[R. S. Gwynn]

Frost at Golf


Scoring. You’ve got to score.

badness


He’s in the woods again. There are two roads
To the 18th green, both bad. He plays his foot-
wedge to the fairway. Now there’s just one, but
He shanks his five iron deeper in the woods.
His partners look away; they know his moods.
At softball one time Larry tagged him out
And got a face full of the great man’s shit.
Larry smiles faintly. Larry’s got the goods.


The poet’s game is either fire or ice.
Some of the time he drives it straight and far,
But tops his second like he tops his third.
No god can help that really nasty slice
Except a tree or wall or, once, a bird.

He calls five feet a gimme, cards his par.

[Jan Iwaszkiewicz]

Norman Vincent’s so appealing Sam as a coach in life or in golf. Self hypnosis is such an efficient remove from the unfortunate aspects of reality. Perhaps this needs a touch more bite

Jan

[W T Clark]

Okay, boomer.


Hope this helps.

[Glenn Wright]

Very clever! Sly references to “The Road Not Taken,” “Fire and Ice,” “Birches,” “Mending Wall,” (is the bird “The Oven Bird?”). There are probably some others that I didn’t pick up on. “Larry” stumped me. All I could think of was that Frost and his wife graduated from Lawrence High School.
Robert Frost was legendary for being an asshole. He once supposedly set a fire in a trash can during a poetry reading by Archibald MacLeish. I guess he played golf like Donald Trump.
(Oops. de mortuis nil nisi bonum.)
Thanks for the chuckle!

[R. S. Gwynn]

Thanks, Glenn. Larry is Lawrance Thompson, Frost's official biographer who came to hate him. "badness" is a notorious subcategory in LT's index.

[Jan Iwaszkiewicz]

And here’s me thinking you were hiding your target. I assumed the Larry as some sort of secret service caddy. No wonder I thought it was far too subtle.

Sorry Sam

[Carl Copeland]

Not a piece that’s easily appreciated by non-golfers or Frost admirers. Now I’m only one of those.

[R. S. Gwynn]

The best golfing poet I've known is Tim Steele. John Crowe Ransom was said to be pretty good. Like cheese, poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of golf. Why is this?

[W T Clark]

Originally Posted by R. S. Gwynn

The best golfing poet I've known is Tim Steele. John Crowe Ransom was said to be pretty good. Like cheese, poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of golf. Why is this?

Because it's irrelevant to poetic thought.

[John Riley]

I knew about Frost and the biographer hating him. I would have too. I still think when he took his wise man hat off he was sometimes profound, particularly in the late poems like “Come In” and “Directive.” The Frost Game thing is well-worn. If he was alive he’d probably regret he said it the way Bishop grew tired of “One Art.” This seems to be written as a bit of fun. It doesn’t work for me but it may for others.