The first players off the tee in the early morning are known as Dewsweepers. From the 1st to 18th hole, these golfers literally help sweep the dew from the course. Poetic, don’t you think?
It should come as no surprise that poetry has a solid place in golf—some of the earliest golf poems date back to the 1600’s. After all, the space between the ball and the hole can be a great yearning chasm for even the best golfer.
It’s a game mastered by no one.
From Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s poem, “A Lay of the Links“:
With the turf ’neath our tread and the blue overhead,
And the song of the lark in the whin
There’s the flag and the green, with the bunkers between—
Now will you be over or in?
POETRY PROMPT: Imagine you’re a Dewsweeper. Write a poem about an early morning walk through the grass. What lies ahead of you? What impression will you leave behind?
Photo by Alosh Bennett. Creative Commons license via Flickr. Post by Heather Eure.
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Richard Maxson says
Green Angels
not to be found
by a shoe print
in the settle of dew,
we crossed in the rough,
to the ponds and slid in, blind divers,
barefoot, shirtless, feeling
for the white gold,
sacking them like goose eggs
we sold back, half-priced
to the not-so-long drivers.
Heather Eure says
Ah, yes! The art of hawking. A peaceful endeavor… mostly. We had several resident alligators so it added a little excitement for our ball divers. 😉
Clever poem, Richard!
Bethany R. says
I enjoyed your poem, Rick. The line, “sacking them like goose eggs,” was such a great insertion of fun. The mouthfeel of the line itself fits the feeling. The poem’s concept is something that took me by surprise after staring longingly at the dreamy photo for a full minute. What a delight.
Richard Maxson says
Thanks for reading and commenting, Bethany.
Robbie Pruitt says
Gideon
Judges 6:36-40
Gideon took a morning saunter
Out upon the green,
Where the dew lay in peace,
Upon all, except the fleece.
Gideon trusted this scene.
He knew what it would mean.
‘But on all the ground let there be dew’
And there it was in front of him in full view.
© April 30, 2015, Robbie Pruitt
Heather Eure says
Wonderful, Robbie!
Robbie Pruitt says
Thank you Heather! Enjoyed participating and reading everyone’s poetry.
Candy says
heavy feet shuffle
through the diamond dew leaving
giant- like snail trails
Heather Eure says
They are rather snail-like, aren’t they? Thanks for sharing, Candy!
Prasanta says
Shadows
Words fall like mist upon
morning; awaken dust,
soak dry bones. I wipe off dew
and see that you have left your
prints on my flesh. I am no longer
a ghost; I move like wind, seek
quiet shadows, and translate
their words into music.
Heather Eure says
“…you have left your prints on my flesh.” Love the way this poem lingers in my mind, Prasanta.