From Richard Armour’s Golf Bawls.

did kilmer play golf?

I think that I shall never see
My ball beneath a spreading tree,
Whose roots give me a dreadful lie,
Whose branches strike me in the eye,
Whose leaves obliterate the view,
Whose trunk prevents a follow through —
I’ll never see a tree, I swear,
And not wish it were otherwhere.

pro and con

I took a lesson from the pro,
Who told me all I ought to know
About my grip, my shift of weight,
Just how to keep my left arm straight
And cock my wrists, and uncock too,
With head down on the follow through,
Besides some pointers on my pivot,
And how to take the proper divot.

However, now I have, I find,
So many things upon my mind
That if, perchance, I think of all,
I then forget to hit the ball.

lines on luck

A golfer’s luck is always tough,
 His good luck’s simply nil;
The bad bounce goes into the rough,
 The good bounce — hell, that’s skill!

bad moment

Heard is the distant, frenzied shout
Of “Fore!” as the ball goes sailing out,
Straight at the head, or other part,
Of some poor innocent, pure of heart,
Who, bent over double, head in hands,
Awaits the moment the stray ball lands,
Hoping the while, though hope is dim,
That the law of averages favors him.

two ways out

Some golfers blast their ball from traps
 With one adroit explosion,
But others, out in ten perhaps,
 Depend upon erosion.

not to mention yourself

The tee that’s not level,
 The ball that is dead,
The fellow who’s talking,
 The slowpokes ahead,

The fairway that’s soggy,
 The green that’s unmown,
The trap’s wrong location,
 The ground rule unknown,

The shaft that is crooked,
 The clubhead that’s loose —
It takes little looking
 To find an excuse.

one down

Weight distributed,
 Free from strain,
Divot replaced,
 Familiar terrain,
Straight left arm,
 Unmoving head —
Here lies the golfer,
 Cold and dead.