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#Ireland

  • Ode to a Golf Ball in Ireland!

    Ahhhh...the joys of playing something called "golf" in Ireland inspired the following ode after two friends and I lost approximately three dozen golf balls in four rounds of golf! With deep apologies to great Irish poets like Yeats, Heaney, Joyce and others...

    Ode to a Golf Ball in Ireland
    By
    Chuck Cascio
    You were good to me
    This is true
    We played together elsewhere.
    You landed on flat grounds
    I found you in the woods
    You buried yourself in sand
    You wound your way home
    I bathed you clean and watched you gleam.
    But now, my trusted friend,
    As I place you on your throne
    Ireland's cruel winds howl
    The ocean laughs
    And tiny raindrops splatter my face
    Though the sun shines and
    A canyon looms below,
    Housing creatures that mock our effort,
    And countless traps of sand surround our hoped-for destination,
    We know the cruel fate that does await...
    I will swing
    You will fly
    I will curse
    You will curve
    I will sigh
    You will disappear 
    Drowned
    Eaten
    Lost
    So I say to you, dear friend,
    Thank you for your service
    Your friendship
    Your dimpled presence.
    You will be missed
    And now, go meet your destiny
    One shared by thousands of other balls
    Buried in the cemeteries Ireland calls golf courses. 

    (copyright Chuck Cascio, all rights reserved)