Pretty Poetry For Everyday

Gold Poems

17 Golf Poems For Life & Death

Gold is life and these golf poems showcase exactly why I’m so passionate about this sport.

From the early mornings at the greens to the crazy amount of practice that goes into something so simple as a swing, this sport will leave you wanting more everyday.

These favorite golf poems will inspire your next round and encourage you to keep going even when it gets rough. See why it’s only right to live and breathe such an amazing sport.

Gold Poems

Golfers Poems

1. A Golf Lesson 

Over fifty years have passed,
Tho’ it seems like just the other day;
My father gave me golf clubs,
“It’s a game you need to learn to play.”

He said, “It’s very difficult, but so is life.
There’s more to learn than grip and swing and rules,
Like honesty and dealing with adversity;
Then, pointing to his head, “… and how to use ALL your tools.

Play the Course… and Mother Nature…
Focus on just one shot at a time;
Try to learn from each of your mistakes;
Then, do your best to leave them behind.

These clubs will teach you more
Than our ‘man to man’ talks.
This you’ll learn for yourself,
So you can “walk the walk.”

“Practice makes better, but not perfect.
And always remember what they say:
‘”Golf is not a game that we can win.
It’s just a game we play.’”

His lessons served me very well,
Took them to heart and play the game.
And life is much like a round of golf.
Despite the bad shots, I’m always glad I came.

– Robert Candler

2. Have A Great Golf Game

My belief in God is as firm as it can get
He rains down heaven so I will ne wet
With all His love along with very being
Even when off on golf course am teeing.

With God golf weather will be great
May be with much vigor or sedate
And when on back of crucifix rub
He helps me pick out perfect club.

Energy is everlasting and not draining
God is thoughtful teacher when in training
Has a golden rule which is to take a bean
And do gently roll it slowly down the green.

Now that you have found slope and flow
Way much better your golf ball will go
And God makes sure game will survive
By continually keeping your drive alive.

When you will allow God to be your map
He has been known to have your handicap
No longer surprising like a rising star
But somewhere near or equal to par.

So will have a great golf game or SWAG.

James Horn 

3. I really am a golfer

I really am a golfer
And let me tell you why
Its only when I swing a club
I really feel alive

I really am a golfer
And take my driver out
I swing my club and hit the ball
As hard and I have might

I really and a golfer
My ball is in the rough
I swing my metal 3 real hard
To find the grass is tuff

I really am a golfer
My ball goes 50 ft.
It’s out the rough and in the sand
And buried very deep

I really am a golfer
I take my sand wedge out
I open up the face of it
And swing it with a clout

I really am a golfer
My ball is on the green
I swing the putter in an arc
With boggy on the seen

I really am a Golfer
My put goes 10ft past
I’m looking at a double
But the Green is just too fast

I really am a golfer
The balls beside the cup
I make it in the center
And my friends they call it luck.

Justin Time 

4. A Golfer’s Tale

Was out playing golf just for fun
With Father O’Toole in the sun
When club from hand burst
Hit priest as he cursed
And I hit his first holy one

-Martin Kloess  

Why I love Golf

5. Be A Better Putter

Was with naughty iron that is a nine,
Which some say has become benign,
That balls seemed slow as molasses;
Did need to take a few more classes.

From whole golf course would be cut;
Had played never learning how to putt,
Should see each scratchy terrible scar,
That was received for not making par.

Received setback and a major mishap,
Ball again did end up in a sand trap,
And occurred a complete catastrophe;
Drove my ball hard from tee into a tree.

To avoid all trash along with the clutter,
Wanted to try and buy a better putter;
From terrible putts ended up insane;
On course my golf bag does remain.

James Horn 

6. Golfing(Continue Here)

You’re in Palm Springs, not much to do
But golf and get some sun
Hop on a cart, still almost dark
Get out and have some fun

Line up your shot, you’re feeling hot
You try hard not to push
But half the time, like you were blind
It ends up in the bush

You curse and swear like no one’s there
Dig up a chunk of dirt
You hit a house, feel like a louse
Thank God no one was hurt

You hack around, rip up the ground
The hole seems ’way too small
You miss your shot and swear a lot
This is no fun at all

-Vic Pister 

7. This Game of Golf

This game of golf as is this life,
Played all life, perfect still can’t be,
Ever reminding of one’s wife,
Put on pedestal, upon tee,
Handicaps, roughs, bogies stay rife,
And played as if on edge of knife!

Easy to start, hard to finish,
And harder ever to master,
Followed like an unfulfilled wish,
Always one stroke from disaster,
As in life, handicaps bridge gap,
Eagles two, birdies claim one clap.

What rage be this game every age,
As many highs as there be lows,
A game ever on players grows,
Ageless be this sport in image—
To my liking a bit high brow,
Pricey clubs, carts, caddies in tow.

And if ye think you the ball drive,
Beware of game that drives you naïve,
This game of greens, good to relax,
Greener still goes envied player,
And greatest of a leveller,
Pro or novice likes it like sex.

– Aniruddha Pathak


Life is like a round of golf
With many a turn and twist.
But the game is much too sweet and short To curse the shots you’ve missed.

Sometimes you’ll hit it straight and far Sometimes the putts roll true.
But each round has it’s errant shots And troubles to play through.

So always swing with courage No matter what the lie.
And never let the hazards Destroy the joy inside.

And keep a song within your heart
Give thanks that you can play.
For the round is much too short and sweet To let it slip away.

Criswell Freeman

9. A Golf Limerick

While a man was golfing in Fife
a funeral cortege was arife,

his head bowed in prayer
at this somber affair

to pay last respects to his wife!

-Thvia Shetley 

Funny Golf Poems

10. Golf Humor

2020, golf’s crazy year
When Covid made its call.
The Masters played in November
And the Open, not at all.

Quarantine closed the courses;
The return in fits and starts.
Partners socially distancing,
Riding in separate carts.

Now optimism’s in the air,
A vaccine’s on the way.
Though winter will be difficult,
We have hopes for a better day

And as long as we are hopeful,
A second vaccine would be nice.
This, a duffers dream come true,
One to prevent a slice.

-Leon S White, PhD

11. Rhyme That

Two poets called Helga and Rolf
Found no words to rhyme with Adolf
One said it’s absurd
There isn’t one word
Let’s give up and go play some golf

-Terry Flood

12. The Truth Hurts

I’m a lonely golf ball lost in the wood,
hit by a golfer that’s not very good.
Honestly I swear,
I don’t think he cares.
Maybe taking a few lessons he should.

Wren Rushing  

13. Fritz Buys a Golf Course

Fritz had always dreamed of owning some land
After the army, he’d buy some, as planned
But Fritz served near Iran
And green grass there was banned
Fool bought a golf course ~ but only the sand

-Gershon Wolf 

14. Washing Your Balls

Each golf course has its own rules per link
Some are more controversial than others methinks
Like people must be dressed
Wearing undies like the rest
One sign read “please don’t wash your balls in the sink”

Jack Ellison

15. Golfing Etiquette

There was this Scots golfer Sir Percy Hoar

Who dinged a poor bloke nigh hole number four

This made the dude mighty sore

And after Percy he tore

Forsooth, Sir Percy failed to bellow FORE

Robert L. Hinshaw  

16. Hole In One

golfers yearn to get a hole in one
to get it is thrilling, full of fun
wear two pairs of socks
don’t keep in toe locks
throw one after hole in one is done

– Mohan Chutani

when a golfer dies poem

The sunset slowly tells the death of day.
At last deserted in each sand-strewn tee.
The caddie homeward wends his weary way.
And leaves the links to silence and to me.

The shadows lengthen on the grassy slopes
Where nibbling sheep still dot the scene with white.
They fade away, like fleeting earthly hopes,
And melt into the shades of coming night.

All silent, save for sounds of bleatings faint
That float to me upon the evening air;
Or, from the darkening wood, some twittered plaint
Of birds that seek nocturnal shelter there.

Upon these close-mown greens, this fading field,
Where hazards full of hidden dangers lie,
The warriors of peace their weapons wield,
And in the friendly contest daily vie.

No more to-day, with shouts from happy lips,
They send their greetings on the ambient air,
And tingle to their very finger-tips,
Enchanted by this game beyond compare.

For them no more the faithful caddie slings
The well-worn bag his youthful shoulder o’er,
Or polished clubs to them, unbidden brings,
Or helps record the all-important score.

Not all who tread these greens can win success,
But few can hold the cups and medals bright.
Yet all may gain that priceless blessedness,
The ruddy health that makes all burdens light.

Let not ambition blind the devotees
Who worship at golf’s grassy temple green.
It is not only they that rule the tees
Who summits of athletic joy have seen.

Full many a man may play a modest game
And feel a joy unclouded, heaven-sent.
No anxious aims entice him on the fame,
He’s free from care, and with his lot content.

For such as this, when golfing days are o’er,
And death’s angel putts the winning hole,
And those above sum up his life’s full score,
Write thus his epitaph, and seek his goal.

-Francis Bowler Keene


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