Golf Ball, Stalag Luft III
[Golf was popular among prisoners of the Polish POW camp during WW2. This ball is housed in the World Golf Museum, St Andrews.]
Polished khaki, stitched
from strips of leather boots
stuffed tight with sand, cotton, or whittled pine—
whatever they could find—
bound in rubber from tobacco pouches,
the shell of leather sewn as neatly
as the seaming on a handmade glove
upon the slim wrist of a sweetheart.
Did it sail, struck by a length of twisted wire
across a makeshift course?
Or by a branch pared to an even shaft,
club head fashioned from the melted foil
of cigarette packs?
Did it make a bid for freedom, shattering
a window, showering an officer
bent at his ablutions
or scoring names off a list?
Up close, it is a perfect sphere,
six hours to get the thing symmetrical
with tools and hidden blades.
From a distance, a green planet,
a return to mothers, sisters, fiancées,
a celestial body
just visible at the farthest reaches.
About this poem
This poem was included in Best Scottish Poems 2023. Best Scottish Poems is an online publication, consisting of 20 poems chosen by a different editor each year, with comments by the editor and poets. It provides a personal overview of a year of Scottish poetry. The editor for 2023 was Aoife Lyall.
Editor’s Comments:
A serendipitous mixture of skill and chance is at the heart of this poem, and with it a reminder that many POWS were highly skilled tradesman and professionals: people who understood the importance, of investing in something, in making something to be proud of, in the joy of delicate perfection. What we have here is innovation, ingenuity, and patience, and the wry imagination of the speaker: “Did it make a bid for freedom, shattering // a window, showering an officer / bent at his ablutions?” A golf ball, not just something to pass the time, but something crafted with purpose determination and, above all, hope.
Author’s Comments:
I wrote this poem at a poetry workshop with Luke Kennard at the R&A World Golf Museum in St Andrews a few years ago as part of StAnza Poetry Festival. The curator took various objects out of their cases to show us, and this golf ball was the one that sparked my curiosity. I know nothing about golf, and to be honest am not the slightest bit interested in the sport – which is why I signed up for the workshop in the first place as I like to jump into the unknown and into my least obvious areas of interest, as I find these can often throw up the most interesting results. The human story behind this battered but strangely beautiful ball was what intrigued me.
