Golf-Slow Torture by Handicap
Golf is such a silly game
The less you play it-The greater the fame
But not alas for your average punter
Who stalks the long grass, more like a hunter.
He really isn't playing at all
Half the time he's looking for his ball.
Head always moving(if not hanging in shame)
The ball stays still, so the players to blame.
As more and more strokes we amass
Mainly playing from the longest grass
Temper flaming and words quite blue!
Are you sure this is the game for you?
The just one shot, that you do not thin
And look! Your nearest the pin
Bringing the fame that you seek
Ensuring your return, and the dream
That you will do better - next week!!!
poem by Keith Oldrey
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Best Mans Story
Marriage is for when you find
A lover to share your life and mind
A friend, who without a doubt
You cannot possibly live without.
Someone who will love and care.
Be upset, when you are not there.
Someone who makes you laugh
May be serious, may be daft
You don't care, there is no reason.
When Cupids arrows are in season.
Here on your Wedding Day
A little advice to measure and weigh
'How can you measure Love?
Pounds, feet or litres'
Love cannot be checked, there are no meters.
Like a car, sometimes fast, sometimes slow
But without some fuel, it sure won't go!
Don't worry. the fuel is cheap
Kisses, Morning, noon, and before you sleep
A kiss and a cuddle, I' sure I can say
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poem by Keith Oldrey
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A Poets Hope
How we long to reach the shelf
Currently held by the poetic wealth
Shelley, Keates. Byron & Poe
Amongst those names we’d like to go
Love and description
A verbal prescription
Cured by Heaney, McGeogh & Cope
We try so hard & pray & hope.
Rhymes may come & we fear
We can never compete with Shakespeare
Yet with couplet descriptions, we can
Compete with Milligan & Betjeman
What is the magic potion
Leading to the fame of Alex Motion
How do the stanzas of Ted Hughes
Continue to sell and top the news
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poem by Keith Oldrey
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Some Dress The Part
Plus fours, flashy sweaters and electric carts
Its golf, so you must dress the part
Carbon fibre clubs with big heads and a lob wedge
Must surely give us the edge
When coupled with balls from Calloway
And others guaranteed to fly away
That claim to avoid both slice and fade
Which no dimple invented yet can evade.
To play each hole with no regrets
Keeping strokes to requested index
It’s all so easy we can see
If only it applied to me.
Should I think of all the rules
Or maybe join all the other fools
Who only just strike the ball
And never seem in trouble at all.
Positive thinking seems to be
The measure which works best
A smashing thunder strike I see
Could remove all problems from my brain
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poem by Keith Oldrey
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