Ode to a Buyer Unfulfilled--a poem

Ode to a Buyer Unfulfilled

Real estate is so much fun,
No game of mystery!
Why, everyone's an expert,
at least they seem to be!

They all express opinions,
And seem so very sure,
They know the true direction,
Of housing trends d'jour!

The times the market's hot to touch,
And realtors all say "Buy!",
The experts all just tend to grouch,
"The prices are to high!"

"The market's going down!" they cry,
"Just wait and see", they say.
"If now's the time you want to buy,
You'll surely rue the day!"

So buyers watch the prices grow,
While waiting for the fall.
Keep paying rent with all their dough,
Their experts on the ball!

The years go by and prices rise,
So far it makes one spin!
The housing experts still advise,
"Just wait! You're sure to win!"

Then, when the market tends to slow,
They smirk and look so wise,
And chime right out, "I told you so!"
Just as the buyer dies!

Mark Worden
10/29/05

Golfing--a poem

Golfing

Oh, to split a fairway in the middle,
with a ball hit like a rope!
Alas, for me it's but a riddle,
with no answer, with no hope!

I took heed of all the lessons,
and read up on all the books,
with expectation of golf's blessings,
elimination of my hooks!

But, despite my efforts to succeed,
my balls just don't take flight,
unless to areas well treed,
and into darkness as the night!

I'm told to keep my elbow straight,
and swing so very slow,
but then it seems the club is late,
and makes a glancing blow!

So, then I deign to speed my pace,
and make a mighty slash,
a grimace set upon my face,
my ball sails left, and splash!

The game of golf seems just like life,
a challenge to the will,
an occupation filled with strife,
where every drive's uphill!

Each round seems like a painful birth,
of some new found disaster!
One wonders if it's ever worth,
returning to the pasture!

But here I am, up on the tee,
with great anticipation!
Perhaps today will be for me,
a game of exclamation!

Mark Worden
Encinitas
9/15/05

Ants--a poem

Ants

A long black line,
Determined!,
Meanders across a counter,
In my Kitchen!

I am attacked!,
By multitudes,
Of tiny beings,
with attitude!

Their destination,
A cat's crumb,
Smothered in a swirl,
Of gluttony!

Minute beings,
In peril of ultimate,
Destruction,
By WMDs!

Unknowingly,
Pursuing life,
In conflict with,
A higher intelligence!

Windex spray,
With ammonia,
Breaks their ranks,
The movement stops!

The long black line,
Is wiped away,
As easily as,
Dust!

A skirmish,
In a continuing war,
Against a foe,
Without end!

Mark Worden
Encinitas
9/9/05

Katrina--A poem

Katrina

It's breezy today!
The sun shines,
In the hazy sky,
Not quite warm,
But trying!

I'm unsettled!
Awakened at three am,
Drawn to CNN images,
Of the aftermath,
Of Katrina!

My nightmare,
Unreal in the night,
It could not happen,
In that wonderful place,
A flickering glare on TV!

Islands of humanity,
Marooned by the sea,
Pushed by a breeze,
On steroids, circulating,
Causing havoc!

Dots wading in water,
Waist deep, towing boxes,
Like barges,
Filled with what's left,
Of life!

Hands reaching skyward,
From a mass of hunger,
Seeking manna,
From those above,
Unable to respond!

Lives lost,
Among those weakest,
Now flotsom,
In the flow,
Of rivers newly formed,

Katrina! A name,
No longer romantic,
A song,
Never to be written,
Unless in sorrow!

Mark Worden
9/2/05