Thanks for visiting again or for the first time. As you may know (from reading this Blog) I’ve recently published a book called If Golf Balls Could Talk – Collected Golf Poems (available on Amazon). Here is a poem from the book that tells a familiar story:
HE TALKS A GOOD GAME
He talks a good game
You know the guy
He judges each swing
With a critical eye.
He talks a good game
Awash with advice
He’s off to the races
When he sees you slice.
He talks a good game
He studies the pros
He is eager to tell you
All that he knows.
He talks a good game
Can he turn a phrase
He talks a good game
But it’s not how he plays.
He talks and he talks
With eyeballs that glisten
But even the duffers
No longer listen.
If you’ve met this guy, you are welcome to share the experience in the comments section.
Golf Course of Rhymes 
I too am a golfing poet – at 91. Here’s a sample:
THE ‘BACK NINE’ OF LIFE
In golf we hope to finish strong,
Make all our shots – both short and long –
Sink all our putts, do little wrong.
That makes us whistle, sing a song.
In real life, though, it’s not like that.
It’s more like “Casey at the Bat.”
Our ‘game’ with time will wane, fall flat.
We’ll give it up, nurse hurts, grow fat.
The weather, too, will play a role.
More days will seem too hot, too cold.
Or, fairways, greens – too wet, too dry.
Good days for golf, seldom come by.
It’s also sad, when one plays bad,
Though ‘great’ game, can’t say, ever had.
Was score-wise mostly near to last,
Yet few could launch bad shots as fast.
So, golf we’ll play, right to the end,
So long as we can swing, walk, bend.
No better way our money spend,
No better place to make a friend.
Rolland Amos, Severn MD, 2022