NFLD Poem 2006

I hold your creamy face in my hand so mild
And I am mesmerized by each and every dimple
I swear that today I will drive you wild
But we know, my love that it is not that simple

I smile and place you gently, on your favorite resting place
A simple bed for your rotund shape
It fits you to a tee, and I delight in your grace
That I will do such things to you in this landscape

My power I am renowned for, my torque, my twist
And as I coil, for you I am Taylor made
So I unleash myself with steady hand and wrist
But you veer off unto the left and my hopes fade.

You Hooker!
I’m in a pressure cooker
You asked me to grip it
You asked me to rip it
But the harder I pushes
The deeper I’m in the bushes
And thanks
to my shanks
I may have lost you forever
In the moss and the heather

Oh Callaway, Callaway
I call your sweet name
Why have you runaway?
I’ll bring my A-Game

I wish that you would call out to me
“I’m over here, Wilson” why can’t you see?
I want to be found
I’m not out of bounds
I’m sitting here, lost, under a tree

And on my hands and knees, I see you lay
Cowering beneath a flowering maple
But you laugh at me and say “you are still away”
I will reach you if I am able.

From our wooded tryst I drop you … softly
Perchance to make it to the dance floor – to waltz
We connect dear one a little lofty
The tiger wakes and sees no faults
But zealous – great might in the hands
We sail past the floor, to groomed sands

Stop Spin Stop
AAArgh! Of course I take the drop
For green I cannot see
for giant maple trees

The tiger’s might be true
I swing and then I chunk her
The tally will accrue
As you rest inside the bunker
Oh yes you have got legs
But you lie there like Fried eggs

Thought I struck a gritty sitter
But hitter’s pretty bitter
Jungle to kitty litter

I see you nested there basking in morning rays
And with slight waggle and a twitch
I swing to touch you with a graze
I will Singh with perfect pitch

You are set to fly away to snuggle on the green
I call to you and want you to be sweet
You’re in lonely pause mid-air, my queen
And with regal spin you roll back to my feet

Why must you always find the sand
It’s as though you had it planned
I slog with twist and spasm
To release you from the chasm
Yet you play me for a cad
Or attempt to drive me mad
In looking firm and strong
You’re streeling me along

Slash… slog… whiff…chop
I will not take another drop
Finally… a flier
To release us from the mire

To the end dear heart we will consort
To see the love we share is true
And if I come up a little short
You’ll still watch with ahh and ooh
Ah yes, from the sands to flattened grass
And our journey continues to the pin
A pirouette and light chasse
Until you lightly trickle in

I choose to never pronounce defeat
(I can still save a stroke on my sheet)
I take my time but still you break
I scream the words I can’t repeat
I’ve broken clubs and thrown a rake
Why do you hate me with such passion
To awaken ugly ramp and storm
Have you lost all your compassion
To leave me in this furied form

Oh lass you’ve made it to the cup
And proud I stand above your gaze
Reaching in to snatch you up
Adorn you with a worthy praise
For now we move to number two
A dog-leg left – our dance renewed

Yes! Yes! Yes! She’s in the hole
I knew that I would be just fine
Using poise and self-control
You da man – the day is mine!