Almanac Poetry: No one is Safe – Michael Pardy
You will never be safe, until the ball
It falls without a trace
To its final resting place
And calm returns to your face.
Note:
This poem follows the Welsh form called Englyn.
The form lends the content a sense of gravity. It may pay to
recite this poem to yourself after any magnificent drive.
To read more by Pards click HERE.
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About Michael Pardy
My drives are never magnificent and the ball usually ends up somewhere in the scrub, gone without a trace, dead and buried in its final resting place.
Calm never returns.
That’s too funny Matt!