I've been trying to think of a great poem for the LPGA, seeing that things are in such an uproar lately... Okay, here it goes;
Si Ra.... uhm.... wait let me try again....
kim sum lee..... err, uhm, that won't work.... uhm....
Gees... sum ding wong.... I think I'll have to work on this a bit!
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
British Open Poem
As promised, I wrote a few verses each day for the British Open. It was an amazing adventure and if Watson would have won, I'm sure the record would have lasted at least 27 more years... until Tiger turns 60!
Thursday, July 16, 2009
British Open 2009
Day One:
The angst, the wind, the weather fair
In British Open terms deemed rare
Jimenez leads the field at six
In the absence of Mother Nature’s tricks
Tom Watson won his second here
And became an adopted son
At fifty-nine, he still showed game
Five under at day One
And in the pack lurks Monty
Camilo, Vijay, and Boo
There’s lots of golf still yet to play
At Turnberry on day two.
Day Two:
As whitecaps marked the Scottish Seas
The field grew weak with shaking knees
A bogey here, a double there
On top today, an unlikely pair
Tom Watson stood his ground this day
with even par and a will to play
Marino's in because others bowed out
And now at 5 under, he's erasing all doubt
Calc moved up, and Fisher did too
Tiger, Monty, and Weir were through
Goosen, Jimenez, and Vijay are there
Awaiting a falter, from the unlikely pair
Day Three:
Ivor Robson squeeked his name out loud,
For some 30 Opens before
Who would know that by day's end,
Tom would lead the group at 4
The wind kicked up on "moving day,"
And move they did, most moved away
But Goggin gained against the pack
While Marino, Jimenez and Calc fell back...
An Open Sunday this will be...
The old, the young, the destiny
So many close, right in the mix
But only one can make it SIX.
Sunday
The Gods of golf spoke loud today
They first gave hope, then stole away
A chance for age to rival youth
and answer for all time, a truth
That it matters not the years on you
but most important, it's what you do
Whether first or last... it's all the same
The true winners are those who played the game
Thanks to Tom Watson for the ride!
The angst, the wind, the weather fair
In British Open terms deemed rare
Jimenez leads the field at six
In the absence of Mother Nature’s tricks
Tom Watson won his second here
And became an adopted son
At fifty-nine, he still showed game
Five under at day One
And in the pack lurks Monty
Camilo, Vijay, and Boo
There’s lots of golf still yet to play
At Turnberry on day two.
Day Two:
As whitecaps marked the Scottish Seas
The field grew weak with shaking knees
A bogey here, a double there
On top today, an unlikely pair
Tom Watson stood his ground this day
with even par and a will to play
Marino's in because others bowed out
And now at 5 under, he's erasing all doubt
Calc moved up, and Fisher did too
Tiger, Monty, and Weir were through
Goosen, Jimenez, and Vijay are there
Awaiting a falter, from the unlikely pair
Day Three:
Ivor Robson squeeked his name out loud,
For some 30 Opens before
Who would know that by day's end,
Tom would lead the group at 4
The wind kicked up on "moving day,"
And move they did, most moved away
But Goggin gained against the pack
While Marino, Jimenez and Calc fell back...
An Open Sunday this will be...
The old, the young, the destiny
So many close, right in the mix
But only one can make it SIX.
Sunday
The Gods of golf spoke loud today
They first gave hope, then stole away
A chance for age to rival youth
and answer for all time, a truth
That it matters not the years on you
but most important, it's what you do
Whether first or last... it's all the same
The true winners are those who played the game
Thanks to Tom Watson for the ride!
Monday, July 6, 2009
Payne (1957-1999)
(I was moved to write this the day Payne left us)
At Pinehurst he drew from the depths of his heart
The course was his canvas, his game was his art
In four days of grinding, he alone stood the test
and rose to the rank of the best of the best
No, it wasn't his knickers that defined his great game
And it wasn't his antics that gave him his fame
But a dogged pursuance and talent so fine
A master of irons and reading his line
A goodwill ambassador everyday of the week
A man who possessed that which so many seek
To be taken so soon for the front nine of life
We mourn with his family, his children and wife
We'll miss you Payne Stewart, you've given so much
We'll miss your impressions, your God given touch
We'll remember the Sundays, the crowds as they roared
And know you're on top of God's leader board....
At Pinehurst he drew from the depths of his heart
The course was his canvas, his game was his art
In four days of grinding, he alone stood the test
and rose to the rank of the best of the best
No, it wasn't his knickers that defined his great game
And it wasn't his antics that gave him his fame
But a dogged pursuance and talent so fine
A master of irons and reading his line
A goodwill ambassador everyday of the week
A man who possessed that which so many seek
To be taken so soon for the front nine of life
We mourn with his family, his children and wife
We'll miss you Payne Stewart, you've given so much
We'll miss your impressions, your God given touch
We'll remember the Sundays, the crowds as they roared
And know you're on top of God's leader board....
For Love of the Game
(Written in 1997 upon Davis Love's PGA victoy at Winged Foot Golf Club)
The winged foot monster ate well it seems
A diet of bogeys, doubles, and dreams
Just one stood strong armed only with his game
And each demon he faced, he alone overcame
He strode the course and with each shot
Collected a piece of what was not
His will was fueled by a consistent cut
Each fairway he hit, each uphill putt
And with his brother there by his side
He sowed the seeds of family pride
And witnessed it was from the great course above
As history was written by this son.... Davis Love
The winged foot monster ate well it seems
A diet of bogeys, doubles, and dreams
Just one stood strong armed only with his game
And each demon he faced, he alone overcame
He strode the course and with each shot
Collected a piece of what was not
His will was fueled by a consistent cut
Each fairway he hit, each uphill putt
And with his brother there by his side
He sowed the seeds of family pride
And witnessed it was from the great course above
As history was written by this son.... Davis Love
In the Locker Room, I heard Phil Tellin' Ernie
(written a few years ago)
Let's ban wearing red, let's cut down the rough
Make him fire Steve, and hire back Fluff
There's gotta be something when it's all said and done
To give us a chance to be number one!
Let's focus our minds and get in a zone
Let's workout in secret and dine all alone
Let's get some more practice and quit playing cards
Maybe mine a few fairways at 300 yards!
How can one person perfect every shot
How can his game be so perpetually hot?
Every week on the course he shows us still more
It's hard to believe this kid's twenty-four!
He's shattered the records, our spirits as well
We're still playing great but our scores look like hell
And though we can't beat him, one thing is for sure
We love getting rich here on Tiger Wood's tour!
Let's ban wearing red, let's cut down the rough
Make him fire Steve, and hire back Fluff
There's gotta be something when it's all said and done
To give us a chance to be number one!
Let's focus our minds and get in a zone
Let's workout in secret and dine all alone
Let's get some more practice and quit playing cards
Maybe mine a few fairways at 300 yards!
How can one person perfect every shot
How can his game be so perpetually hot?
Every week on the course he shows us still more
It's hard to believe this kid's twenty-four!
He's shattered the records, our spirits as well
We're still playing great but our scores look like hell
And though we can't beat him, one thing is for sure
We love getting rich here on Tiger Wood's tour!
If you steal my poems...
All of what you read on this blog is original. Read it, enjoy it, you can borrow it, but please ask and give the author due credit. If you don't... I'll hunt you down and batter you about with my one iron. I actually have no other use for it.
Tiger's Tournament 2009
The children were many, our soldiers there too
And homage was paid to Earl's Company Two
A young man named Tony played straight from his heart
He fell short on his game but he'll learn from this start
A Hunter came forth and tied the record this day
He posted a score and then waited to play
But out on the course, A Tiger drew near
With patience and purpose, his focus so clear
As he strode down the 18th, a soldier did ride
So close in spirit, and both brothers in pride
This young warrior, limbless, a reminder to all
That golf is a game, next to him, it is small...
The children were many, our soldiers there too
And homage was paid to Earl's Company Two
A young man named Tony played straight from his heart
He fell short on his game but he'll learn from this start
A Hunter came forth and tied the record this day
He posted a score and then waited to play
But out on the course, A Tiger drew near
With patience and purpose, his focus so clear
As he strode down the 18th, a soldier did ride
So close in spirit, and both brothers in pride
This young warrior, limbless, a reminder to all
That golf is a game, next to him, it is small...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)