South Eastern Seniors Golf Association

Poetic Page


I started playing this game, it was late in life,

It took that long, to get permission from the wife.

I was given some clubs, and a sleeve of balls,

Began playing golf, it was late in the fall.

Soon joined the seniors, played the eastern part of the state,

It was the only known way, we could get a reduced rate.

Tuesday and Thursdays, are all filled up,

The days we hit the ball, in that four-inch cup.

We all know the rules, of this gentleman's game,

I cannot understand, why we do not play the same.

It was not very long, until we learned this fact,

That many cannot add, but they sure can subtract.

They kick it - they place it, use a mulligan or two,

It is not in the rule book, for me or for you.

It is hard to understand, the things that are done,

To get a low score, and to think that we won.

So many times, I have heard "I quit",

They throw down their club, and fling a little fit.

The cursing and swearing, after a lousy shot,

Is it hard to understand, they deserve what they got?

We hit the ball in water, a sand trap or two,

Pass around a little toddy, and we still are not through.

We hit it in yards, and often a street,

Some miss it completely, it is under their feet.

They approach it once more, with a sheepish grin,

"That was only a practice shot, I will swing again."

Get to the green, we get ready to putt,

Many get nervous, as they light up a butt.

So many excuses, are heard on this spot,

One can understand, when they three-putt a lot.

The ball is picked up, whe have heard "gimme" before,

There is one thing they forget, is add a stroke to the score.

After the game, all the score cards turned in,

The results are posted, with an occasional grin.

We all sit down, to a game-ending meal,

Friends we are, we share what we feel.

On the way home, the game we discuss,

We keep coming back, we feel that we must.

There is one thing we strive for, before it's all done,

Is to take a mighty swing, and score a hole in one.

SESGA Poet Laureate Doug Hunter