Dear Crewmembers: Thank you all for your inspired and very entertaining poetry submissions. Our new putting "poet in residence" is Paul Tarvydas of Toronto Canada!
Click here to see the winning submission >
I have decided to offer a 30% discount on any purchases between now and the competition deadline (08/04/2008) to any struggling poets I post on the website, including the eventual winner, who, instead of receiving the 30% discount, would simply be refunded the price of the purchase should he or she choose to buy a putter before August 4th.
I am making this offer to show all the doubting Thomases out there, that Torpedo pioneers are a different breed. I have always contended that folks who gravitate toward genuine innovation, tend to be smarter, less conforming, more creative and more divergent thinkers, with a keen nose for distinguishing substance from malarkey, and now we have poetic proof! Plus, I’m sure the entertainment value of these little ditties alone will be well worth the discount!
If you sign up with Torpedo Golf’s mailing list, you can also enter this competition to win a free putter or receive deep discounts should we publish your pithy putting poetry (anonymously) below! The deadline is Monday, August 4th, 2008. I will upload new poems as they trickle in, so keep checking back to see if you qualified for the 30% discount on any purchases between now and the competition deadline.
So:
For those who say I’m a cheapskate
Write a poem, before it’s too late,
With nearly one third off,
Only fools can now scoff,
There is now no good reason to wait
Putting Poems 1-10 of 31
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The woes of my golf game are many and varied,
None worse than the stroke of my putter, balky and harried,
Then along came Tim and upon a whim,
I embraced his new wand,
And immediately felt a Torpedic bond,
As my newfound stroke sings and swings with Staradivaric resonance!
There once was a man named Bob,
Who used to putt like it was his ho-hum job.
He picked up a Torpedo putter,
And rolled the greens like butter,
Then became the world’s first “Torpedo snob”.
Torpedo, Torpedo—what more can I say?
Never before has a putter made me feel this way.
I get a big shiver,
‘Bout adding you to my quiver,
You are almost too beautiful to be put into play.
A dealer in paper and plastic
Played golf but at putting was spastic
He bought a Torpedo
And said "This is neato!"
And now his putting's fantastic
There once was a captain named Winey
Whose crew manned Torpedoes quite shiny
With no doubts, even tiny,
No ifs, ands or buts,
His crew avowed "We sink more putts!"
There once was a captain named Tim
His crew all sang the same hymn
Some putted for dough
Others did so for fun
With each putt, they intoned "Fire One!"
In a hammock on an old oak trunk,
Squirrels chattering, Tim stretched out and thunk
An acorn, kerplunk!
Hit Tim's head, broke his funk
Gravity forced his ideas on how good putts were sunk!
Tim the inventor was eclectic
His ideas about golf were dialectic
He tried an x'spearamint
With shapes of a pyramid
The buzz amid golfers turned electric.
There once was an inventor named Tim
He wanted more putts to go in
He made a club for his son
The Torpedo was done
And Tim exclaimed "Now, Fire One!".
Tim the inventor did think
That more putts on the green he could sink
Mixing golf with some lutherie,
Torpedoes and pyramids
His brainchild was named Stradivari.
Putting Poems 1-10 of 31
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