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Richard Lee King

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Maybe Golf's Not My Game
by Richard Lee King → (All Poetry by Richard Lee King)
   Rated "PG" by the Author.
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A humorus and facetious look at my golf game. The game just isn't as much fun as it once was and the worse I get, the more like work it becomes.


Poem Artwork

 

MAYBE GOLF’S NOT MY GAME
 
For nearly an hour,
I putted and chipped.
Now it’s obvious to me,
my game really has slipped.
 
I used to have fun
but now it’s a bore.
I’m scoring five’s & six’s
where I used to score four.
 
Now, I’m pulling most of my irons
and slicing all of my drives.
On most of the par threes,
I’m more likely to score fives.
 
When it comes to par fours
I’m taking six’s & seven’s.
Once, I hit two out of bounds
and wound up with an eleven.
 
I’m slicing so badly
it’s affecting my putts.
I’ve tried so many stances
the guys all think I’m nuts.
 
I haven’t taken any lessons,
but I’ve read all the books.
I can’t cure my slice,
cause sometimes it hooks.
 
This game, if you let it,
will drive you half crazy.
I need lots more practice,
but I’m just too damn lazy.

I’ve started taking a Mulligan
off the first tee.
And, after only one beer
I already have to pee. 

My eyesight’s gone bad,
so I bought new glasses.
Thought of giving the game up,
but the feeling soon passes.
 
From out in the fairway,
those rare times that I’m there,
I can’t see the flag,
but my opponents don’t care.
 
We often play for skins
with bets on the side.
They should offer me strokes,
but it would injure my pride.
 
We’ll play bingo bangle bongo
in a foursome sometimes.
It’s for quarters or dollars,
when it used to be for dimes.
 
It’s a dollar for closest
on all the Parr three’s.
It’s automatic
so, I drop to my knees.
 
Praying won’t help
with a game such as mine,
but there are only 4 Parr three’s,
I’m so lucky there aren’t nine.
 
Sometimes we’ll scramble,
if we have enough players
and the team stuck with me
always says lots of prayers.
 
One of the reasons
I thought of giving up the game,
is I’m running out of excuses
and they’re all sounding so lame.
 
I’ve tried new equipment
and bought the new longer ball,
but the further I hit it,
the grass gets more tall.
 
I’ve tried a glove on each hand
and tried going without.
The worse I miss-hit it,
the more that I pout.
 
I’ve tried the new rescue clubs
and dozens of new putters,
but the harder I try
the more I seem to mutter.
 
I score mostly Bogie’s
cause I can’t chip worth a damn.
And, after most of my putts
I have to putt it again.
 
I might pitch it close
then miss the damn putt.
I’ve been this way all year,
so, I’m not just in a rut.
 
When your short game goes,
the way that mine has gone,
you should head for the beach
and start wearing a thong.
 
But, I’m just not quite ready
to give this all up.
So, I open another beer
and pour it into my cup.
 
I might have the yips,
though I’m not really sure,
but if you don’t know what’s wrong
you just can’t find the cure.
 
Last time I went out,
I had a bad case of the shanks.
They wanted to play nine more,
but I told them, no thanks.
 
Now, I’m so damn worried
it might mess up my game,
that I dreamed last night
I’d made the shanker's hall of fame.
 
Mosquitoes and fire ants,
bruises and bumps.
Water holes and sand traps,
I’ve taken my lumps.
 
But a missed two footer,
or an obvious shank,
makes a man start to wonder
about what’s left in his tank.
 
So, I open another beer,
take out another ball,
practice my stance,
then give it my all.
 
I don’t think about “Birdies”
but with an occasional Parr,
I keep thinking my game
can’t be off all that far.
 
Finally the nineteenth hole
is coming in sight.
Three of four more beers
might be just about right.
 
If you’re a senior citizen,
they discount your greens fee.
It’s the cheapest part of the day,
when you play bad as me.
 
The game is expensive
with equipment and all,
but it’s settling my bets
where I really take the fall.
 
But, as we gather at the bar,
and I settle my bets,
I think to myself
this is as good as it gets.
 
Birdies and Parr’s
most likely are all in my past,
but you can bet I’ll keep swinging
hoping this day won't be my last.

 

 


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 Reviews of "Maybe Golf's Not My Game"
Reviewed on March 21, 2010
YOUAREGOOD!!!!
WRITER I MEAN, wasn't there to see you do a par 3
Golf is not MY SPEED! YOU write of Golf and I write of FISHING, COOKING and so much more...
I must follow your heart and style as I scan here once more...
Do what your passion is, some can have a BAD MONTH or YEAR
but have no fear...
Blessings and Hugs, PurpSHEEoxxo
A definite HOLE-IN-ONE HERE! I THINK... and I find Golf boring... and I know challenging, but their is just so much in hitting a ball here, there and everywhere, and the many would the say: The same in fishing, hours and NOTHING so why, do "we" do the CHALLENGES! Being in Nature! Camaraderie and more...

Reviewed by Donna Chandler
Reviewed on March 19, 2010
Golf's not my game either. You say it very well. This one is as good as a Hole In One.


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