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The Kiss That Caused My Slice- a Book of Golf Poems

Book Excerpt By John Ducker

By Glen Turk

The Kiss That Caused My Slice is a collection of golf poems that capture the joy, comedy, humanity, and magic of golf. These poems tell the stories of strange pairings, non-traditional gambling, and the great (and awful) shots. Brandt Jobe, PGA Tour golfer wrote: "This is a golfer's perfect gift, with witty poems capturing the game, the swing, and the overall impressions one encounters on the course, as well as stunning images of beautiful golf courses around the world."

John wrote his first golf poem for an annual September outing in which the team that best answered the question "Why Golf?" was going to be awarded five strokes. He wrote and read "Why I Love Golf"; and while the five strokes didn't take them to the championship, it did (narrowly) keep his team out of the cellar, for which they were all grateful. From there John felt like he started to have a body of work that just needed a little supplementing to get to a golf book-sized collection. There are 19 poems in the book - one each for 18 holes of golf and then one more for the 19th hole, and it is intended for golfer's every where.

The book is available as of January 1st, 2010 at Amazon.com and BN.com, as well as select pro shops and bookstores.

We all know that gambling and golf go together like love and marriage or a horse and carriage from Married with Children fame. John Ducker also explores the range of human emotions present on the golf course when you're "Raising the Ante."

Raising the Ante

It was the summer after our wedding, our rings still shiny and bright.
My wife planned golf with my in-laws, perhaps on the links we wouldn't fight.
My in-laws and I don't mix. The reasons - would take too long to compile 'em.
They think I belong in prison. I think they belong in an asylum.
But golf was a good idea, for golf makes strange bedfellows of us all.
Why not tee it up? We could take our frustrations out on the ball.
But the day before our round, my wife turned an ankle, which swelled, blacked and blued.
"You still have to play", she said. "Why?" I asked, "They already think I'm rude."
So the three of us headed to the course and took some practice swings to get warm,
When my father-in-law's cell phone rang. I sensed a brewing storm.
A work emergency had come up suddenly, and he would have to run.
"The two of you should still play," he said. He was sorry to miss the fun.
So now it was just a twosome, and I asked my ogre-in-law about action at the tee box.
"Sure thing," she said grinning. She's crazy, I tell you. Crazy like a fox.
"But let's not bet money," she said, "No, let's make it more interesting than that.
Let's be honest. You think I'm nasty. I think that you're stupid and fat.
With this match today, let's put an end to our bickering and brawling.
For example, if you win, I promise to refrain from any early morning calling.
I'll visit only once a year, and then for no more than four days,
I'll stop slandering you on the internet, and I'll accept your slovenly ways.
For birthdays I'll send gifts that you want, rather than try to inflict my will,
And for all of the things you break at our house, I will stop sending you a bill.
Of course you, my daft son-in-law, will also have to put something in the pot.
If I win I will visit whenever I like, which might seem to you like a lot.
If victorious, I want our picture displayed, visible from your living room couch,
And we will always share Thanksgiving and Christmas, and you will not act like a grouch.
So take the bet if you want to, if not, of course, I would understand,
It is a big risk for you to take, and generally speaking, you are a cowardly man."
"You are on!" I retorted boldly, and tried to calmly flip the tee.
"Your honor, Your Honor" I joked, and she ripped one as far as I could see.
Like a jack rabbit she parred out, seizing the early lead.
On the par three second she stuck it so close, the putt I had to concede.
And on and on and on she went, dominating the front nine.
I was panicked, and had visions of an in-law apartment running through my mind.
But after we made the turn, I started to get a couple of breaks.
And my mother-in-law struggled, and choked on a couple of must makes.
She righted the ship quickly, playing with a determination I'd never before seen.
She was two up on the 16th tee, and driving like a machine.
But number 16 was a dogleg right that played perfectly for my slice.
And she hooked one into the woods, and screamed a curse word, when 'darn' would have sufficed.
On 17 she found the bunker, and took three swings to get out,
All square on the 18th tee box, round 15 of the championship bout.
I put my drive in the fairway, she followed though not quite as far.
She hit the green with her second, and cleaned up the two putt par.
I was also on in two, and had a downhiller that didn't look so fast,
But my adrenaline was pumping like a fire hose, and I knocked it six feet past.
My heart was pounding hard as I lined up that baby for the halve,
My opponent knew she couldn't lose, and at my expense let out a laugh.
The putt was tracking from the start, but I swear that witch stared it off line,
And as it lipped out she cackled a satanic sound that reverberated through my spine.
I'd like to tell you more about that match, but I can't. No, not today.
I've got to get to the airport - she lands in an hour, for a three and a half week stay.

Kiss Me You Fool

It was June 16th, Bloomsday, the year 1993.
I played a magical round that left an indelible mark on me.
I was 24 and single, my future so bright it was glowing.
A ten handicapper and improving, my love for golf was just growing.
From the Upper West Side, I caught the one train taking an uptown tack,
To play a round at Van Cortlandt, the nation's oldest public track.
A calm perfect summer day, the starter sent me right to the first tee,
Another single was already there, smiling and waiting to meet me.
She was five foot eight, with strawberry blond hair, perfectly out of place.
Statuesque and striking, there's not a word pretty enough to describe her face.
Her name was Kelly, she told me, in a voice that made the Sirens call,
Sweating and extremely nervous, I was worried if I'd be able to hit the ball.
But I managed to hit a good one, and Kelly put one out there as well.
Heading out on the fairway with her, my boyish nervousness started to quell.
Walking and flirting constantly, the way early 20-somethings will do
The golf breaks started coming, the greens all rolled true.
We were helping each other, almost caddying, and really enjoying the day.
Relaxing and talking and laughing, somehow golf became an easy game to play.
By the second tee I was smitten, and by the turn I had a crush,
By the 12th hole I was fascinated, by 15, well, I was mush.
She loved travel and movies and poetry, and of geese we shared a fear,
Our musical tastes were the similar, plus she liked to drink beer.
She had a true love of the West, and sported a golfer's tan.
My memory may have embellished this, but I even think she was a Bronco fan.
I'd never enjoyed a round more and we were both playing so great,
And after 17 I figured out it would be my career low even if I finished with an eight.
But I birdied to finish the round, for a two over 74.
And she shook my hand and kissed me, and now my story becomes lore.
Because when our lips met I felt a jolt of electricity run through my spine,
And though I've kissed a few girls since, not one kiss was as fine.
She said "I'm leaving you now, and you will never see me again.
Don't press me on this. It's absolute, no phone calls, nor letters we'll send.
A part of me will always love you, and please remember me just like this,
And in case your memory fades, I left you something in my kiss."
She walked away and vanished, no kiss legacy was in evidence,
But believe me when I tell you: I haven't hit a straight ball since.
The big banana slice that now defines my 19 handicap game,
Was a gift from a blue eyed strawberry blond, Kelly was her name.
It's almost always a vicious slice, a fade on a good day,
No lessons or equipment or training tools can make it go away.
And I now play for it, having hit it as many times as I have done,
And I still see her in my mind's eye, taste her lips like sugar on my tongue.
I wouldn't change a thing to be honest, if fate allowed me to do it twice,
For I'll always have that day, and the kiss that caused my slice.

Revised: 03/02/2010 - Article Viewed 1513 Times