Here's a crazy (and not very good poem) that I wrote. I actually dreamed this, and thought of writing a poem about it when I woke up this morning. Enjoy... or at least tolerate! LOL.

Flog

A crazy yell and spill the beer
Through the hedge, o'er the rise
Club held erect without fear
To hole eighteen for the prize
Ball on the ground flat and sheer

Push it to the fair with a plow
Smack and it sails up to a clou’

Race in the night for the find
Look and look; there it is
No, just a nut of some kind
Despair, anger; what ‘bout this?
Drop another no one’ll mind

Whack! Wood on the ball
Hopin’ near to the tee it’ll fall

Once more then it’s close
Put dimpled round on the pole
Three more swings the mos’
Start ‘gain... prize in the next hole
All are runnin’ to see who’ll boas’

Better exercise than taking a jog
A backwards game we call flog