Verse the only way to celebrate life of mini-golf maverick

On Tuesday in Vestal, N.Y., Robert R. Taylor Sr. died at the age of 89. Mr. Taylor, along with his brother Joseph, is credited with revolutionizing miniature golf by creating elaborate courses with complex obstacles, including pinball machines, lighthouses, wishing wells and windmills.

In order to truly convey the appreciation for Mr. Taylor and the joy he’s given people of all ages, there is but only one way – via poetry. The following poem is dedicated to Mr. Taylor, and all the others who have helped make mini-golf such a thriving part of the fabric of American life.

Aging, Overly Competitive Guy Plays Putt-Putt

No. I won’t give you that
So what that it’s six inches
this is freaking putt-putt
you gotta make them all

The loop-de-loop is
just three holes away
I’ll make it this time
the windmill also

My opponent keeps on
making twos, even at
the church hole, past
the white alter and over
water then down a chute
and into the hole in two

I took out her hamstring
with my dull putter on
the fourth hole but she
keeps hobbling along
making her twos and
acting all smug-like

Crashed and burned
on the loop-de-loop
ball flew off and hit
some kid in the face
stop your crying brat
it only increases
the blood flow

Down just one shot
against gimpy on the
final hole that has
a big swinging log
protecting the hole

She makes it in two
before I can take out
her other leg so I need
a heroic finish for victory

My putt is true, heading
for the hole to make
me a champion again
but the damned swinging
log knocks my ball off
the course and saddles
me with humiliating defeat

Needless to say
I wrecked the joint with
that log, destroying the
stupid little golf town
windmill and loop-de-loop
in complete shambles

As the cops took me
away, I could hear the
sirens go off as my
nine-year-old opponent
made an ace on hole 19
and won a free game

–WKW