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listen -
hear no sound, feel
only wind on its way, ghostly
nothings, but hush to sharp wings
of ocean birds so fraying as they cut
the sky, shuttle to fairways, far aways,
in plaintive cries, i hear what they say,
sailing into the jeweled skylights, but i
am only weight of air, still on ground,
i mumble out, sidle the bone tides
that roll to land, grains of clarity,
i am mist and tear, a world
of hollow, i am that sound -
of ocean in a shell.
David Plantinga Mar 2024
Though cue-***** are glossy and smooth
The felt has been rough since my youth.
Some dimples assist
When fairways resist
But putting on tables is uncouth.
Anais Vionet Apr 14
Lisa and I played a round of frisbee-disc golf today—let’s reminisce.

I love the ‘live performance’ of sports, how you must physicalise
discipline. You get this instant feedback that you have to own and
lean hard into. The being present to adjust, the internalised mechanisms of performance—the ‘liveness’—is the most exciting thing about sports. And, of course, the one who does it best wins—there’s a simplicity to it.

Being Sunday, the course was crowded with guys. Most of the groups were college teams of five or six guys. Since there were only two of us, we were playing faster.

I don’t like going up to a group of guys and asking to play through.
They always let us but we get these appraising looks—not strictly golf related—that you can feel. So we skipped around the guys and played open holes—still playing 18—they just weren't contiguous and it took a bit longer.

It was great to get out in the sun. The course was all rolling fairways, there’s no grass greener and no sky bluer. I came in 14-under (straight brag). I’m a little competitive, my ego loves to be placed in a hierarchy, and winning seems to give form to me, it’s such a pleasant and coherent narrative.

As we were leaving our escort Charles stepped away for a minute and a couple of Yale looking guys offered us a ride back to campus—which was all very innocent and chivalrous—to save us waiting for an Uber or something—I'm sure (we were all sweaty and looked like drowned rats).
‘Sure,’ I thought, ‘let’s run off into the sunset.. not.’
But I said, “No, thanks, anyway.”
.
.
Songs for this:
Golden Boys by Res
Fruitcake by Subsonic Eye
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 04/13/25:
Reminisce = talk, think, or write about things that happened in the past.
Tyler Matthew Aug 2018
we don't sleep much around here.
the nights are too precious to squander.
we wander streets and alleys,
fields and fairways, looking at the moon,
begging the sun to never come up again.
drunk in our ways, in our loves and hates,
feeling with broken fingers
for broken hearts to mend.
when we find one, we keep it hidden.
we shut off the lights to make love,
moon dangling above our pillows,
smoke billowing out the window
to show we are done.
and we don't sleep much around here.
we make secrets of ourselves.
I used to be a golfer once
But, now I am a hack
I swing around a waist of jello
I only play the middle tees
I used to play the back
I only use ***** that are yellow

My game is up on the shelf
I don't know why
And I only play golf by myself
It's no lie
I wish I still could play, I wish that I could play
I wish that I could play, someone else

I used to have a short game once
I used be real good
(Where do you think you might have lost it?)
I used to have no fear at all
I knew all that I should
(Is it with your sand wedge, where you tossed it?)

My game is up on the shelf
I don't know why
And I only play golf by myself
It's no lie
I wish I still could play, I wish that I could play
I wish that I could play, someone else

I used to split the fairways boys
I used to sink the putts
(What ever happened to the feeling?)
I can't hit a **** fairway now
I only hit wide cuts
(It's enough to send my mindset reeling)

My game is up on the shelf
I don't know why
And I only play golf by myself
It's no lie
I wish I still could play, I wish that I could play
I wish that I could play, someone else

Now, I am afraid most days
I can't hit it off the ground
I only hit well when I drink some
I know each tree out on our course
I know the ball hits tree bark sound
I only play good when I've got ***

My game is up on the shelf
I don't know why
And I only play golf by myself
It's no lie
I wish I still could play, I wish that I could play
I wish that I could play, someone else

I used to be a golfer once
I wish I still could play
I wish so hard for that sweet feeling
I once was good
But not today
If I could find Diablo, I'd be dealing

But, my game is up on the shelf
And it's funny
How, I play only by myself
No money
I wish that I could play
I wish that I could play
I wish that I could play like myself
John F McCullagh Feb 2013
He still is strong and handsome
as he was in his playing days.
He can enjoy a game of golf
on challenging fairways.
Still he knows that somethings gaining
and he dare not look behind.
Even Michael Jordan knows
you cannot outscore time.
It doesn't seem that long ago
he wore a champion's ring.
Now Lebron is all the rage
and commercials are his thing.
No longer can he rise above
the rim, or run and hide.
Time just posted 50 up
and it isn't on his side.
his star is on the rise again
he's the king of the fairways and greens
he has revitalized the golfing game
he holds the number one position
he's the premier player of the world
his fans are really wrapped
his name is in all the sports pages
he's back to slay his rivals
Francie Lynch Apr 2015
I've weighed the pranks:
Pulling out a chair;
Flooded fairways;
Skunky beer;
Onion candy apples;
Mayo in cream-filled donuts;
Lubricating jelly in handwash;
Polyurethaning soap;
Baking soda in ketchup bottles;
Flushing while the shower's in use;
Sending a welcome card on behalf of your friend to Kingdom Hall;
Eliot was right,
Snow in April is the cruelest.
****, it's snowing here today. So cruel.
Anais Vionet May 2022
It’s 8am on an overcast Wednesday morning, Leong and I are about halfway through a round of frisbee golf. Half of the holes on this course wind through dense, hilly woods, but as we climbed a hill toward the 9th hole we left the woods, with its green forest canopy, for the open fairway.

That’s when the first, fat, high-velocity raindrops hit us. They made a tiny popping sound and left small, dark, bullet-hole water-stains on our quick-drying activewear. I wasn’t thinking about the weather, at that point, we’d been under a forest roof, protected from the wind and elements.

I’m so competitive, up until this point my eyes, my entire mind had been focused on the course, the game, the next shot, the angles and the par.

As the oldest sibling in her family, Leong can be a little bossy - but in a nice way. She “older sisters” me sometimes (she’s ten months older). When we’re at school, I abandon myself to her happily because she studies a LOT - something we have in common - and I know she’s always got one eye on the clock.

Leong has an uncanny knack of knowing precisely what to do, where to go, and when. I’m used to going second with her, following, sure that she has everything ordered, in her head, in such a way that the world around us never disintegrates into disorder.

As we topped the hill, overlooking a broad landscape of golf-course-sculptured green, dotted with trees arranged as obstacles, I realized that Leong kept turning around - was something happening?

I started looking around too and focusing more carefully. The trees along the fairways were flailing in the wind, making a collective rustling and shushing sound, as if to get our attention. The forest canopy we just left was an ocean of violently rolling green.

The sky immediately behind us was lower, weighted down with purple-edged black clouds that covered the sky like restless, moving bruises. In front of us, the sky was open, the sunlight still dazzling, but that brightness was quickly receding, as if fleeing the suffocating storm that was pressing in.

Thunder erupted as if freed by our attention and there were sparks of lightning in that menacing, fairy-tale darkness. I looked at Leong, her expression was new to me. Her eyes were narrowed, her knees slightly bent, like a surfer seeking balance and she was licking her lips as she twisted nervously around.

Suddenly, wordlessly, she took my hand and gave me an irresistible tug. I found myself running, unwillingly at first, towards the parking lot - about a quarter mile away. She was squeezing my hand hard. Is it possible that she’s afraid, I wondered?

The clouds were just behind us now, and a thick wall of rain, that looked like a cartoon curtain, obscured the fairway in back of us. The wave of water seemed to be following us, pursuing us - gaining on us. A fierce flash of light and a bomb-like boom seemed to shake the ground under out feet. “Oh, ****!” I half-screamed, half-laughed, panting.

I pressed my door fob as we approached the car and we clamored in just as the lashing rain overtook us. We looked at each other, out of breath, and laughed in relief.
“Who says frisbee golf isn’t exciting?” I asked.
BLT word of the day challenge. Uncanny: "of unusual or almost supernatural character"
Joseph Childress Oct 2010
Warfare isn’t always a fair war.
Welfare says the best fare well.
It’s all fair play but do they really play fair?

But whether rough or fairways,
Through strife you still play
To make yourself whole in one.
Paul Roberts Feb 2011
A red feathered hawk glides across the semi frozen fairways
as  potential morsels scramble off the daily menu.
He  picks  at random , enjoys his meal, then starts his
search anew.
Such is Life.
A flat bottom ****** has found his home near the pond on  green number two.
Surrounded by trees on all sides for his **** building to choose.
Atlas he chose what wasn't wise and took a beam from someones porch.
So now he dangles at the end of a trap secured to a tree of course.
Such is Life
Wild geese come and gather round, here they found a place to stay.
Each day their wandering gets kind of wild when golf ***** sail their way.
Their droppings cause quite a mess on these wealthy mens shoes
but I laugh inside most of the time , this isn't the worse thing they could do.
Such is Life.
To me , to see nature entwine with population and still come to some course of harmony,
brings a peaceful moment to my life but mabey that's just me.
Such is Life
Paul Roberts: Turn the Page

— The End —