Jerry DeNuccio

Jerry DeNuccio
Lamoni, Iowa,
September 18
Professor of English
Graceland University


Jerry DeNuccio's Links
JULY 22, 2011 9:20AM

Robert Frost: The Golf Poems 3

Rate: 16 Flag

Your Intrepid Researcher (IR) here offers a third poem from the manuscript, Robert Frost: The Golf Poems, that he found mausoleumed in the basement of the Lamoni Iowa Public Library.  As do so many of the poems in the manuscript, this one depicts Frost’s fraught fetishization of his incompetence at the sport, but your IR notices here a new wrinkle in the floundering and foozled poet’s psychic economy: a dire warning that his plunge into golf’s dark waters may cannonball-splash into apocalyptic consequences.  Indeed, beneath the poem lies an almost Ahabian howl of fury at a seemingly malign and universal spiritus mundi that seeks, actively, to stupefy and degrade all human striving.  Overheated verse by and underperforming golfer?  Your IR will let you be the judge. 


Robert Frost Goes Ballistic


My curse words rose with a dinning shout.

One chasing another going out.

I thought of doing something to the course

That sickles do to thickest gorse.

Clouds hung dark and low in the skies,

And echoed my profanities in stark reprise.

You could not tell, it seemed as if

My purpose here was to stage each whiff,

Whiff followed by whiff, and more besides.

It looked as if my inept bona fides

Were on display, not only for the day, an age.

Someone had better be prepared for rage.

There will be more than my driver broken,

Before my I’m calling it quits was spoken.

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I dare say the old boy is coming a bit unhinged! "Ahabian howl of fury"-- wonderful intro. I read this a few times to savor it, lingering over the sickle, the gorse, not only for a day, an age... Much to love, much to chuckle at, and much to admire in the crafting.
You quitting? I's send my Grandchildren to attend your classes. We need good professors.

Teach how to skin a gopher.
Please provide a brief recipe.
Love makes us poets grouchy.
Who's not be cussing @ O.S.?
It seems to be near fatal-death.
O.S. die from too much greed.
I never sip gin to avoid a stoke.
Frost? Great read on humid day.
Kerry? He okay? He in VA's ICU?
I may go sing `The Iceman Cometh.
I swear I am confused. Comment Go?

We all do approach Grim Reapers.
Read stop by a woods on snow day.
Take thee path less travelled`gins.
Oh MAN, Jerry! Keep diggin'!!! Rated.
Brilliant as always! Somewhere, Frost is raising a glass in your direction.
These are wonderful, Jer. I think you've stumbled upon a new and glorious métier. I'm struggling to decide which I find more amusing, your intros or the poems themselves. Bravo. I trust there will be many encores.
Let's do Plath at tennis: "Daddy, I had to whack you" and such. I'll work with you if you want!

"almost Ahabian howl of fury at a seemingly malign and universal spiritus mundi that seeks, actively, to stupefy and degrade all human striving" - I can't remember ever reading words as brilliant as these.
The poem is wonderful too.
rated with love
I love it! Haven't had a club in my hand for over 30 years... now I remember Y.
I like Frost more all the time! Thanks for these poems which I am collecting and putting on my golf page on my site.
Frost's brother, it's not widely known, invented the sport of ice golf. He lived in Wisconsin, in Wobegonif, and his name was Jack Frost.
I like a good gorse now and then, myself. [R]
Jerry, as I read this I kept repeating to myself, "This is BRILLIANT." I see others agree with me here. Your wit coupled with your unparalelled writing acumen is simply masterful...rated with admiration.
Um, I think I spelled unparalleled embarrassing...sorry about that.
I'm with Matt on not being able to decide which is most amusing ... your intros or Frost's poems!

Well done, Jerry. Thank you for sharing.
I hate when my inept bona fides are on display . . . . (Maybe Frost shoulda canned his caddy . . . )

IR triumphs!
He stole that poem from me when he saw me shoot one day. Now, I didn't say it in quiet the same eloquent way, but he got the gist of it!
Were Mr. Frost himself to peruse your review of his work, he'd not be displeased, I think. Seldom does the reviewer's own abilities and perspicacity come up to the work, or the author, being reviewed.

Our concerns on that subject are quickly laid to rest with your excellent intro here. Mr. Frost would, undoubtedly, have been pleased to number you amongst his peers.


"And echoed my profanities in stark reprise..." It brings to mind my splitting of the sky after blowing a four-foot birdie attempt on the 18th hole of the last round I played.

I get a chance at a birdie perhaps once every three years.

By the way, I'm going to reread these poems while listening to P.D.Q. Bach.

You're brilliant, Jerry.