Market Poetry

By Hannah S.

Author’s Note: I’m a 14 year old horse lover and wrote this poem after cantering for the first time! I hope you enjoy it!

By Market Poetry

Has the fickle market made you mad?
Has a trade of yours turned very bad?
Rest assured—you’re not alone!
Many portfolios have been whittled to bone.
More than that, good news I share
So listen closely, both bull and bear:
Salvation, my friend is not far from home
Just make it to the end of this poem.
The secret to riches I will tell
And it ain’t CNBC or a magic spell.
Forget about getting rich quick
That’s nothing but a marketing trick.
Please ignore your broker’s advice
You’re better off in Vegas, rolling the dice.
Wall Street reports are a silly caper
Good for nothing but toilet paper.
And penny stocks won’t reach the skies
Unless you place them on top of management’s lies.
If you are seeking to amass much wealth
While keeping your sanity and your health,
The trick, I say, for how to win
Is but one word: discipline.
Speculation and trading you must curtail
The same for margin and short sale.
Quality is what you need to find
And buy it when it’s in a bind.
Find a company with a solid past
Profitable through this cycle and last.
What is sells might be a bore
So long as profits roll right through the door.
On its future there should be no doubt
That it’ll be around ten years out.
Make sure it doesn’t hold much debt
And some yield would be nice to get.
Management should be truthful and straight
Shareholder value they love to create.
When such a company you come across
Wait for it to take a short term loss
Like consistent growth, temporarily bent
Or missing earnings by a cent.
The analysts will all grade down
And call the CEO a clown.
The stock’s price will drop very fast
Popular affection does not long last.
When such quality goes to the bargain bin
Hold your breath and jump right in
For what today is out and down
In due time will turn aroun’.
So lock up those shares and throw out the key
You’ll be rich one day, if you trust me.
Stop following the market’s every trade
Patience is how fortunes are made.
Go out for dinner with your wife
Spend time with your kids, enjoy your life.
Eventually management will come shining through
That is what they’re paid to do.
By holding quality for year after year
Of much stress you can stay clear.
You’ll end up paying a lot less tax
And live a lifestyle much more lax.
In summation, I will repeat
That you’re better off ignoring the Street.
The trick, I say, for how to win
Is but one word: discipline.

Editor’s Note: You don’t have to be a poet to write for Market Poetry. Give it a shot!

By J. Sotabinda

I’m mere wood transformed to paper
And adorned and bestowed numbers,
But I’m most powerful;
No one can live without me:
I make those who have me
Reach their every end;
Those who have me know no hunger,
Not much pangs nor tightropes,
And can crack all their nuts.
I’m so powerful in such a way that
Those who dearly love me
Even serve and respect me,
Worship and adore me
As their own god.
But I’m not a fair and just deity:
I make them my slaves;
My power has a fiendish price to pay:
I give them all they want
And make sure of their every whim,
But I make them toil and wear
Their souls with unrest.
And even when they have me well,
I still make them leave me only when death,
Who’s the only one stauncher than me
Comes and carries them to the netherworld.

Author’s Note: Hope this poem reaches the heart of every man.

By Market Poetry

There is one stock I’d never buy
It trades by the ticker W-F-M-I

It sells food for silly prices
Like organic prunes and fancy rices

Why people shop there I’ll never learn
They must have extra cash to burn

The shocking thing is to me
That their margins don’t beat W-M-T

Low net margins on food high-priced
Means SG&A must be sharply sliced

Differentiating its wares from the competition
Seems to me an impossible mission

Now let’s look at valuation
Its multiples among the highest in the nation

For years the P/E has been in the sky
From stocks like these I quickly shy

You know what happens when you chase a fad
It climbs for a bit, then ends bad

With that said I did not short sell
For madness, I’ve learned, can linger and dwell

On Whole Foods I did not take a position
So my colleagues taunted for lacking ambition

They told me I must be a nut
To watch it climb and sit on my butt

Then they’d whisper into my ear
About this stock they hold so dear,
“Whole Foods is not like the rest,
This stock is simply among the best!”

And I’d say, “To the sky does not grow the tree
Mark my words, one day you’ll see!”

Revenge, perhaps, I’ve had this morning
Down 24% on a guidance warning

Inside I want to say, “Hey punk!
You deserve it for buying overpriced junk!”

But instead towards their desks I’ll stray
And with a swallowed grin ask, “How’s it going today?”

Editor’s Note: The author holds no position in Whole Foods Market Inc. (WFMI). Counterpoint submissions are welcome! Visit marketpoetry.com for more poems.

By Market Poetry

I know but this compared to men
That morrow lies beyond my ken

The scholars state, adjust, and claim
As for my strength, ’tis not the same
But knowing what’s within my game

The narrow circle is marked but clear
At the border I perhaps dance near
But as for yonder I do not peer

And since these rules I do not bend
Faith I hold in a lovely end

Editor’s Note: We’d rather post your stuff than ours–submissions welcome!

To be sung to the tune of Simon and Garfunkel’s “Mrs. Robinson”

By: Anonymous

And here’s to you, Mr. Oracle
Off the balance sheet that cash must go, wo wo wo
God bless you please, Mr. Oracle
Heaven holds a place for those who pay, hey hey hey
Hey hey hey

We’d like to have a little bit from you and your piles
We’d like to help you put that cash to work
Look around you, all you see are unattractive buys
Please dole out those mounds, until we pay our loans

And here’s to you, Mr. Oracle
Off the balance sheet that cash must go, wo wo wo
God bless you please, Mr. Oracle
Heaven holds a place for those who pay, hey hey hey
Hey hey hey

Where that cash will go no one ever knows
So put in our pockets, sense that makes
It’s a little silly, just the billions sitting there
Most of all you’ve got to pay it—I’ve got kids

Coo coo ca-choo, Mr. Oracle
Shareholders love you more than you will know, wo wo wo
God bless you please, Mr. Oracle
Heaven holds a place for those who pay, hey hey hey
Hey hey hey

Sitting on that cash in a low interest account
Unexcited by the bank’s low rate, yah
Laugh about it, shout about it
When you’ve got to choose
Every way you look at it we lose

What will you do, Mr. Oracle?
Your shareholders turn their needy eyes to you, woo woo woo
What’s that you say, Mr. Oracle?
Cheap stocks have left and gone away, so just pay
Hey hey hey