The Spring Market’s Worn - Or - 'sell In May And Go Away'

The spring market’s worn,
intraday charts hearts warn;
by evening at seven
all margin’s in pawn.

The lark’s lost its (s) wing
though some siren still sing, -
no God and no heaven -
all's wrong, buyers mourn!

The worm’s in the bud,
the spring sees fall’s thud,
cheek earns cheeks too dew-pearl’d,
earns gold turned to mud.

Rosy tassels are torn,
nosy hassles are born,
thorny protests are hurled,
cosy nest-eggs o’er-drawn.

Markdown sours everything -
triple witching hour’s sting -
stockmarket wrings hands
hope at bell’s ring disbands.

Bears fête, bulls foresworn,
short sale corners scorn,
the blue flags are furled -
all’s red with the world!

by Jonathan ROBIN

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.