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Fanatical Golfer

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Fanatical Golfer Powered By Docstoc
					Introduction
Hello, my name is Kevin D. Rolle , the author of this ebook, “Ode To The Fanatical Golfer”. And I really want to thank you for your purchase. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! When you’re done, please check out my site at http://www.golf-humor-asylum.com/ (It’s still under construction, as I wanted to get at least a basic site going). Well, I’m sure you hate drawn out introductions as much as I do, so dive in! Wishing you the best of success, Kevin D. Rolle (The Golf Humor Artist) Legal Notice: No part of this ebook may be copied, reproduced or disseminated in any way, shape or form, without the author’s express written consent. (Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. All rights reserved). You may contact the author at kevindrolle@coralwave.com or kvn_rolle@yahoo.com

Love Of The Game
He wanted golf to be experienced by all, And hoped his daughter would heed the call. “C’mon,”he said. “You’ll have a ball!” “Why?,” she asked. “Are we going to the mall?” He’d often take his golf cart to work, And all his co-workers there would smirk. He didn’t know why, and thought, “They’re jerks!” How could they belittle such a PERK? His swing was big and grand, (yet dopey). He cried and cried when he made a bogey. Kids thought, “What’s wrong with that old fogey?!” He thought, “I’m not old……I sport a GOATEE!” He loved his old and tattered golf bag. His caddie thought it was such a drag. But he hated more, ‘golf cart tag’… The golfer played with him when he forgot to move the flag. Forever chasing the elusive par. He’d hit the ball straight and far. In the traps, his ball seemed ‘stuck to tar’, He’d still be there when ‘parking’ had nary a car!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Early Riser
He loved the smell of the fresh cut ‘green’, But to him it proved such a fiend. It’s favor to him, was always lean, Despite it’s beauty, it could be so mean! The point of golf?…To put the ball in the hole. You do that with a ‘curved-end pole.’ But the path, (always guarded by a troll), Or maybe yet, some ‘ticked-off mole’! He was never any good in the traps. In fact his ‘game’, would always ‘flap’! But to others, it seemed to sit on their ‘lap’, While he’s reduced to stomping his cap! He’d read the ‘mags’ to take his golf game higher. He wanted the best ball…best putter…best driver. Often going to his wife to borrow ‘a fiver’, She wouldn’t budge. (No matter how hard he tried to ‘jive her’!) To the links, early morning, he’d often travel. Sometimes pajamas and bathrobe…his only apparel. Unfortunately the knot, would often unravel, After jumping up and down at a lucky roll, he’d marvel!
(Copyright Kevin D. Rolle 2007. All rights reserved.)

Strong Emotions
Here’s an aspect of the game that I find particularly fascinating….. THE STRONG EMOTIONS ASSOCIATED WITH THIS GAME WE CALL GOLF! Before I started becoming a fan of golf, I always wondered how a game that looked so bland….and at times, DOWN RIGHT COMATOSE…. That seemed to take boredom to a whole new level,…..could possibly have ANY emotional appeal. DOES THIS GAME ACTUALLY HAVE A PULSE!? I mean,….what could be simpler?….Put the ball in the whole, right? How could THAT produce such strong emotions? (Both on and off the green?) I see now that it’s not just competing to be the best against others, and to better our own game. But that the game APPEARS to be so deceptively simple….. Could THAT be the source of this ‘emotional turmoil’? This emotional roller coaster ride (that we golfers just can’t seem to get off?)

Remember when you first began? How you may have experienced difficulty just gripping the club handle properly? (Or just being allowed to join the golf club?)…… But you still managed to put the ball in the hole. (A typical case of beginner’s luck). You probably thought to yourself, “This isn’t so bad…. Piece of cake!” But then after a while, all the realities of what could possibly go wrong between the tee and the hole COME CRASHING DOWN ON YOUR HEAD ! (That your instructor was so gracious to point out to you, by the way). Wind direction…contour of the land….sand traps…bunkers….the ruff ….other players watching….etc. That TEMPORARY NIRVANA OF IGNORANT BLISS that you once lived in was shattered to pieces at the next hole. Now,….instead of 4 or 5 strokes,…..it takes 7 or 8. Then 9 or 10…… Then the number 15 becomes your new ‘constant companion’….. You begin to over-think everything. Something that once easily flowed…..now becomes mechanical and forced. Your smile and upbeat attitude are gone. (now replaced with embarrassment, ….nervousness…..irritability. And finally,….THE DREADED FRUSTRATION SETS IN!

To quit seems more and more like a good idea. (I mean, who needs the aggravation right?) But you don’t quit, do you? The game is now like a ‘drug’ to you after several weeks. There’s something deep within the subconscious of we humans, that enjoys facing down a challenge….even if it’s a sport. There’s a drive to conquer in all of us. Even to the point of conquering our own weaknesses, and seeming lack of ability. Just keep punching, and that mountain’s gonna crumble and fall! We know that true skill is a diamond ‘in the ruff’, (just couldn’t resist), that can only be refined through hard work and practice. (And the challenge, is just too tempting to resist…..it’s like trying to eat JUST ONE potato chip…… NOT GONNA HAPPEN! We gotta have more and more and more! It’s…. AN ADDICTION! Almost beyond our ability to control! So,….there you have it…. We’ve looked at this issue of ‘golf emotions’, and I’ve come to the conclusion that underneath the bland exterior of this sport, there beats the heart of a raging torent of emotions that often carries golfers along with it to new heights of skillfulness and delight! So it DOES have a pulse! (And a massive, powerful one at that!) I’m really glad we looked at this issue. So on that note…… Keep drivin’, fellow golfer! Keep drivin’!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

’Handicap’ Blues
He’s no eager to reveal his handicap, Around the truth, he’d often tap! They told him his game was taking a nap That it never showed up…it needed a map! Of his golf apparel, he was oh so proud. But people thought it was just too loud. Often suggesting it needed a shroud! This caused a fight…a rolling dust cloud! To his heart, golf was the key. It was on the green, his soul felt free. He could hardly await the time for ‘tee’, But club dues must be paid…the ‘ride’s’ got a fee. Once in a blue moon, he made a birdie, Though he knew much about golf (a little nerdy). About to tee-off, his feet stood sturdy, But only took up a divot…brown and verde! It didn’t take long for his eyes to intake The path of the ball…the flight it must make. ”Easy!”, he thought. “This is gonna be cake!” But the fish all ‘braced’ for it’s entry into the lake.
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

’Ruff’ Day
In secret the rules he would often bend, From his mind, a rationalization he would lend. To him, the means justified the end. Like the fiercest warrior, his handicap must he defend! Into his ‘golf life’, sand traps would ‘rain’. Bogies ‘rolled in’, like some ghastly train! Cancelling out any birdies he’d gained, Another golf game he sighed, “Oh, the pain!” Shuffling into his house, his face fell…it tapered. His wife smirked, “You lost, didn’t you?” (Imagining the caper. With an outstretched hand that ‘said’, “Pay her!”, Into her purse his $20 went. (It vanished like a vapor). ”No dinner for me, thanks. I’m heading in early.” ”Awwww! It’s just a game,” she said. “No need to be surly. ”I’m not!, he said. “I need to rise early” ”Suuuure!,” she said. “You and the proverbial birdie!” He took a shower to wash away the day. It didn’t help much. That golf game would ‘stay’! His spirits were lifted, though, when he thought, “But hey!” And dancing with his wife saying, “Tomorrow’s another GOLF DAY!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

’Bunker Life’
Despite his best efforts, he ‘lived’ in the bunker, His old rusty nine-iron was branded a ‘clunker’! In a life ‘over par’, he’d have to hunker, Loudly in his ears, the jokes of critics would thunder. Arriving to the green, he was never late. He’d get there even if he had to skate. Persistence. Dedication….all good golfing traits, To get under par, he couldn’t wait. He wasn’t consistent, (and his golf game would game would waffle)! But his bragging friends he wanted to topple. Nine times out of ten his game was aweful! But a rare hole-in-one, was exquisite like truffles! Gum calmed his nerves. (He always had a packet). A picture of golf pros, to the wall, he’d tack it. Sometimes both, he’d have in his jacket. And pulled it out when he felt he couldn’t hack it! At the most difficult holes, he’d take a whack. Even if talent seemed to lack. His ‘station’ seemed continuously ‘behind the pack’. For this, he was mercilessly given flack!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Make Par ‘KNEEL’!
Sometimes his performance he’d often tape. So he embellished every move--like he wore a cape. But reality would then grab him by the ‘nape’, His ego again squashed……like an over-ripe grape! His game was at the bottom of the well, A thought on which, he hated to dwell. But it ‘dogged’ him everywhere,…as if stuck to his lapel, It showed up in his game (as anyone could tell). A bad nine holes caused his shoulders to droop, But did his best, (his pride), to recoup. Back and forth, from good to bad, was the ‘loop’, ”Perhaps,” he’d think, “I should be shooting hoops!” To cover his frustration, he became such a poser. Taking excuses to new levels…(What a ‘hoser!”) Anything at all to give him some ‘closure”, From the type of game he had most days…he termed ‘a NOSER!” But a great game inside him…he could just FEEL! Like a shining gem to the eye…It seems so REAL! To that goal! Full speed ahead!,” he set his keel, Through hard work, and true grit… HE’D MAKE PAR KNEEL!!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

New Course ‘Test-Drive’
The green at this club, he rated as GOLD, As evidenced, to get in, by the antiques he sold! All appointments, for today, were put on hold His hobby was calling, as through the course entrance he rolled. The grass, fresh cut, was green and lush. He must brag to others….Emotions GUSH! As his feet settle into it, his heart turned to mush, Pumping pure adrenaline….What a RUSH!! ”This is where I want to be!”, he thought. “I’m FINALLY on top!” He drank it all in …like a can of pop. Strokes off his game…this course would help him lop ”It’s inevitable!,” he thought, and started to bop! The other course he played at, he nicknamed ‘HAG’ Now a forgotten memory. A discarded rag. He couldn’t leave there fast enough. (Even his scent didn’t lag!), Now he was ‘home’…the place he called STAG! ”I’ll own this course!”, he thought. “She will be mine!” ”So beautiful to look at! She’s just so fine!” Not ‘sour’ like the last one. (Like eating lemon rind!) ”This one is sweet! Can’t wait to dine!”
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Worn Golf Shoes
As the new guy he didn’t want to seem too eager… not a glutton. No grinning on the course. (Not even while puttin’!) Wait your turn at the green…No cuttin’ in Decorum. Nobility….All that or nothin’! The dress code was ‘rich’ and very chic So his shoes had to go (as they moved with a creak). Unfortunately this time, his wallet was ‘weak’ The manager informed him—a new pair he must seek. At that, what could he say? He had to be mute. Payday was next week…he had no ‘loot’. He thought of an answer, something real cute But held it back. (Too easy to refute!) His pockets were empty; not even a ‘quid’. Today his wallet lived on the ‘row called ‘SKID’! This broke state he wanted farewell to bid, Along with those shoes. (Next week he’d be rid!) But until then, he had to be nimble. The manager’s heart strings he’d play like a cymbal. To be allowed to play, he’d even shiver and tremble. And appeal to his good graces, ever so careful.
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Eat Spinach, Man!
The sun beat down full blast it’s heat But he was here to play golf—no surrender, no retreat. Besides, his new golf shirt made him look neat. The ladies complimented him, “Aww, yeah man!” (Sweet!) Well over his head, lazily flew a kite. ”I bet I could hit it!”, he thought. “If the followthrough’s right!” His stroke needed to be good…solid and tight. But the wind didn’t behave…refused to be lite. Anyway, the rest of the course, he had to finish. Hopefully, no more bogeys, his score to blemish. He wanted a strong performance…one that ate spinach! He felt it wasn’t coming. (His soul felt diminished). But the game wasn’t over. More effort he’d exert. ”Focus now. C’mon…STAY ALERT!” From the pits of depression, he’d have to revert If his chances to improve, he didn’t want to hurt. This is the level of dedication he’d have to invest. From the depths of his soul, he made the request. He saw it work for others, to which they’d attest They’re examples he’d follow, if he didn’t want to regress.
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Hostile Crowd
He’d stay the course, (ever the trooper) Even though his golf game seemed fit for the s_w_r! His approach to the ball needed work…his aim must be ‘truer’ ”Dump that old swing!…It MUST be ‘newer’! ”Take it to a level above a wild swing” The ball agreed, hitting a metal post…”PING!” The echo of that sound, loud and clear, would ring The jokes of bystanders, continued to sting. The sun didn’t help…continued to roast. Both he and his golf game appeared to be toast! The biting insects saw him as their ‘host’ The golf cart served dual purpose…scratching post! The people were brutal…continued to tease. His fragile esteem, they cared not to please. They’d do this to a sick man who huffed and weezed ”Wish they’d leave me alone…Wish time would freeze!” ”Never-the-less, the insults still ‘hailed’ Their comments about him, continued to rail! If he had one now, he’d tuck his ‘tail’ ”For this abuse, they should be in jail!!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

’Attacking Bogeys’
He’d seek other’s advice….wouldn’t be a ‘mule’. In ignorance, don’t dwell, playing it cool. That’s for other players…don’t join their pool. Get knowledge and guidance….use these tools. Control over his golf game, he sought to marshall. The blood sweat and tears are worth the hastle. Yes,…bogeys will hang around like annoying tassels They’ll attack like ogres storming a castle. Over the draw bridge, across the moat They’ll come on strong, with depression they tote. ”I’ll be a great golfer,” you must often quote Ensure that doubt has no vote. Though your golf game seems lost in a fog And miles and miles of ‘course’ you’ve logged Keep searching…you’ll soon find that ‘missing cog’ That keeps your ‘golf machine’ from running smooth as ‘nog’. Hunt down par, as a lion hunts meat. The thrill of the chase. The ‘prey’ so sweet. This won’t happen,…your rear parked on a seat Get on out there….FEEL THE HEAT!!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

’Alice In ‘Golf-Land’
Sometimes you may have to work solo…like some lonely isle. Hit buckets of balls a day….at least ten piles! Keep pushing now…and after a while You’ll turn that green white…the golfer’s tile! Your greatest golf game can be found….(even if it’s with ALICE!) She may try to keep it in some fairytale palace. In the darkest dungeon, or some golden chalice Fight for what’s your’s…take it with MALICE! Be strong now….you’re in a ‘transforming mode’ You’ll take your golf game to ‘prince’ from ‘toad’! No short trip here. Take only essential ‘load’ Master territory at the end of the road. Put him to work…don’t spoil that caddie. Get him to help you…though he may act ‘ratty’! But not unappreciative…”Good job, laddie!” You two can make par say, “DADDY!” On the ‘rock’ of dedication,…your golf skill you’ll hone. Lift the weight of persistence….your soul will groan. Your sinews will stretch, your muscles will tone Begging won’t get it. Bank can’t give you ‘this loan’.
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Prison…..er, I mean….’Office-break’
Away from the office you may pine To endless green slopes, against horizon’s line. ”I’ve GOT to be there! Let’s ditch this mine!” ”Myself on the ninth hole, I want to find!” This cubicle he wanted to discard like lint. The five on the dial should’ve given his boss a hint. But he only requested more documents to be print Which all served to lengthen his stint. He hoped to dump the task on one of his ‘neighbors’ With fingers crossed, he’d pass along that ‘labor’. ”No, seriously…I’ll pay you back later!” His task on some intern (he tried to drape her). She didn’t fall for the lies from this ‘shark’ And knew his feet on the golf green, he wanted to park. His nose ‘grew so long’, it started to arc Hope flew away on the wings of a lark. His chances now seemed cast in doubt Even his golf club trophy, seemed to pout. The fertile ‘soil of possibility’, experienced a drought Favors from others, he’d have to tout.
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

’Office-Break’ (Part Two)
Every tick of that clock grew his urge. The stress of the day, he wanted to purge. ”Why couldn’t, now, opportunity and preparation merge?” To create luck, and bring it to the verge. Everyone he asked, it seemed to vex ‘em. (As evidenced by their beet-red complexion). ”Sympathy must be somewhere?” (He tried to ‘net’ some. But was only left in the, “NO WAY!!” section. He’d either do the work, or he’d be canned. That was his boss’s immovable stand. He made the rules. This was his ‘land’. And took pleasure in using a heavy hand. His chance to play golf was now in the pit He couldn’t get away from the office, (despite his whit). If only he could leave; if only he could ‘split’ Just one swing; at one ball…he salivated to hit! He wanted to smell the fresh cut grass The longing a man feels for a lass. ”I’ve got to get her! Got to ask!” ”Is there anyone who will take this task?!”
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

’Raging Wife’
His love of golf made his wife cringe On hours of watching this sport on the tube, he’d binge. To see him sit there, her temper would singe! His social life, on golf, seemed to hinge. Being late for their wedding, was the perfect case. There she was at the altar, all decked in lace. Finally, he rushed in. (Sweat poured off his face!) Still wearing his one glove. (She understood THAT ‘trace’!) She couldn’t believe it! (Not on THIS ‘stage’!) From that point on, he was in the ‘cage’. Forget explaining. (Just turn the page). Serious kissing-up required…or face her ‘12-guage!’ On more than one occasion, she wanted his neck wrung The only thing that saved him, was a ‘silver tongue’. But still, by a thread, he often hung As she shouted at him, at the top of her lungs! He was supposed to be the man of the house But her boiling anger, made him a mouse. She thought this golf game made him a louse Regardless, he had to have it. (A liberal dose!)
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

’Raging Wife’ (Part Two)
She wanted to get back to the days of their ‘court’, When only ‘sweet nothings’, his mouth would retort. Not all those ‘useless’ ‘leader board’ reports Each one only wound up her anger (more tort). She pulled her hair out so much she wore a wig. Absolutely necessary…(the patch was so big). Like someone shaved her head…(while dancing the jig!) There was plenty of space for a full-sized rig! Golf was clearly his ‘Achilles Heel’ To remove his face from the ‘mags’, you’d have to peel1 He devoured it all, like his favorite veal It made him feel free to do cart wheels! The worst of it was when he’d ignore Her calls for supper. (His mind was ‘on tour’!) He couldn’t shake it. (This powerful lore) Like he’d found some precious gold ore! Excited by a putt, he’d always stutter Depressed by a bogey, he’d often mutter. Either way, she didn’t know what he uttered Standing there, her nerves could only shudder!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

New Stock Arrival
A little rain couldn’t stop him. (Not even a sniffle). From flared up allergies (when exposed to the thistle). He’d fight through it while giving a whistle. Despite the fact, his nose would drizzle. His love for golf was deep and fervent Every golf store sale was considered urgent. He’d rush through the crowd…forget being a ‘gent’. To get there first was deeply entrenched. ”New stock on aisle twelve!”, reached the receiver. Like the world’s fastest track star, he ‘pulled the lever’. Others were running now, too. (The pitch reached fever). He’d chew up the competition like a deranged beaver! Through the growing crowd, he’d bob and weave. The best selection, he had to retrieve. Mean ways to trip these guys up, his mind would conceive ”Those shiny, new clubs are mine!”, is what he believed. The aisle narrowed quickly. (The fit was tight). Good thing he had most guys there by height. ’Cause he knew that shortly, there could be a fight! ”Alright, man! Time to show your might!”
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Fight On Aisle 12!
So said, so done. (He heard the first ‘bang’) As push came to shove, now in the air hangs The struggle for superiority. (Survival’s great ‘pang’) The ‘strings’ of combat struck. (The aisle echoed TWANG!! Bad things were spoken. Every four letter word. This was no place for chickens. No place for birds. A vicious atmosphere. A maddening ‘herd’ Fists would now fly. Blood would curd! This situation, out of hand. It quickly became ‘hairy’ ”Is this STILL worth it?” (Thoughts would vary). For most, the choice was clear. (Their conscience care-free ”I WANT THE BEST GOLF CLUBS! I”LL PICK THOSE ‘CHERRIES’!” As punches landed; kiosks thrown…..determination grew firmer. They didn’t even care. (And seemed ‘slow learners’). They’ll see this to the end. (They were no ‘coat turners’). ”Forget the bridge, man!” (The consensus was, “Burn her!” With determination and true grit, none would cave It was clear to the manager, to golf, they were slaves! More seemed to rush in on every ‘wave’ Is this any way for grown men …(and women)….to behave?
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

More ‘Raging Wife’
A few minutes thinking about golf, he often stole. She felt his mind was perched, on some ‘grassy knoll’! To look at her, you saw eyes of ‘burning coal’! But his were shut…as ‘ball dropped in hole’! She figured that if she cooked his ‘fav’ He’d at least pay attention. (Pretend to rave)! Despite best efforts, she could not stave The ‘brick road’ he was on, with golf balls, was paved! With a smile on his face, his demeanor was lax She couldn’t believe the ‘punch’ that golf packs! To the course, after work, he’d always make tracks! Often to those clubs, she wanted to take an axe! More to her, she felt, he could be loyal. He missed all clues, (even when her temper boiled!) And wrath ‘grew strong’, in the rich ‘angry soil’! Thinking of ‘plans’. (This golf, to foil). On the table went the pot roast, straight from the oven. She’d prepared it with care. (Packed it with lovin’). She wouldn’t give up. (Her dedication was stubborn) But by the golf game on TV, his attention was governed’!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Even MORE ‘Raging Wife’
”This could be the time,” she thought, “to break out the belt!” Nothing serious, mind you. (“Just a few well placed welts!”) ”Or perhaps with vine-ripened tomatoes, this idiot, to pelt!” Or over his head, that sherbet to melt! But she thought better. (Didn’t want tensions to brew). She wondered if he was even aware. (Not sure if he knew) Wasn’t there always a pair in the relationship? (Always two?) Situation now dictated she question, if that’s still true! Was he always going to be ‘on the ball’? To play this game…like a girl plays with a doll? Would he listen to her concerns? Heed her call? To forsake this game for her? Forsake it all? ”Not likely,” she thought. As at the screen he pants. Could she break his concentration? Forced to admit, “I can’t.” It’s pointless to argue. Pointless to rant Silently going about his business, like a dutiful ant. She could pray for him, though. (Maybe sing a hymn) Better than that idea; (she had to break a limb)! But she started to calm down. (Temper stayed trim) ”Lucky for him. Could have been a ‘blimp!”
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

’Puddle’ On The Course
He was tempted to ‘cheat’. (Felt like most folks). And was often caught. (Face sporting a ‘yolk’). Still he tried to pass it off as an elaborate hoax Forcing a falls smile, while in their ribs he’d poke! The course owner once caught him. (His face turned white). His stomach got queasy. His head got lite. And felt he could lift off like a wind-blown kite It wasn’t long before urine appeared at the site! Now on Humanity’s ‘nose’, he felt like the wart. Fellow golfers all stared, and put him in ‘court’! In mind, some got more drastic, and locked him in a fort! No sympathy blessed their faces. (They were all tort). ”Unbelievable!,” they thought. “What a miserable wretch!” Everyone, but him, was ticked off. Everyone vex! Some said, “Make sure he doesn’t do that again!” ”Be vigil to catch!” Others wanted the security guard, right away, to be fetched! ”Throw a few blows! Give his neck a good ring!” ”A few well-placed bumps, would make a good crown’ for this king!” ”Take him by the collar! Give him a good fling!” ”Shake him ‘til he tells the truth! Make him sing!”
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved)..

”Throw Him OUT!!” (‘Puddle’ Part TWO)
He couldn’t escape it. They all pointed the finger. He would have to tread lightly. (Have to be ginger). This wouldn’t go away. (The bad taste, would linger). His reputation changed. (Credibility injured). To the exit of the golf course, they all wanted him to march. ”C’mon! Move it soldier!” (Like his pants had starch! He couldn’t back-talk them. (His throat was parched). Head bent; eyes down; back arched. Through all this shame, he had to wade. To make this day disappear, he’d have gladly paid! He couldn’t believe, the mistake he’d made But the fault, at his feet, was clearly laid. It was a vicious ‘meal’ he was forced to ‘sup’ Like bitter herbs, from a great big cup. He had to face it…had to suck it up It made his soul ‘shiver’, like an orphaned pup. He was depressed. (His spirit forlorn). Despite a brave front, facial expression mourned. His self-esteem dried up like last week’s corn It’s silky hair blown away. (Not one left. Gone!)
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

No Rust Here
Never on his golf clubs, would you ever find rust. He loved them too much. (You could call it lust). Not surprisingly, they didn’t collect dust. ’Cause nine holes of golf per day, were a must! The ‘golfer’s aura’, he wore like a fleece Extreme relaxation; someone at peace. Every stroke of the ball, on his life, gave a new lease Would he ever quit? (Wonders never ceased). The security guard, at the green, he’d always hound. For a late night game, or just one more round. After being thrown out, the gates he’d still pound He had no shame. (Loud begging would sound). Any new golf course in the area, he’d eagerly acquaint. If rain fell that day, he’d almost faint! Some would see this as funny. (In his mind, “It aint!”) It was like darkness covered his world. (Like some wretched paint!) Everyone knew his love of golf wasn’t subtle. Never late to the course. (He’d always hustle). Through lines at the elevator, stoplights, traffic’s bustle To get through this ‘soup’, would take some muscle!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Rivals’ Dilema
He dressed the part of a golfer…a really cool ‘cat’. Some had to admit, “Those pants and shirts are ‘PHAT’!” Others threw insults. Totally unaware that, This guy could give as good as he got. (Tit for tat!) The course that he played on, resembled a cell Didn’t matter, though. (For golf, there he’d dwell). His hunger for golf, was hard to quell This was apparent to everyone. Anyone could tell! Nice guy, generally. (But on the course, meant war)! His concentration …laser. (His drives went far). Many smashing the windshields, of parking lot cars) His opponents afterwards, needed a trip to the bar! Wouldn’t bend to the pressure. (Would not bow). He’d take his sweet time. (Like some cud-chewing cow). His rivals, all, were secretly wowed Asking themselves, “What do I do now?” Forced to admit, they were deep in the ‘quag’ Their game, his brilliance, by the collar did drag. For defeat, their chances, were inevitably ‘tagged’ Not soon to be forgotten. (Forever to be nagged).
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

’Kiss-UP’
He even liked to watch the grass being mowed Not he only. Others observed. (A crowd…3-deep row). He came fully prepared…camera in tow Having the sand traps raked…praise they did throw. Astonishingly, his enthusiasm didn’t wane He didn’t want his ‘perfect attendance’ stained. Just like the reputation of Cain The more time on the course, was precious gain. A little golf before dinner, he’d always ‘nip’ In the latest golf magazine, he’d take a ‘dip’. Attached to the sport, were both his lips On fantasies of golf tours, he’d often ‘trip.’ To be as good as the pros, he’d often yearn Though his ball usually landed in the ferns! That didn’t stop him. (From adversity, he didn’t turn). His place, at the top spot, must be earned! That means he’d have to take his licks. He knew for a while, that the golf game ‘kicks.’ But never-the-less, he’d swing those ‘sticks’ He’d push on through. (“One day it’ll click!”)
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Uphill Struggle
He knew that victory was somewhere in the ‘pipe’ To move it along, his brow he’d have to wipe. It’s not to be achieved through shortcuts and hype ’Cause failure and defeat just weren’t his ‘type’! The cost to reach his goal, he carefully weighed. It’ll be a tough fight. (He’d join the ‘fray’). Either he, or obstacles, would be made ‘hay’ One or the other, blows would ‘lay’! This called for him to break out the ‘claws’! The golf game would surely strike with it’s ‘paws’. Between the two of them, this fight, no crowd would draw (If they only knew, it would fill them with awe!) Par proved so elusive. (Such a rogue)! Such a ’drama queen’! (Always en vogue!) It seemed to take delight in ‘battle mode’ Throwing full weight behind it’s ‘blows.’ (Lock-‘N-Load!) This will be really tough. (Expect much toil) It’s ready to strike….a rattler all coiled. Temper always furious; always at a boil! Such an air of superiority…it’s ‘blood’ was royal!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

A ‘Ruff’ Go Of It
The sand traps bothered him. (He hated those grains!) Like salt crystals to the eyes, (Each one offered pain). Unfortunately into these traps, his golf balls would usually ‘rain’ He’d just have to push through it. Just have to train. ”These caps should be bigger. They don’t give much shade!” And it’s often a hastle, through this humidity, to wade. But from those golf clubs, his hands could not be stayed. So those little problems, he decided to bade. Scoring his play wasn’t always pleasant. (He hated the tally). If only he could get it out of the ‘sand trap alley!’ Or worse yet…THE RUFF VALLEY! Where many of his shots were ‘eaten.’ (Like in some pirate’s galley! All the polishing didn’t work. (His golf game showed ‘decay). He puts all into it…effort on full array. Afterwards, a hose dealt with the sweat. (He needed a spray; Those around him agreed. (“Without delay!”) He would push as high as he could…a ‘golf supernova’. Dig as deep as he could. (A ‘golf super-gopher’!) He knew this attitude would take him ‘over’. This wasn’t a vacation cruise. (He isn’t a boater).
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

”Golf IS SOOoooo BORING!”
His ‘price’ for par, was getting less steep. Not a stretch to believe. Not a big leap. To believe he’d soon be at the top of the ‘heap’, The path was now set…persistence to keep. Others preferred dogs and cats. (Golf , was his pet). His love for it carved in stone…mind well set! To those other courses, he wish he could jet. Pity bogeys he usually seemed to net. A golfer, from the heart, seemed his lot The severest ‘golf-bug’, he seemed to have got. Perhaps slipped a love potion (cooked in a nefarious ‘pot’). With all the finest spices….made extra hot. With a hole-in-one, he felt such power! More fresh the air smelled. Sweeter the flowers! He could climb the world’s tallest tower! He could look at the replays for hours! To hear, “Golf is SO BORING!”, stirred his bile. Were it not for self-control, they’d be in a deep ‘pile!’ In fact, he needed to calm down for a while Or their faces, his blows would tile!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Master Golfer Lore
From one end of the course to the other, he wanted to trek Chip shot after chip shot. (He loved to ‘peck’). His shirt was drenched. Sweat poured down his neck. ”All part of the game,” he reasoned. “What the heck!” He was ‘friends’ with all of ‘them’. (Knew every ‘wood’). As long as the ball went in the hole, he considered them good. He felt so cool. (“Maybe I should wear a hood?!”) But he also knew the rules. (“If only I could!”) To peace and serenity, he saw golf as the ‘door.’ He wanted to tap into ‘Master Golfer’ lore. Wanted to explore this game to it’s core Subtract golf from his life? (He’d feel so poor!) Golf is what he loved…it was his niche. But the game, was clearly, the one to ‘teach’. And his grasp, definitely exceeded his reach Dozens of bogeys turned his face ghostly white. (Like it had been bleached!) Fortunately, he’s always been a persistent bloke. Even if his golf game ‘loudly croaked’! Sometimes, in self-pity, he would soak The but_ of all his opponents jokes.
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Looming Twilight
He’d do virtually anything to advance But one thing was clear. (It wouldn’t happen by chance). The knight would fight to the end. (Continue to swing his lance). His work ethic, he’d have to enhance. Competitors sought to cream him like wheat. They’d try to hit where it hurts. (To knock him on his seat) But one would fold after another. (Like skirt pleats) After the dust settled, amazingly enough, he still looked neat! A good score, he liked to play close to the vest Let others boast that they were the best. Every obstacle in his path was a test ”Me, give up during the hard times?.…Surely, you jest!” Straight to the course, after work, he’d zoom He’d play with anybody. (No matter with whom). And be there so long, twilight would loom The course often brightened, by the light of the moon. Sometimes he’d join late games. Many in the lead. One by one, he’d ‘pluck’ them up. (Each ‘golfer weed’). Though he forewarned, they did not heed That on each of their leading spots, he’d ‘feed!’
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

The Dreaded ‘Box’
First drive the golf ball, into the blue One time it rolled,(and settled into dog ‘goo’)! Not many people knew about that. (Fortunately few). And tried to make the switch to a ball, (brand new). He just comes to the course to drive some ‘rocks’ The sand trap awaited….the dreaded ‘box’! Ten swings, he’d be there. (Putting much in his socks). He wasn’t going anywhere. (He was ‘locked’). His luck often dried up like a raison. This means he was certainly due for a ‘hazin’. Many offered their counsel, “Your time you’re-a- waistin’!” His ego would definitely take a ‘pastin’! News of a new course made his eyes ‘pop’ This demanded a new golf shirt…demanded he shop! For this, a pretty penny, he’d often drop Although his golf partners, usually thought it was a ‘flop’! To him, a rainy day, was like sucking lime. He couldn’t speak. (Only gesture, like a mime). Even worse, was playing from behind! He felt the game moved slow, like Father Time!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

’Liver Quiver’
It was his delight to hit those ‘peas’! Although they usually landed among the trees! The sport attracts golfers, like honey attracts bees! But few of them knew the golf success secrets…. ‘THE KEYS”! Of this great game, he had many tales. When the game was going good, he played through a gale! You think that’s something? (He played through HAIL!! Being such a ‘ham’, he took pictures. (Which, to friends he mailed! He was always happy to help others. (A really great ‘tipper’! ”Knowledge should be passed along to others. (Be a giver.”) ”That’s the right attitude. (The lesson of the ‘river).” Miserly people, always made his liver quiver. To no other sport, was he totally chaste He saw other sports as such a waste. ‘Fast’ wasn’t his thing. (He loved the pace) ”Why rush the fun? Why make haste?” He played ‘til the setting of the sun He had to take his ‘fill’…had to expand his ‘tum’. Few, if anyone, could stall his ‘run’ Not even his siblings…(Not even his mum!)
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Attached At The Hip
Golf fanatics play this game to the hilt. He did a course in Scotland (where he wore a kilt!) But that’s nothing. (You should have seen him on stilts!) Nothing ever made his persistence wilt! Golf was taking over his life. (He was fully aware). Not that it mattered to him. (He didn’t care !) It was a part of him now. (“All in his hair’) Healthy or morbid obsession..(Could he separate ‘wheat from tare’?) The golf course was his passion. (Where he loved to tread) When closed for repairs, he’d always see ‘red’! Others counted sheep. (But golf clubs danced in his head) He couldn’t turn from the sport. (It was now ‘lead’!) He was in love with this sport. (Had so much pride!) He hovered across the green course, (Seemed to glide!) Like he rode an ocean wave. (Came in on the tide) He put on a show for others. (Did not hide). He and golf, made quite a pair There are millions more like him. (Not at all rare). If not on the course, his clubs he had to be near This attracted funny looks. People tended to stare!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

STILL More ‘Raging Wife’
He labored over this golf game like a mother hen. Couldn’t remember if he ever disliked the game. Couldn’t remember when. He’d often play, ‘til the hour of ten Then to his wife, an excuse, he’d have to lend. He was caught in golf’s ‘headlights’ like a ‘doe’! About to be ‘run over’. To take direct the blow. His wife pleaded to him for balance. Wanted him to know That his obsession to his home social life low. But he felt he should play more, NOT less. This to her he confessed. And pushed his ‘case’…continued to press Until his face, with cole slaw, she decided to dress. His clubs had to be the best. He wouldn’t but cheap. To hit those ‘birdies’, he wanted to hear, “PEEP!” His wife felt he’d become such a creep When in his golf bag, he wanted to SLEEP! ”Golf-on-the-brain,” must be fully etched It’s what she imagined. (Wasn’t much of a stretch). If she threw a club, he would go ‘fetch’ ”It’s ALL he thinks about!…That miserable wretch!”
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

New Club ‘Gauntlet’
Passing a department store window, he saw a new ‘nine’ He wanted it badly, and started to pine! (It’d be a shame to leave it there. Had to be a crime) He’d make up some excuse to his wife. (He’d make up a ‘line’. He went in, and came out, clutching his ‘loot’ Peeked inside the bag thinking, ”YOU’RE SO CUTE!! He loved it right away. (Down to the ‘roots’) He had labored long and hard. (Deserved this ‘fruit’). Unfortunately, this purchase, required many dollars. Which meant that his credit card, had another collar! His wife would make a lot of noise. (Surely she’d hollar) He had to have his stuff. (Didn’t she know he was a ’BALLER’?! He realized she wouldn’t swallow it. (No way she wouldn’t ‘barf’ Soon he’d be wearing that golf club like a scarf! She’d say, “This was the choice of a dim wit. A brain that only had ‘half’! When she’d be through with him, he’d need to walk with a staff! There must be some way he could convince this ‘skirt’ That with this club, his golf game hit ‘pay dirt’. And their bank account, the purchase, didn’t much hurt Mission: To find a way, her arguments, to avert!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

New Club ‘Gauntlet’ (Part Two)
Would he get away with it? (Would this ‘joy-ride crash?) Would this golfer have to return his ‘stash’? Maybe he could hide it behind the sash Maybe he could bribe her with some cash! ”Man!…She WOULD have to be ‘THE GRINCH”! To salvage this day, he’d need a winch! And a lot of LUCK! (More than a pinch) ”Why couldn’t this whole thing be a cinch?!” Couldn’t she see he needed this ‘mace’?! (An essential purchase, to win this ‘golf race’.) To stay on the road to #1…to keep up the pace Besides,…didn’t he last month, buy her that lace? Maybe on her, this ‘song-and-dance’, he could pin (Accompanied by the world’s biggest grin)! This ploy was as empty as a can made of tin Drop it now, and even the neighbors will hear the din! To pull this off, he’d have to keep his poise Stand by his decision. Stand by his choice. ”Yeah, she’ll blow her top. Yeah, she’ll make noise” But ‘twas a necessary purchase. (He too, would raise his voice!)
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

A Common Misconception
He loved the golf game. (But it made him cuss). Getting out of bunkers, required such a fuss! He didn’t cry, though. (Wasn’t a wuss) He knew his ‘tail’, on this ‘journey’, he’d have to bust! Sand traps caused him to ‘dig a hole to China’ (And the ruffs on the course, weren’t any kinder!) Those water hazards were nothing minor He may as well have been wearing blinders! To those who think golf is such a bore, He’s come to the conclusion, “Their mind’s on tour!” ”Didn’t they see the skill? (Hard to ignore!”) ”Give me five minutes with them! (Common sense would pour!” ”Not taking the time to learn the game! It’s their fault!” ”It also wouldn’t hurt if they lay off the malt!” ”No due diligence!, was the term he called ”It’s what they needed!” (“Like fish need salt”!) It would take much, his love of this game to quell A ‘fresh-cut course’, he loved to smell. Though to many people, it wasn’t hard to tell As on the green, rather than home, he preferred to dwell!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

A Fine ‘Golf-Morn’
He couldn’t help but love the ‘golfer’s manner’. The decorum, the dignity, the ‘glitz, the glamour’ Not to mention, he always came home ‘tanner’ (But not on the face…the ‘golfer’s banner’). Over his performance afterwards, he’d always mull To note his weaknesses. (The holes in the hull). At moronic mistakes, he’d cry like a gull It hurt to the core. (Like a tooth being pulled)! They were joined at the hip. (Golf was his kin) But many times it dumped him in the ‘bin’. The ‘correction’ from the game, often ‘chaffed his skin He felt he needed the ‘oil of sympathy’. (About an hin!) ”Saturday! At last! A fine ‘golf-morn’!!” ”Look out world! Another golf genius is born!” He had to be his biggest fan. (Had to blow his horn) This game is so competitive. (“You’ve got to ‘pop your own corn!”) Each putt of the ball, he sought to conquer BEFORE each putt of the ball, he’d long ponder Unless interrupted, he’d go on longer Making his competitors FIERCLY filled with ‘wonder’
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

No ‘Hazers’ Allowed!
This game had much to teach him. (He was STILL a ‘child’). Compared to others, his golf game was mild. He didn’t see it, though. (Thought it was ‘wild’!) Though his competitors were successful, ‘his number, to dial’! He needed a strong dose of reality. (Perhaps a ‘tazer’). He didn’t need someone giving a false assessment. (Not a ‘glazer’!) Neither someone spewing unrealistic goals. (A ‘hazer’!) Time better spent ‘chewing the basics’ like a ‘grazer’ The number one spot….he was on it’s trail> This had to be something he was sure to ‘nail’. Many treacherous obstacles he’d have to assail (Especially the club membership dues, he got in mail!) A round of golf, was his favorite ‘dish’ And winning that round, was simply ‘delish!” But if he had a bad game. (If the round was ‘offish’) He’d stink up the course, like week-old fish! He liked the look of his clubs. (Long and slender) With a good follow-through, a great shot was rendered. The by-product of this? (Opponents put in the ‘blender!’) Their ‘hard mouths’ were then turned real ‘tender’!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

The Golf ‘PIMP’
Winning more rounds…this was the ‘cream’! Smiling opponents (whose insides ‘screamed’!) ”Could it get ANY better?” (This was his dream) To see their ‘mantle of composure’ destroyed! (He’d ‘split the seam’!) This wasn’t always ‘golf-reality’. (Sometimes it was ‘limp’) Most of the time, golf was his ‘pimp’! (Or worse yet, some over-bearing imp!) His score, over par, would blow up like a blimp! His ball hit the water so much, it practically grew gills! This served only to wash away the thrill! As the laughter of other players, made him feel ill To wipe the smirks off their faces, he’d gladly pay a ‘mil’! A ‘nasty game’, showed on his ‘mug’ You can believe for days, that game, he’d ‘lug’. But on his heart strings, the ‘golf-experience’ would tug). ”So I had a bad day!”….”Learn from it!”, he shrugged. Still, a tall order. (The after taste like old cider) He’d have to shake it off. Look to days brighter. Chisel his golf game. Make it tighter. Saw here. Chip there. Use the ‘miter.’
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

”LIES!!”
The ‘cloud’ that hung over his head, was often black This golf game mercilessly gave him flack! At times he wondered if he could hack The obstacles that lay along this game’s ‘track’. To get to the ‘honey’, you deal with the ‘stings’ Golf, around his eyes, had put a few ‘rings’. And took delight, in pulling his ‘strings’ Never-the-less, he seemed to savor these things. To get to the top, seemed a ‘sky filled with pies’ ”Many say the game is easy….LIES!” It loves to trip you up. (His shoe laces ‘it often ties’!) People miles away, could hear the anguished cries! So the flames of desire, he needed to stoke Also, not a bad idea, his ego to stroke. ’Cause he couldn’t look to other folk To be a steady source of encouragement. (Like some great oak). Golf seemed to play a trick on him. (Some intricate ruse Entrance to the top spot, it always refused. ’Obstacles in his path’ , obscured his view But he knew he had the power to choose.
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Golf ‘Blows’
This was the way of golf. (He got the gist) But ‘it’s backside’, he’d never kiss. He was more determined than ever, and raised his fist To cross ‘the top spot’ off his ‘accomplished list.’ Take it down a notch. (Make it a ‘lamb’). take away it’s fight. (Make it calm). Show how cool you can be. (Like an island palm). Throw blows if necessary. (BIF! BOOM! BAM!) The taunts of competitors would hit a nerve Like something crawling under his skin. (A saddle bur). All of their laughter ‘raised his fur’ A good helping of ‘payback’, he’d have to serve! ”Those pigs!” (He’d make them eat from the trough)! An improved golf game would make them bow! This was the way to do it. This was how To see the looks on their faces, through the roar of the crowd! He’d tried to be professional. (Forget petty antics) Could he, though? (Being such a maverick). He wanted to give a hand sign. (Very graphic)! Something that could possibly stop traffic!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Divot Dilema
So many divots….like he was preparing a farm. ”Ah, sorry folks!…..No cause for alarm!” ”Couldn’t be helped!…..I’ve got a strong arm!” ”Don’t worry about the golf green!…There’s not much harm!” He could be in trouble here. (The fire had his bacon) Didn’t want them to know t’was an act. (Totally fakin’!) He considered seriously, whether tracks, he should be makin’! To put a beating on him, green attendants, were achin’! It was like, in his ear, someone hit a gong The ‘fat lady’ was definitely singing her ‘song’! And those attendants looked pretty strong Surely, they would have ‘right’ his ‘wrong’! To get out of this, he’d have to be nimble And hope they didn’t notice how he trembled! There must be a salvation (Something simple) Before they ‘pop’ him, like a teenager’s pimple! A look at their faces, showed they were miffed! No sign of mercy anywhere. Not a whiff! Their intention was strong. (Determination stiff!) He was thanking GOD, this course had no cliff!
copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Divot Dilema (Part Two)
His favor, with them, had fallen off a log They clearly wanted to beat this ‘dog’! Or better yet, make this ‘prince’ to join the ‘frogs’! ’Cause he was clearly the problem ‘cog’! Though he was at fault, ‘twas not the time to cower Stand up tall, like some mountain tower! Put on display, your golf power This was no place for a wall flower! This ‘road’ today, had come to a ‘fork’ A perilous ‘baby’, from some mischievous ‘stork’! Now sitting back laughing. (Enjoying the mock) Of this strange, and crazy, clueless dork! The whole scene to it, must have been so tasty Maybe like an evil concoction. (Some tasty pastry). Savoring every ‘bite’. (Not being hasty). ’Cause this was a ‘meal’, it hadn’t had lately! This situation, it would clearly ‘milk’ Devouring every ‘morsel’, smooth as silk. Amazing how it had such ilk Out of a safe get away, this golfer, it would bilk!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Golfers’ Drool
Over golfers’ new drivers, he’d often drool (It made others cringe, as it started to pool). Passed time he got rid of his rusty ‘tool’ The thought gave him a warm feeling. (Like being wrapped in wool). He’d play this game on fields of wheat (Even on gravel, this would be a treat!) Maybe on new ‘turf’, golfers should meet (Who’s to say that wouldn’t be sweet)! He was so ‘coupled’ to golf, you might as well throw rice! It caused an ‘itch’ he had to ‘scratch’ (like lice)! To his bland life, it added some ‘spice’ It’s a real shame, his golf game’s on ‘ice’! Being on the green his adrenaline would ‘amp’ ”Golfer for life!’, near his name, you could stamp! He loved it so much, he’d play by ‘lamp’! Driving rain could not, his spirits, damp! He thought his putter was as cute as a fawn. (Especially while lying (next to it) on the lawn!) He could stare at it ‘til the coming of dawn This was a real possibility, others warned.
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Golf’s Greatest ‘Lover’
Too often he’d rescue his ball from brambles From many gators, he’d have to scramble! Forever about these, to others, he’d ramble Most agreed, those stories were long and ample! ’Breaking par’ was quite a puzzle A tough ‘meal’ to ‘swallow’.(Many bogeys to ‘guzzle’)! Could he FINALLY stop the constant ‘muzzle’? With the word ‘over’, it would take some hustle! ’Par’s defence’ is water-tight. (Like peach fuzz) Others have cracked it. (What a winner does). Looks like around this course, he’d have to ‘buzz’ And put downs from other golfers, he’d have to ‘guzz’! Why does golf ‘snub her greatest lover’? She rejected him, like sea lion blubber! Not even offering some weak ‘cover’ ”I guess there’s no need for a ‘plea’ to mutter! He was definitely ‘chained’, like ‘her mutt’ His only ‘treat’, were times he putt! Was he crazy for taking this ‘treatment’? (Was he nuts)? Perhaps. (But this was HIS kind of rut!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Golf’s Cool, Right?
”Golf is cool, right?”, he’d often question.”Really hip?” ”Was it the IT? thing to do?” (Or was he just a ‘drip’?) Did his ‘game face’ need a ‘tuck and nip’? Hopefully, the answer wouldn’t require a stiff upper lip. ”YES! Golf just had to be cool!” (Nothing else seemed to make him drool!) No one could talk him out of it. (He was a ‘mule’!) Golf, it would seem, had made him her ‘tool’! He wanted to devour this game (to the cob) Didn’t see it as work. (No laborious job). Though he must admit, his time it did rob Often in over his head. (Like a cork that bobbed)! People questioned his sanity. (But he was sane!) He had not gone down ‘Dorothy’s Lane!’ The thought he was throwing his time down the drain ”How could this sport be anything but bane?!” Though he wasn’t one to believe in fate He very strongly believed that golf was his MATE! This game appeared to love keeping him late Whatever it was…golf had strong bait!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Golf’s Seductive Allure
If golf was a waste, he’d have to see proof Let them show WHY it made him a goof! If not, expect a punch to the gut! (Oof!) If so, towards the game, he’d become aloof! Did golf’s ‘sweet music’, it play on a harp? And cause his sense of logic to warp? Did it pull the wool over his eyes? (Maybe a tarp?) Over the course of his obsession, was he now less sharp? Golf fit him perfectly. (Like ‘fairytale porridge!) Other games were at the back of his mind. (In ‘storage!’) No matter the course fees. (He’d gladly pay a ‘mortgage’!) But to tell his wife, he’d need truck loads of courage! Especially because lots of money, he wasn’t ‘rakin’! She would surely come to believe he was ‘taken.’ He might come up with a good excuse. (If he wasn’t shakin’! (Imagining she’d ‘cook his bacon’! Approaching the front door, his sweat began to ‘bead’ Praying silently, his ‘dough’, she wouldn’t kneed! On first sight, her face, he’d carefully read To see whether this required him, to beg and plead!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Pale By Comparison
The links were his main focus. (Most other things were blurry). Other sports got the cold shoulder. (Rain and flurries)! They were like old food in the fridge to him. (Green and furry)! On the course is where he could breath. (Was in no hurry). In golf the ‘eagle’ was pursued, like the great, white whale. One of those in your ‘bag’, would be off the scale! Most other sports feats, by comparison, would pale One of these ‘creatures’, he was compelled to ‘nail’! Admittedly, golf is a game that doesn’t caudal Filled with obstacles and traps, that make one doddle! Some players believe, it’s the ‘Torture Chamber’ model The pressure alone, would cause some to waddle! Water hazards may have some crocs Traps could generate ‘coo-coo clocks’! The ruff could leave one in shock The player, to himself, could begin to ‘talk’! This game made people like ‘garden gnomes’ Both men and women. (No matter whom). Never-the-less, golfers take this desire to the ‘tomb’ Was he destined to play golf from the womb?
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Course Manager
If nothing else, he got a great tan That’s one of the perks of being a fan. He didn’t know what to do if they were to ban him from this green he called, ‘The Land’. It was great, because of golf carts, there were ample At other clubs, you may just get ‘trampled’! Trying to get one, he recalls an example Of a fight breaking out. (And he left through the brambles!) To the course manager, he must tip his ‘brim’ For keeping this huge 18 hole course so trim! ”Must take a Herculean effort! (With someone losing a limb!) However they did it….’twas a slam dunk to him! It was like they gave this course some ‘bling’! The water hazards sparkled like diamond rings! Even the grass were like emeralds in Spring! This course was definitely, fit for a king! Everything in it’s place. (Down to the letter). He heard more improvements were slated. (Even better)! They really had their stuff together! For life, to this place…consider him tethered!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. All rights reserved).

Eyeing The Top Spot
It’s amazing how long it takes to reach the ‘summit’ Most of the time, your golf game tends to plummet! Just find a song that calms you. (Continue to hum it) It’s a merciless obstacle course. (But still run it!) Everyone eyes the top spot. (Contemplating a ‘coup’!) Golfers with great tips, may keep you out of the ‘loop’! But play the game long enough…you’ll pick up some clues That’s how every game is ‘colored’ a competitive ‘hue’! There are times when the game can lose you in a sea of kelp A ‘newbie’ to the game, can feel like a whelp!” But fortunately, there are resources for help And not in some far away place, from some fairy tale elf! To step on the green pumped his adrenaline. (Taxed his ‘glands’) How could it not? (The place was so grand!) It was an honor, there, for him to stand; But still, from the course, he’d make strong demands! He had a had a strong desire for golf. (Always ‘hungry’!) (Maybe even enough to eat ‘mung’ beans!) With this mind set, they’d probably taste like honey This place made him feel ‘in the money!”
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

FORE!!
He’d work this green like a faithful drone That’s what success called for. (Don’t cry and moan). To believe otherwise, was to wear a ‘cone’! There’s no way around it. (Skills must be honed!) Golf showed strength and power when ‘swinging the ‘mace’ Yet delicacy through precision. (Like the finest lace). Turn on you instantly. (Your courage shattered like a vase) This was not unusual. (A typical case). A good ‘helping’ of golf he wanted. (Use the big ladle). He had a huge appetite. (‘Spread the table’!) He’d eat as much as possible. (As much as he was able) ’Unending Stomach’, was the required ‘label’! Unfortunately, more times than not, he forgot to say FORE!! An important rule, in golfing lore. Quite a few boaters chased him with oars! They wanted to ‘do him in’ from the core! It’s too bad he’s such a slow starter This would improve as he learned to play smarter. (Perhaps stop making decisions flipping quarters!) This was a start. (But he MUST go farther!)
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Game Like Thatch
His wish was to be one of the guys on tour The desire was intense. (Very raw). To the point where the sweat would almost pour! But the anticipated work shedule, made the idea sour! His putter was smooth like butter. (Just a pat) It was like those holes had a welcome mat! Pity those sand traps, were just so ‘fat’! Must be the place where elephants sat! Golfers are always supposed to show poise Even when something generates noise. Though they play hard, those girls and boys These clubs and balls, are their favorite toys! The structure of his game was much like thatch Making things up as he went along from scratch! Hoping a fair game just might ‘hatch’ Needing a decent companion for this game. (A match!) He day dreamed about the gain from his efforts. (The ‘fruit’) But as yet, he hadn’t seen much ‘loot’! Not many times, his horn, to toot Nothing to write home about. (This game was a brute!)
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Bogey Flurry
The top spot was far away. (Looked so blurry) Hidden by the massive ’BOGEY FLURRY’! Every grey hair on his head was a sign of worry There must be some way, with this golf game, favor to ‘curry!” ”What is the connection? Where’s the nexus?” ”To golf’s top prize. (How do I ‘fetch it’?) ”Is it to be found in the state of Texas?” ”The journey of a thousand miles, begins with the next hit. ”Why is this taking so long?! (Others solved their ‘plight!’) Was there something blurring his sight? Maybe his desire wasn’t fierce enough. (A little too trite) Or explaining away his golf game’s weaknesses. (Coloring them bright!) ”Wasn’t golf supposed to be simple? (Easily plundered?)” Then why was he making so many blunders? Why did it always take him ‘under’? It seemed to always label him, ‘DUNDER’! At other’s successes, he’d often swoon. They seemed to always experience such a ‘boon’! But he seemed to march to a ’joker’s tune’! Even the sun couldn’t brighten his day at noon!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Evict That Monkey!
There must be a way to evict this ‘monkey’ (It really made his golf game smell funky!) Not surprisingly, it was stubborn as a donkey Especially fierce. (Old and grumpy)! Did ‘failure’s belt’ have another ‘notch’? A piece of his soul? A little swatch? And all this happened on ‘his watch’ Prompting him to seek hard scotch! Was his spine like steel? Or was it floppy? Was he an original? Or just a copy? The calm ‘lake’ of his soul, was now ‘choppy’ If only his performance could bloom like a poppy. Too bad he couldn’t peek inside top golfers’ minds. (Just a gander) To learn their tactics for ‘eating’ a game. (Like bamboo to pandas). ’Cause frustration often raised his dander (Or when someone used his name in slander). It won’t be long before this game made him bald Each one of his hairs are soon to be ‘called’ This course would acquire quite a ‘haul’ Pillaging his scalp like an ancient Gaul!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Hitting Trees
How do you put the parts of this game together? (Make it click) What are the hidden secrets? (The golfing tricks?) The ones that can even impress chicks To the point where drool from their mouths drip! He was really tired of hitting those trees (To the delight of other players). To boost their glee! This wasn’t what he aimed for at the tee From him, success in this game, seems to flee! So many near-misses. (But his chances weren’t blown) Nowhere was failure written in stone! This was apparent. (As history has shown) As victory was won, when it seemed long gone! How could he increase his golfing ‘cred’? And earn some major golfing ‘bread’? At least to get the game to ‘tread’ Instead of sinking. (Weighted down with lead)! The success he craved was on delay Why couldn’t it be on time? (Maybe even stay). Why didn’t it want to come out and play? Why didn’t it want to join the fray?
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Golf Wears A Hood
This golf game expects you to bring the ‘goods’ But it steals your time, like it’s wearing a hood (Which doesn’t seem to spoil most golfers’ moods) At sunset, on the green, is where their feet stood. Some would describe his putting as draught Unfortunately, for now, it’s the best he’s got! He was the student here. (And golf ‘taught’!) Hopefully, it wouldn’t be all for naught! Those thoughts of past failures, he wanted to erase. Every last bad putt. (Every single trace!) For serious golfers, this could make one a ‘head-case’ The feeling that you’re behind everyone in the race! There was no way for him to reduce his craving His wife didn’t appreciate how he behaving. The constant ‘tee-time’; the endless raving! On the town with him, embarrassment she was braving! She put up a good front. (A fair fake pose) But her disgust for his obsession still shows. It was apparent. Un-mistakable. (Like some dark rose) Unfortunately, sometimes, that’s the way it goes.
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Stacked Against Her
He loved those ‘green holes’. (But to her, they were black) each one was against her. (An ‘eighteen-high’ stack!) What could she do against this formidable ‘rack’? And why did he love to run on this ‘track’? In golf’s ‘green arms’, he was like a kitty Alone, and unwanted, in the big mean city. And FINALLY, golf looked on him with pity! And from then on, this sport with joy, made him giddy! ”Why did he enjoy swinging that ‘staff’? ”What’s the appeal of playing with a ‘mast’? ”Makes no sense! What a laugh! ”The level of his IQ must be at half!” She didn’t like golf. (“But at least it was posh.”) His plan of getting her to play, was completely awash! At the merest hint of it, she was sure to squash! He didn’t want to ‘decorate’ the wall as a splotch! There wasn’t much compassion to be drawn from her ‘bank’ Indeed, there was just a drizzle, at the bottom of the ‘tank’ From her ‘granite face’, he often shrank Hoping, like a little boy, wouldn’t be spanked!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Golf’s Beat-Down
Deep within himself, he’d have to look Behind every rock. In every single nook. To find the secret, that would allow him to ‘cook’ That would propel him into the record books. Would failure, again, beat him to the punch? Would failure, again, eat his ‘lunch’? Savoring every bite. (Continuing to ‘munch’). Eating noisily, with every ‘crunch’! Was this entire sport simply beyond his reach? Did he not understand it’s language? It’s speech? Though he clung to it like a pond leach The going was tricky. (Like gulping down a peach!) Despite his best efforts, the golf game held the ‘chair’. And seemed to make sure, he couldn’t see his way clear. ’Singling’ him out, to a life of ‘despair’ Unless the ‘holes’ in his performance, could be repaired. Couldn’t blame anyone. (Not even dumb luck). That his chip shot needed work. (And his putting sucked)! It just got worse, as a speeding truck Was ‘kind enough’, to splash him with muck!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Are Other Golfers Just Better?
Other golfers seemed to flow, like a horses’ mane Time and again he asked, “Why can’t I do the same?” ’Twas like they drove fast cars. (And he, a crane!) He had other comparisons. (Too embarrassing to name)! They made good time; picking up ‘steam’. Their game practically shone. (Appeared to beam)! Could he ‘hook up’ with them? (Maybe join their team?) They’d allow him, wouldn’t they? They wouldn’t be mean. He knew that success, was NOT the luck of the draw. That it required you to operate certain laws. Not figuring out what they were, stuck in his ‘craw’ He’d have to build his ‘golf house’, with something stronger than ‘straw’! His club hadn’t ‘tasted par’ in a long time. (It was greedy) If it had a ‘face’, it would look ‘needy’. Didn’t want to cheat…it would look ‘seedy’ Like someone in a dark alley. (Eyes looking ‘beady’). There was no plea. (No weak excuse to ‘cop’) It is not possible, the truth, to top To explain why his game continued to drop Why little by little, his effectiveness was cropped!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Par…A Sly Fox
The game had him in it’s pocket’ He was not .plugged in’. (Couldn’t find the ‘socket’) Maybe he could get a good deal on his club if he ‘hocked it’ Because his playing didn’t take off like a rocket. Golfers watching, got his ‘goat’ The hand of embarrassment, clutched his throat. It was really too much for him to tote Like some ‘water-logged’ trench coat. Wouldn’t be so bad, if his emotions weren’t on his sleeve To the delight of mockers, they could see he was peeved. No time soon, would they choose to relieve This ‘onslaught’, because he failed to achieve. Par evaded him like a sly fox Seemingly, he had the IQ of a box of rocks! He had to make a change. (‘Pull up his socks’!) Even, (if need be), play ‘out of the box’. He definitely had to give new tactics a whirl. To avoid the label of ‘play like a girl’! Which he really hated. (It made him ‘hurl’!) Come what may, I rule that ‘golf pearl’!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (A rights reserved).

’Star Of Gold’
So that’s it! His mind was sold! He was determined to reach that ‘star of gold’! His concentration must be sharp. (His stroke bold). All distractions, put on hold. His ‘malnourished chip shot’, had to be fed Those pesky bogeys, put to bed! Those thoughts of failure…out of his head! Sooner or later, he’d find the ‘thread’! He knew past, rare successes, left the ‘door’ ajar Building on them, would take him far. Learn from the past. (But forget the ‘scars’) Otherwise, his future play, they were sure to mar. Why’d it take so long to ‘rule this ‘stone’? Maybe ‘twas the difficulty, in swinging that ‘bone’! No choice in the matter. (Skills must be ‘honed’) From here, on out, that would be the ‘tone’! He looked to days when things would get better To the past, he no longer wanted to be tethered. But the lesson was good. (And ‘rich’ like leather). Finally! (There was a ‘break in the weather)!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

After-Hours Play
Why did he enjoy hitting this ‘hard ball of cotton’? The desire for other sports, were all but forgotten. Like last week’s leftovers. (Spoiled and rotten) Other choices were valued at nothin’! To the course security guard, he was a pest Begging for after-hours play. (“Give it a rest!”) The guard had better control this quick, lest… This course became his ‘nightly nest’! To be turned down, would send him reeling Disappointment, like a pig, would send him squealing! His weak ‘cover stories’, were quickly peeling He must resort, to ‘wheeling and dealing’! Did this mean, more sophisticated lyin’? Would he be forced to offer a ‘stipend’? Maybe even some ‘girly-cryin’! One could not say he wasn’t tryin’. Hopefully his mind, a good idea, would ‘spit’ Maybe it would require him to sit. Because right now, his ‘light bulb’, wasn’t ‘lit’ There was not even the hint of a hint!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

After-Hours Play (Part Two)
Maybe there was no point in trying to beat this ‘dead horse’ After hours golf was out of reach. (Chalk up the loss). At this point, he even envied the course tree moss! At least THEY weren’t being discarded like ‘dross’! There must be some way to avoid this blather So he could put some time in, to hit the ball farther. This is definitely, what he would rather Perhaps, even a few pars could be gathered! Looked like continuing to plead with the guard, was just plain dumb! Like beating on a busted drum. In fact, it only seemed to make him numb As he looked at him, like he was a bum! The expression on his face, was one of steel That sent the message, “This was a finished deal!” This ‘fish’, could NOT be ’reeled’ He would not get, to enjoy this ‘meal’. The ‘fat lady’, was starting to ‘sound’ That baton, on the golfer’s head, he wanted to ‘crown’! No ‘happy ending’ here. (No lucky ‘rebound’)! This was the security guard’s ‘round’!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Golf ‘Threads’
Non-golfers saw his uniform as so drab He didn’t see it. (Thought their ‘taste’, needed ‘rehab’!) On the latest styles, he always kept tabs And did not hesitate, the best to grab. No one wanted to pick over the last of the ‘dregs’ (A good selection, he figured, was worth a leg!) Didn’t mind at all, wearing a ‘peg’ Would even throw in a ‘frat hose keg’! He loved that golfers always looked serene Always appearing so well preened. The supply of ‘sloppy’ players? (Always lean) He wanted to continue the tradition. (Looking clean). A better choice could not be made. (Even by his wife) She tried before. (But it ended in strife)! What was she thinking. (This was his LIFE)! He had to look good. (Not like MR. FIFE!) He may not be a great player, but he didn’t wear rags If players didn’t wear it, that was a red flag! (The ones his wife chose for him, had to be a gag!) Trousers and pants fit for a hag!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Golf ‘Threads’ (Part Two)
He needed clothes with some pizazz. (Some snap!) From his spiked shoes, all the way to his cap. Maybe some hot golf chick, will allow him to ‘rap’ This would not happen if he looked like a sap! Time to say goodbye to the ‘Stone Age’ But buying the best, required a top wage. Which always seemed, to be locked in a cage The thought of which, filled him with rage! His face stuck to the golf store window like glue The new stock, he felt compelled to view. They weren’t like his. (Rated ‘P.U”!) His envy continued to churn, in a festering ‘stew’! To not have that ‘gear’…how would he cope? For the foreseeable future, he’d continue to mope. Only some cash, would give him hope But that appeared lost in darkness, to grope He hated these states. (They took their toll) Next would come depression, on the ‘roll’. Probably ‘eating up the day whole’ Taking him lower, than the lowest mole.
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Trouble, This Way, Cometh
Before each swing, is time for pause With visions of how far it’ll soar Pity you didn’t remember to say, “FORE!” Someone’s been ‘clocked’ by a golf ball. (Oh yeah. It’s your’s!) They’re coming your way. (Muscles pumping ‘juice’) Was it possible to broker a truce? Was he headed for ‘death row’? (And a tightening noose?) That was much preferred to ‘bowels set loose!’ Would he beat on you like a ‘demented drummer’? Could you avoid the oncoming ‘slumber’? If only your head had own ‘bumper’! This day wouldn’t be such a bummer. His face was war-like! (That scary visage!) What are the chances he’d give you ‘safe passage’? Give him your clubs. (Throw in a massage) Flowers couldn’t hurt. (Make a corsage!) Think man! Think! (Something drastic!) (Unless you can avoid a vicious, fast hit!) A show of force, would only be ‘plastic’! That sandwich for lunch? (He was about to ‘cast it’!)
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Trouble, This Way, Cometh (Part Two)
Didn’t want others to think he was ‘yellow’ But what could he do about this ‘mad fellow’? How could he possibly make him mellow? While his brain turned to mush; (his knees were hollow) Why did fear cause such a ‘fog’? The gears weren’t turning. (Perhaps missing a ‘cog’). All ideas, (except running), were ALL ‘dogs’ Facing this guy, was like ‘corn facing hogs’! This was definitely a brawl in the making No excuse, this guy would be taking! Black eyes. Broken bones. (Are the plans he’s making)! This was REAL! (He wasn’t faking!) ’Health’ in jeopardy. (Situation ‘sticky!) Leg or arm first? (He wasn’t picky). He was looking to make a ‘mess’! (Nice and ‘icky’!) Plan simple and direct. (Nothing tricky). You couldn’t run. (The Warrior’s Code). Or was that just a ‘horse’s load’? Pressure to fight from onlookers goads Were all ignored, as you ‘hit the road’!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

A Very Good Day
A ”GOLFER TO THE END!”, is your pledge. Many would say you’ve ‘left the ledge’! And, “The game’s boring! (Like a bowl of veg’!) But you see excitement, in ‘clearing a hedge’! An eagle gives you an ‘after-glow’ Like some ‘headlight-caught’ doe! And a big, wide smile, is usually in ‘tow’ As birdie after birdie, you continue to flow. It couldn’t have been conveyed better by a mime. That you ‘consumed’ this golf game, like a well-dressed ‘swine’! Around your ‘heart strings’. (Well entwined) Renewed your youth, like a nursery rhyme! ’Golfing’, is definitely, your favorite verb No chance, your desire, would ever be curbed. To do so would mean, you had to be disturbed! You’ll stay in love, with the lush, ‘lawn herb’! But you can’t deny, you hate the sand! The traps, you feel, just ‘mar the land’! You’d remove them all, (if you ‘had a hand’) In designing this course, (that seemed ‘canned’)!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

The Rush It Gives You
These thoughts, of course, were all tongue-in-cheek Courses needed traps, like birds needed beaks! Say that now. (But when you’re game starts to wreak) You’ll change your tune. (When your eyes start to ‘leak’!) The rush it gives you. (You love the ‘taste’!) The power and passion surge, as the challenge you face! The golf game’s slow. (And you make no haste) As repeatedly, on this course, the same path you trace! On many occasions, you gave an outburst (You’ve made an art of ways to curse)! Bogeys on the eighteenth, were always the worst But never seem to ‘quench your thirst’! So much frustration, from such a small ball! Why couldn’t he CONTROL where it falls?! Those ruffs, always caused the golf game to ‘stall’ At the end, he’s no longer, walking tall! It beat him again. (Like some clueless tot) But occasional good games, improved his ‘lot’. Even if he scraped from the bottom of the ‘pot’ It’s always sweeter, once you’ve ‘fought’!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

This 20-Acre ‘Table’
He loved playing on this 20-acre ‘table’ (He’d stay here if he could just get cable!) And play all day long. (If he were able) But that’d make his wife’s pressure unstable! He saw no reason, why she hated this ‘turf’ ”Always complaining!” (EVEN when he slurped!) TV was no different at home. (When he ‘surfed’) Had loving this game, made him a jerk? Not in this lifetime! (In fact, never)! This golf game flavored life like salt and pepper! As do most things, that require you to be clever There’s no way, his ties to the club, he’d sever! All of his excuses were weak. (Everyone of them ‘hobbled’) No matter how noble. No matter how novel. ”Why…”, she thought, “…did he enjoy playing with this ‘bobble”? ”No bigger than a tennis ball! (Not even a ‘cobble’)! ”She’d understand, if she ever made the ball ‘take flight!” And the joy, as it finally dropped out of site! Then FINALLY put aside, this contentious blight As the game, to her, becomes less trite!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Broker A Truce
Could they come to a concensus? (Get this ‘ship’ off the reef?) Come together in unity, and squash this ‘beef’? Golf would no longer be blamed. (This ‘time-stealing thief’!) He was long over due, for some relief! Sometimes, he did come across as crass. (Telling all his friends, he’d ‘train’ this ‘little lass’!) Lame attempts to get her to play, would NEVER pass! He’d have to promise some ‘expensive glass’! But golf, to her, was about as exciting as lint! She’d NEVER agree to a trial ‘stint’. Not even if he could offer a mint One stern look….he’d get the hint! For her, time together; for him, time on the links, (they fought) Much ‘spirited dialogue’, this game in their house, had wrought! Who could have known it? Who would have thought? A painful lesson, in ‘domestic violence’, this had taught! Would they settle this? (‘Twas anyone’s guess) Their view, each side, would continue to press. More shouting in their future. (Definitely more stress) Did you really expect anything less?
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Golf’s Seductive Allure (Part Two)
It was easy for golf, this guy, to woo Time spent on the course, was plenty of proof! It had definitely scored ‘another coup’ ’Smooth talker’, with legendary moves! Golf made it feel like ‘Eternal May’ A stroll, with his wife, on the shore of the bay. No rain threatening. No skies grey A great slice of life, with a rich bouquet! Swinging that club, was an absolute joy! Wasn’t shy about it. (Didn’t try to be coy). Golf was his favorite, most wonderful toy A ‘time machine’, back to the days of a boy! With this game, he didn’t mind being a ‘glutton’ ’Dining on ‘holes’, like well-seasoned mutton. On rare occasions, he had this game ‘sewed up, and buttoned’ But most of the time, he had to keep on truckin’! This was when the game seemed a giant. (He the flea). Like his mid-section, meeting a fast-moving knee! To his buddies’ poorly-concealed glee Bogey after bogey, they didn’t hesitate, to decree!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Backstabbers
They were his friends. (But they could be finks) Saying loudly, “The game requires you to think!” Constant badgering, as they walked the links Even more so, when he ‘landed in the drink’! Didn’t like playing with a ball that was damp Even less, in those traps, where it loved to ‘camp’. If only there were a way, to use a ‘ramp’ Anything at all, his golf game, to ‘amp’! But how would he take his game up a notch? Every part seemed to need a ‘re-touch’. Guess the pros, he’d more carefully watch As he hated the sound of his ball going ‘splotch’! He needed to steal a technique. (Become a ‘bandit’!) No doubt he required, a really great gambit! Either he had to add to his repetoire…(Expand it) Or dump every bad one…(‘Can it’!) If not, his golf game would continue to teeter Though he hated the idea of being a cheater. But there were so many ahead of him. (Waaay behind the leader) His ‘ice-cold’ golf game, needed a heater!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Positive Digits In this game, he hated ‘positive digits’
Not difficult to get. (As his golf game was frigid). Especially since his stance was so rigid (Perhaps, due to back in school, being told not to fidget). Why were his shots so attracted to tree trunks? Perhaps he played with too much spunk. But even so, he was no ‘lunk’ Even though many thought he played like a drunk! He wanted to ‘grow’ his game. (But the ‘ground was fallow’). With his current techniques, the chances were narrow. If only he could hit the ball straight as an arrow Then he wouldn’t be ‘chasing’ terrified sparrows! All the good games he had, appeared to be flukes The mere thought of it, made him want to puke! But to him, none-the-less, the point was moot Because he gave the impression, he was ‘Golf’s Duke’! This game was a ‘real tease’. (Par…it loved to dangle). But he had to fight for them. (Each needed to be wrangled). Sometimes it was a ‘knot’, too big untangle He needed to master ALL of the game’s angles!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Golf Bandit
He had no problem being patient For he always knew, that this wasn’t his ‘station’. He wasn’t the worst player in this ‘golf nation’ Although often from this game, he needed a vacation! The game took his money. (But it was well spent) ”My new clubs were envied!”, was what he really meant. Not in a million years, would they ever be leant! (No matter how much frustration, his buddies would vent). He watched in envy at others’ scores fell. What was he doing wrong? (Couldn’t tell). Nothing came to mind. Nothing rang a bell. Hopefully, in the near future, his game would ‘gel’. Like I said, he kept up appearances. (Still a ‘cad’) Continued to act, like his play was ‘RAD”! Even when he practiced like ‘mad’ His score, to save face, he had to ‘pad’! Never once, an ‘eagle’, did he conceive Though that got him more than peeved. Hard work would take him to the eve Of one day, his goal to achieve.
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Golf ‘Piles’ Gauntlet’
Wherever golfers go, they’re followed by the ‘files’ Of people on the course, (in two big ‘piles’). A dangerous place to be. (On either side of the’green aisle’ That little, fast moving white ball, could ‘lay you up’ for weeks! No doubt, many-a-ball, have found a ‘port’ In the mouths of spectators, where they were ‘caught’! (At best, they were a few teeth short!) (At worst, their memories ‘were nought’!) Those in the crowd could pay a heavy ‘cost’ As golf balls weren’t the only things that were tossed! Broken clubs, from frustrated players who lost When their play was ‘bitten’ harshly by ‘frost’! At ‘talkative onlookers’, they could often be rude Making remarks that were vile and crude! Whenever players get in this mood Don’t take it personally. (Anger can make one lewd)! This is something that many don’t grasp Why players sometimes bite like asps! They’re trying hard, this game to grasp But sometimes need their knuckles ‘rasped’!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Golf ‘Piles’ Gauntlet’ (Part Two)
Amazingly, the people in the crowds, don’t cower From a ball hit in their direction, from the ’12 o’clock hour’! (You know it’s coming with a whole lot of power!) You’d think they’d seek the nearest ‘tower’! They’ll stay there, all right. (Like eggs guarded by a mother hen!) (Even if their injuries, needed weeks to mend!) Couldn’t pull themselves away. (Like crazy men) (Who needed a ‘padded cell’…for about ‘2 to 10’!) They didn’t mind. (That was their ‘gig’) And they ‘devoured it’, like a starving pig! For them, this was the way to ‘live’ No matter, an eye or two, they had to give! Perhaps, if they put up some type of screen Along both sides, on the borders of the green. However, in that case, attendance could be ‘lean’ When golfers swing their 9-iron ‘canes’! They were staying. (That choice was clear) This game was too precious. (Far too dear). Couldn’t stay away. (Had to be near) Where the ‘action was’. (Had to cheer!)
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Iron Grip
They would play golf, no matter the weather Golfers’ determination, is tough like leather. This was their playground. (Comrades together) ’Flocking’ to the green. (Like birds of a feather)! Away with them, this game had swept (With an iron grip, around the neck!) The obsession was no bother to them Heck! They’d even play, if the course were a wreck! This was the only game where they often wept (And in the next swing, cart wheeled and leapt)! The ‘story’ was all in the score they kept Pain or exhilaration, was in every step! May seem like an easy game. (Simple and sweet) (But don’t step into the ‘kitchen’, if you can’t stand the heat!) Bogeys will turn your face red like beets Sands will feel like you’re playing in peat! If you hit the links without a clue: Get used to being ‘shades of blue’! Not to mention stomach turning to ‘goo’ If the ball isn’t hit, straight and true!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

800 Pound Gorilla This course will ‘chew you up’ like gum
Unfortunately, with poor putting, there’s more to come! Even if the spectators remained ‘mum’ They’ll still think of you as a bum! There were days, of course, when you were on fire No one could touch you. (Like you were a brier!) No need to cheat today. (Forget being a liar) Maybe you could be a coach for hire. But you also knew when your game is in ‘the bowl’ Those ‘dirty traps’, had taken their toll! When it seemed even the ball, didn’t want to roll! No good ‘cards’ in your hand. (Time to fold!) This round of golf, should ‘rest in peace’ ”A miserable game!” is what you called the ‘deceased’. It was no use. (Those ‘gears’ couldn’t be ‘greased’) Better try again, when the sun rises in the East! Despite all your best swings. (Your best hits) Golf, like an 800lb gorilla on you, STILL sits! (I know, I know!) It’s the pits!) But FINALLY beating it, is WHY you LOVE this game to bits!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Golf’s ‘Dirty Three’
He had yet, any course, to really ‘tame’ (None of them were ready, to ‘say his name’!) They were the picture of beauty in a frame But had no respect for a ‘weak game’ The traps, the ruffs, the water hazards were a ‘crew’ That worked together, to place your game ‘in the loo’! Turning your world to shades of blue Every golfer ‘runs the gauntlet’! (Nothing new). This course always seemed to ‘enjoy a meal’ Of any golfer who seemed to feel That, to par, he could easily wheel and deal (Prepare for a shock, from this ‘green eel’!) It’s a course’s ‘job’ to resist A golfer’s ‘advances’, ‘til he desists. Long enough, and he’d get the gist That he’d soon be added to the ‘Quitters List’! Think well, BEFORE you approach the tee That first swing may START OFF with glee But will that feeling continue? (We’ll see) Won’t be long before your confidence flees!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

A Perfect Oasis
Will your golf game ‘run-a-ground’, on the ‘shoal’? Will your ‘present’ be par, or a lump of coal? Depends, of course, on how well you swing the ‘pole’ And, of course, how the ball rolls. But 2 over par, was what he was battin’ This, unfortunately, was a familiar pattern. He would love it, if golf and he, could get to ‘chattin’’ But it was like he spoke English, and golf Latin! He couldn’t believe his eyes, when he looked at these places A perfect setting for play. (A perfect oasis)! A place ‘locked in time’. (A never-ending ‘stasis’) But it’s cruel ‘personality’, didn’t match it’s elegant ‘graces’. The worst, you know, are all those sand grains They had to be EVERY golfer’s bane! And sometimes, even the best ‘cane’ Can’t prevent the ball, down it’s banks, to drain! No matter the golfer, the course, laid down the ‘law’ Some, which in the back of your mind, will always ‘knaw’. Often seen as scapegoats, when golfers stop and pause On why they lost. (“That had to be the cause!”)
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Caddie Conundrum
Is a caddie just someone workin’ hard? (Slavin’?) Or someone who helps the ball, find ‘safe haven’? Or preventing a golfer’s ‘confidence cave-in’? He does all these things, and more. (So don’t berate him). Helping the golfer to keep the ‘ledger’ Helping to ‘defuse’ the golfer’s ‘pressure’! A good caddie, is also a good way to measure If golf will ‘win’, or will you ‘edge her’? We focus so much, on the golf pro With his ‘little-known’ caddie, always in tow. If he had to carry his own bags, his game, he’d blow As his strength, as exhaustion grows. Golf pros dressed better, than beauty queens (While the caddie’s uniform ‘style’, seems so ‘lean’!) They continue to primp. Continue to preene As they walk the runway. (The golfing green)! No ‘coiture’ for the caddie. (No latest designs) To bland outfits, he’d have to resign! In terms of fashion, he was far behind Yet faithfully helping, those shots to align!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Caddie Conundrum (Part Two)
He was not allowed to say, the golfer’s game smelled like tuna Though he should have said something sooner. ’Cause any chance of winning this round, sailed away, like a schooner He THOUGHT he was hot. (But he was ‘sub-zero cooler’)! Some golfers hate to be corrected (without getting sore) So, on many occasions, he had to ignore Obvious mistakes, and decisions that were poor (Golfers can be head strong, like wild boars!) But they STILL tried to drop hints, when a game sucked…. ”Not bad…..Only eight people today had to duck!” (Still, he had to be cautious, cause the golfer was ‘quick to pluck’) A caddie’s job, if his attitude, he didn’t ‘tuck’! Even if the guy was scoring bogeys ‘by the pack’ Caddies had to be quiet. (Though his nerves were ‘taxed’! No comments. (Or he’d have to make tracks) He’d have to grin and bare, that the game had ‘taken a lax’! This is just another ‘slice of life’. (A ‘Caddie’s Fillet’) Ignoring crazy ideas, and stupid plays. This was his choice…his ‘Caddie’s Way’! He’d have to,…if he wanted to get PAID!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Cool Commentators
Do golf commentators, to you, seem a little too calm? Like they could do a flower no harm! Did they attend a special school for charm? Like in the face of danger, they’d show no alarm! Like golfers, they do dress great. (Love the twill) I’m sure many copy their look. (Think I will). Nothin’ wrong, with lookin’ like a mil’ Top of the world. King of the hill! But that ‘personality thing’, still continues to ‘grate’! It could be something you’d love to hate. No one’s really THAT sedate, right? (Must be something they ate). If so, go ahead and fix me a ‘plate’! What would golf be like, if there were nothing said? Where sub-titles, allowed their commentary to read. Then on ‘pure golf action’, we could be fed Sometimes, commentary ‘weighs the game down’, like lead! They often over-analyze, EVERY roll of that ‘egg’! Hoping every and all mistakes to peg! ’Til the last putt of the game. (Every dreg!) They won’t let go. (Like a pit bull on your leg!)
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved)..

Golf’s’ Family Crest’
Par, from bogeys, you try to wrest That should be the slogan, of our ‘Golf Family Crest’! This is one of golf’s major tests You’ve got to pass it, if you want to be the best. Bet you’ve never seen a ‘sweating tree’ You will. (When a golfer gives his ‘decree’!) ”FORE”!, is what he yells with glee All nearby plants then, wish from the earth, they were free. Shouting, “FORE!”, was sorta rare. But even more numerous, was when you’d hear them swear! Not that, ‘in the heat of battle’, they really cared AS long as the winner’s crown, they got to wear! Any golfer can be a source Of this display of frustration…’The Golfer’s Dross’! Just listen carefully as you walk the course It’s bound to come across with force. Golfers are driven to play, for their ‘supper’ For a trophy of gold. (Or even one of copper). Whether rough and ugly. (Or prim and proper) Everyone’s hopin’, to land a ‘topper’!
Copyright by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Sport’s Biggest ‘Con’
It has always been, the ‘golfer’s plight’ To control the path of the ball’s flight. To know the ins and outs, of the golf course site Their own future, in golf, they hope to write. Difficult goals to achieve, because as yet…. Most players are STILL, golf’s ‘subservient pets’! More accurately referred to, as a golfer’s ‘vet’ After ‘face to face’, both had met! Many leave golf’s presence a wreck Something to ‘flick off it’s shoulder’. (Dandruff flecks!) (This game wasn’t rocket science. (No high tech) So far from eagle. (Nothing but specks)! Who’s using whom, here? Who’s the pawn? Some golfers come to the course with plans well drawn. Don’t be deceived by the simplicity of this ‘lawn’ In sports, it’s one of the ‘BIGGEST CONS!’ Many golfers’ eyes, stand out on stalks When they can’t seem to control this ‘little rock’! Especially with all the habits, that try to ‘block’ And bogeys at your door, that never ‘knock’!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

The Golfer Vs. Golf
Golf is really not too kind to ‘strangers’ Many-a-game, had to be rescued by a ‘ranger’. Crocodiles, in water hazards, was rarely a danger More often, were the golfers’ fits of anger! The golfer versus Golf. (Both flaring ‘tusks’!) Like two male elephants in ‘must’. Both showing their strength. (Shaking off ‘rust) This is great confrontation. (This is ‘just’). After playing the game, you are quickly ‘sold’ That it’s much more difficult, than you’ve been told! The game has a long history. (Relatively old) But not as long as the trek you have to reach gold! With a huge build in frustration. (With a great sigh) You really want to know. (To ask it directly, “Why!”) ”Ball! How come you always seem to come so nigh… …to the hole, but rarely drop in?…Do you even TRY!” To the unskilled, golf is this great hulk. That always frustrates, and makes them sulk. That more often than not, beats their confidence to a pulp! Using that ‘stick’, golfers call a club.
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Fight OR Flee
Was there some guarded secret? (Some hidden trick?) Why was this game, so difficult to ‘lick’? (Perhaps he had made the wrong sports pick) You can get behind so very quick! These golf balls were stubborn. (Didn’t obey the stick) No doubt, many-a-time, they were kicked! During a bad game, you can hear seconds tick Like a flame, slowly eating a candle on a wick. No joke, my friend. (This game had bite) This only added to the golfer’s plight. With tooth and nail, you’ll have to fight (You might be better off, flying a kite!) A weak show of bravado. (A huff and puff) Won’t help you here. (Golf will test you stuff!) You’ll see for yourself. (When you land in the ruff!) And you’ll quickly know, when you’ve had enough! Fight or flee. Play or fold. ’Tis no place for wimps! (This game’s cold!) It’ll take more than being bold! Don’t say you weren’t warned! (You’ve been told!)
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

Quitters Quit
The formula for winning was quite a brew And many golfers found themselves in quite a ‘stew’! There were, of course, master chefs. (Quite a few) This was the game’s history. (Nothing new). Why then, did many still think golf was their ‘type’? Did they think talent could just be swiped? Any smile on your face, will be quickly ‘wiped’ Quitters quit, when the time is ‘ripe’. After several rounds, golf was still on the ‘throne’ ’Losing’, was to which, most gofers were prone. Many had to settle for ‘a hat shaped like a cone’! Usually that’s the ‘station’, of those, who can’t master ‘the bone’!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All rights reserved).

GOLF TRAINING
This time, I want to talk about an issue that really caught my attention one night while channel-surfing. I saw these strange looking contraptions/devices/machines/… (whatever you want to call them)……on several infomercials, that were designed to (so they claim) to improve your golf game. I had to smile,..er… Burst out laughing is more like it! So, I figured that since I was putting a blog together, this would be one of the first issues I’d discuss. Those infomercials were what really started me thinking about golf comedy and sports humor in general. So here it is….. GOLF TRAINING When done within reason, can step-by-step, slowly over time cut down that mountainous barrier of inconsistency, forced errors and ”bunker-bombing” (just invented that phrase….at least as far as I know). ;-] (lol) That’s a GOOD THING. However……… The market today is littered with mountains of training programs, gadgets and gurus.

”Get this book! It’ll knock four strokes off your game!” ”Buy my course! It’ll leave your golf buddies’ eyes popping out of their heads!” Take this pill! It’ll train you for the tour WHILE YOU SLEEP!” ARE YOU KIDDING ME!! Don’t get me wrong. There are a few programs on the market worth their weight in gold. They ACTUALLY DELIVER what they promise in their advertising. (What a refreshing concept!!) Many others are just ridiculous. I’ve seen several training methods that require you to get into some odd-looking contraption (that looks like some astronaut training device for space exploration)! Your head points in one direction, arms in another direction, one leg straight, the other at some unknown angle. The back is arched, eyeballs looking in opposite directions (just kidding about that last one). ;-] BUT YOU GET THE POINT! I didn’t think it was possible for a human being to get in that position! (It would take an army of surgeons about two weeks to get me in that pose!) Come on people! Is the game of golf really so hard that we need all of these gadgets and tons of gear? (Like a golf club….that ACTUALLY BREAKS!?! ….golf balls designed so that they practically grow wings to give you better control over it’s flight path….. computer-related handheld devices using satellite/GPS technology to give you everything from wind speed/direction, humidity,

contour of land, orders you take-out, gives stock quotes, provides online dating, etc! Thousand dollar/hour golf lessons? The way things are going now, that could very well become a reality! (I shudder to think of it). This is getting a little ridiculous, don’t you think? Think back to a simpler time…when the ‘PROs of OLD’ walked the green. And some of them STILL DO, (thank goodness)! Look at the old photos. Few golf carts! No GPS! No state-of-theart golf clubs and golf balls! JUST THE PURE LOVE OF THE GAME and DETERMINATION DROVE THEM TO THE HIGHEST ESCHELLONS OF GOLF MASTERY. They relied more on the skill of their inner game and the desire to be the best, rather than gadgets and contraptions. (Which have their place, mind you. But there is a danger that we come to rely on them too much….like a toddler relies on a comfort blanket. An over-reliance on ‘machines’ signals a distraction from the fun and love of the game of golf……a ‘TO WIN AT ANY COST’ mindset. YES, I know…….with the proliferation of tournaments, and millions of dollars up for grabs,….Any little edge counts! You did not enter the world of golf as ‘part-man, part-machine’. You are 100% human being with a simple love of the game. Let’s get back to that!
Copyright 2007 by Kevin D. Rolle. (All Rights Reserved)

REMINDER
Thanks for reading. Remember to check out my golfrelated website for even MORE golf humor at: http://www.golf-humor-asylum.com/ By the way, VOLUME TWO of this ebook is now in the works! So look out for that one in the coming months!


				
Patricia Johnson Patricia Johnson Management Consultant
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