In my hand I hold a ball
\nWhite and dimpled, rather small.
\nOh, how bland it does appear,
\nThis harmless looking little sphere.<\/p>\n
By his size I could not guess
\nThe awesome strength it does possess;
\nMy life has not been quite the same
\nSince I choose to play this stupid game.<\/p>\n
I rule my mind for hours on end.
\nA fortune it has made me spend.
\nIt has made me curse and cry
\nI hate myself and want to die.<\/p>\n
I am promised a thing called ‘par’
\nIf I can hit it straight and far.
\nTo master such a tiny ball
\nShould not be very hard at all.<\/p>\n
But my desires the ball refuses
\nAnd does exactly as it chooses.
\nIt hooks and slices, dribbles, dies
\nand disappears before my eyes.<\/p>\n
Often it will have a whim
\nTo hit a tree or take a swim.
\nWith miles of grass on which to land
\nIt finds a tiny patch of sand.<\/p>\n
Then has me offering up my soul
\nIf it will just drop in the hole.
\nIt made me whimper like a pup,
\nand swear that I will give it up.<\/p>\n
And take to drink to ease my sorrow.
\nBut The Ball knows…I’ll be back tomorrow.<\/p>\n
………….poem contributed by Don Dizon<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
In my hand I hold a ball White and dimpled, rather small. Oh, how bland it does appear, This harmless looking little sphere. By his size I could not guess The awesome strength it does possess; My life has not … Continue reading