a good boy.
Act two
Narrator: the young policeman who just can't grow a moustache will
Open up his book, and spoil their breakfast with reports of asians who
Have been so badly kicked.
Policeman: is this your son's wallet i've got here? he must have
Dropped it after too much beer!
Mother: oh, officer, we can't believe our little angel is the one
You've picked.
Narrator: and all the while graham slept on, dreaming of a world
Where he could do just what he wanted to.
Mother and father (in unison): no thugs in our house, are there dear?
We made that clear, we made little graham promise us he'd be a good
Boy. no thugs in our house, are there dear? we made that clear, we
Made little graham promise us he'd be a good boy.
Narrator: they never read those pamphlets in his bottom drawer.
Policeman: they never read that tattoo on his arm.
Narrator: they thought that was just a boys club badge he wore.
Policeman: they never thought he'd do folks any harm.
Act three
Narrator: the insect-headed worker-wife will hang her waspies on the
Line. she's singing something stale and simple now this business has
Fizzled out. her little tune is such a happy song. her son is
Innocent, he can't do wrong, 'cos dad's a judge and knows exactly what
The job of judging's all about. and all the while graham slept on,
Dreaming of a world where he could do just what he wanted to.
Mother and father (in unison): no thugs in our house, are there dear?
We made that clear, we made little graham promise us he'd be a good
Boy. no thugs in our house, are there dear? we made that clear, we
Made little graham promise us he'd be a good boy.
Mother: no thugs in our house!
Father: no thugs in our house!
Complete cast (in unison): no thugs in our house, dear!
Set design by andy partridge with co-ordination by ken ansell.
Stage and scenery by art dragon
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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U R Wrong
u were wrong... so wrong.. uh uh uh huh uh.
u were wrong dead wrong.. uh uh uh whoaaaaaaa
Girl U R said your wrong wrong said your wrong wrong
Girl U R said your wrong wrong said your wrong wrong
verse1: can i take you back to happy times..
oh oh oh uh oh
everyday was paradise.. dinner and candle lights
oh oh oh uh oh
i never thought you'd change i didn't expect no games
i wanted you to bare my child i wanted you to have my last name
now we was right we was wrong
i really don't care cuz i gotta move one
i'm gone be a man about it
the headache i can live without it
chorus: Girl (you act so shady) U (spend all of my paper R ( one heck of a lady) said ur wrong wrong said ur wrong wrong
Girl ( i don't codone it ) U ( and you can't erase it) R (one heck of a lady) said ur wrong wrong said your wrong wrong
Girl ( u tired to play) U (had a house and a baby) R ( one heck of a lady) said ur wrong wrong said ur wrong wrong
Girl ( u were wrong ) u( so wrong ) R (dead wrong said your wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong.
verse2: now i admit sometime i make mistakes..
oh oh oh mmmhmmmm
the responsibility of this household was your to take
"well"
i gave you the keys to the range.. broke you off a lil bit of change
ain't no need to explain.. your gonna miss a good thang
and when it's gone away i ain't got time to play
women you had a chance a chance to stay baby baby
chorus: Girl (you act so shady) U (spend all of my paper R ( one heck of a lady) said ur wrong wrong said ur wrong wrong
Girl ( i don't codone it ) U ( and you can't erase it) R (one heck of a lady) said ur wrong wrong said your wrong wrong
Girl ( u tired to play) U (had a house and a baby) R ( one heck of a lady) said ur wrong wrong said ur wrong wrong
Girl ( u were wrong ) u( so wrong ) R (dead wrong said your wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong.
i picked you up when you were down( when your luck ran out.. baby yes i did)
i took you in when theyput you out ( do you remember that cold monday morning?)
i treated you kids like they was mine( i ain't even they real damn daddynononnono )
when you were dim i made you shine( i was the diamond in your life baby)
chorus: Girl ( girl) u (u) R ( are) wrong wrong wrong wrong
Girl ( girl) u (u) R ( are) wrong wrong wrong wrong
Girl ( girl) u (u) R ( are) wrong wrong wrong wrong
Girl ( girl) u (u) R ( are) wrong wrong wrong wrong
can i break it down fora mineut baby
tell you.. why your wrong
you were wrong staying out all night
coming in sloppy drunk baby
and you were wrong for letting your friend direct your mind
and you were wrong for running up my credit card
and you were wrong for everything you've done to me.
(chorus)
ain't no explination this time.
song performed by by 3pc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Prayer To Share By Alfred Loveland
This is poem for all those we love
with a little help from him above
We do tend to take love ones for granted most of the time
And mostly only ask for help when things go wrong
Well now I am asking for all of your prayers
For David who I am sure is not ready to go up those stairs
Today he has a life threatening operation
This is why I am asking for yours and Gods co-operation
Its true we tend to ask only when the chips are down
I am sure God understands and will not frown
After all we are humans and make lots of mistakes
But please make him well no matter how long it takes
David married my Sister Joan and is a really nice chap
Always happy never moans and full of life
Well now please God let him stay with his wife
He played golf and was fit until he took bad
on the plane back from seeing us here in UK
Two heart attacks which he never even new about
And a third as they Landed in New Zealand
Thank God the medic's were at hand
and were waiting for them as the plane
touched the ground.
My plea is from my heart and very sincere
I am asking you all to pass my prayer around
The sequal to this poem is David is now fit & well and almost back to normal and once more playing Golf
poem by Alfred Loveland
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I was out on the golf course, a guy came riding out in a golf cart and said, Did you know that Elvis died? And I just said, Well, there you go. It was like I had kinda been expecting it.
I met my wife through playing golf. She is French and couldn't speak English and I couldn't speak French, so there was little chance of us getting involved in any boring conversations - that's why we got married really quickly.
quote by Sean Connery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(Murder Poem) Shades Of Black
No empathy, no remorse, no recourse in my actions.
All I see is things in shades of black.
I was abandon as a child.
I'm alone as a man.
The goodness of the damned.
Oh how I wish I had a plan.
Something set in stone.
With many regrets I walk this life feeling like a reject.
A failure all on my own.
I don't need no help from you never did.
No empathy, no remorse, no recourse in my actions.
All I see is things in shades of black.
Their is poison in the water.
Their is treachery afoot.
Oh Oh just come look.
The blood has been spilt and they have no clue I did it you.
I don't even care if they did.
I'll take as many I can.
When everything has gone so wrong.
Sitting staring out the window with a revolver in you in hand.
What choices are left?
No empathy, no remorse, no recourse in my actions.
All I see is things in shades of black.
A nightmare of solutions unfold.
Each bloody as the next.
How can you ever truly live with it.
Settling for only second best.
The black knight ego's of arrogance.
Tunnel vision fills his eyes.
All he's after is the prize.
I doesn't matter who gets hurt on his way to it.
With deliverance I give you pain.
A message from someone who truly insane.
No empathy, no remorse, no recourse in my actions.
All I see is things in shades of black.
No empathy, no remorse, no recourse in my actions.
All I see is things in shades of black.
No empathy, no remorse, no recourse in my actions.
All I see is things in shades of black.
And it is time for my greatest attack.
As if anyone should be proud of such a thing.
The sweat pours off my brow as I become the butcher of butchers.
A dissection of a living to dead body.
Someone help this man, oh please anybody.
The urges to kill won't stop.
They are all hes got.
Taking out all his sexual frustrations.
These escalation will only continue.
They will not just die.
Or move on to a paradise behind the next dawn.
No matter how hard I try.
No empathy, no remorse, no recourse in my actions.
All I see is things in shades of black.
No empathy, no remorse, no recourse in my actions.
All I see is things in shades of black.
No empathy, no remorse, no recourse in my actions.
All I see is things in shades of black.
I feel nothing no more.
I don't know why.
I wish I could fix myself tonight.
I wish I could embrace love once again.
But wishes are nothing but useless thoughts.
The futility of the evil creature I am.
Hated by everyone.
So foul have I become.
A disease that can never be done.
Just kill me now.
To save so many.
Promise me, make your vow.
Cause I won't go down quietly.
I fight it for as long I can.
No empathy, no remorse, no recourse in my actions.
All I see is things in shades of black.
No empathy, no remorse, no recourse in my actions.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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My Father's Persistence
Was there rain coming down that day?
I really can't remember.
My mother says it was cold and dreary
on that day in December.
Was I welcomed onto this earth
as I took my first breath in?
My father wanted a boy to raise.
Should I have stayed where I had been?
Gradually he accepted a little girl
and held me on his knee.
He played LP records for hours
and I inhaled the harmony.
My mother says he was obsessed with this
and thought I should be left alone.
But his persistence through my first two years
paid off with each new tone.
By age four I was playing the piano
and my father praised God.
My mother was surprised I guess.
But she thought me rather odd.
My happiest childhood memories
was playing whatever I'd heard.
My father was deliriously happy.
My mother thought it absurd.
Most of my youth went so fast.
Most of it I can't remember,
just like the part about rain coming down
on that cold dreary day in December.
But the thing I remember the most now
was my father's pride and joy
that I was born a girl instead of a baby boy.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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