A poem about "The Masters"

Since this weekend is THE weekend as far as my husband is concerned, I thought I'd share this with you. I wrote this in 1993 out of boredom while my husband was watching The Masters. Of course that was "BK" (before kids) when he could actually do such things. Luckily for him though, the boys and I are heading out of town this weekend (perfect timing as far as I'm concerned). So... no need to call, email or stop by because he'll be totally absorbed in all things green!

"The Masters"


I get out of my cart
and address the tee,
I gaze down the fairway
and no one do I see.

My caddy hands me my club
and tells me to watch for the bunker.
He forgets I'm a scratch golfer,
not some old clunker.

The dog leg is tough,
but I'm going for the eagle.
This time I'm going to
do it absolutely legal.

As the divot flies
high in the air,
I keep my cool and
at the ball I stare.

I can see it's a hook
as it goes to the left.
Just over the pond,
but not a bit wet.

As I give the warning
and call out “fore,”
It lands in the rough.
I can see it no more.

I make my approach shot
and hope for the best.
Right on the green
it comes to rest.

He hands me my putter
and speaks not a word.
The course is silent
except for a bird.

I step up to the ball
with the greatest of ease,
Hoping no one can
see my stomach quease.

I sink my spikes
into the ground,
For I know this is
the very last round.

After I putt the ball
time seems to stop.
It rolls so slowly,
I'm about to pop.

At long last
the birdie is mine.
I'm walking tall
and feeling fine.

As the crowd starts to clap
and give me a hand,
Jack Nicklaus gives me
my hundred grand.

When the bright green blazer
is being present to me,
Reality sets in……..
I'm awoke by a bee.

© 1993 Shane Hawk