My Swing

May 17, 2012
By BradBiss BRONZE, Clarkston, Michigan
BradBiss BRONZE, Clarkston, Michigan
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

I leave a scar on the surface of the breathing earth,
The grass where the ball once was is withering away in the heat of the sun.
Sand and dirt exploding in all directions
In that instant the club thumps the ground.

The air pierced with the flight of the golf ball.
The Cinergy.
Me and the ground becoming one,
My feet holding me steady and in place,
My head as still as an air bubble in an ice cube.

I’m just a breathing statue in the wind,
The air blowing around me
Whipping my shirt around my body.
The club gently resting in my hands,
My mind wiped clean of all thoughts.

Remembering that it’s only a game,
My heart beats steadily.
My breathing controlled and relaxed,
Only positive thoughts move through my head.
It’s easier that way.

The author's comments:
I enjoy playing golf in my spare time and writing this poem was a way to connect what i do outside of school to the classroom.

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