The Fourth Putt
Stubborn ball, doesn’t like dark places
Then there’s greens with fast paces
An elephant buried here
A mark from idiot before us there
A mountain slopes that way
Grain grows to the Sun’s end of day
What a dumb game
But we play it all the same
Get a ball into a hole so small
Using my talent to make it fall
Or rather how-a-about a gimme? I’d ask
For my fourth putt appears a difficult task
Surely, you’d see a grown man cry
If I had to make a fifth putt try
Well, that was obviously inspired by my 4-putt yesterday. Good poem nonetheless!
Hope you use this poem as a forward for your new book!
So true I thought I was the only one
That it happen to
Be careful lining up that Fourth Putt
Haha. Your best work. Who hasn’t been there? Me more than you! Too funny.