Best Phobia Poems
No flame within!
do I hold for you
no delightful delicacy
shall I put to rhyme.
No picturesque words
in italics of your
woeful wildlife, no
acknowledgement of
the ancient mariner, he
that crossed the margin
of our “Atlas of the world.”
(Still in use, [I believe] in the
old stone museum.)
One can easily live in fear
of your many mordant moods,
to see you capture the
embracing horizon, where warring
clouds fondle the sunlight,
and the departing QE 2 is
reduced to microcosm.
How can one live in awe of
you, when at the end of each
day you snatch at the light of
sustenance, therefore
giving license to the veil
of damnation, soon to be cast
out of the east, driving impending
fears to languish upon the
unholy waters of the Styx?
(An extraction of the mind,
an evaporation of the memory
the spray dried brain
tossed into oblivion.)
Yet each morning an
interval to one’s ongoing
nightmare, when with renewed
levitation, the new light reprieved!
Begins avidly it’s universal
journey across Manukau’s
“Pack ‘n’ Save” Car park.
Oh yes! It is so easy to hate you;
you that brought the rest of
the world here, you that constitutes
a world within a world, that,
where the cycle of life creates it’s
own constitution, each player
judged on cue, to become an act of
fodder, mobile supermarkets
in ferocious competition with
nothing at all to give.
“Unless death itself is a gift!”
Upon the surface your
treachery still lingers, there,
tenacious tentacles lurk
within the sedulous surf,
groping blindly at sedated
rocks, those pinnacles of sanctuary
that harbour the weary,
support the rod.
Only when gravitation truly
intervenes, does the perpetual
invasion subside, leaving one in
no doubt about your promiscuity!
© Harry J Horsman 1993
My secret is a phobia that many would not guess.
Bringing me much anguish and quite a lot of stress.
Some say that it is silly, to me it is immense.
Causing me to detour, incurring more expense.
I keep my phobia secret for fear I’m thought to be
Wacky and ridiculous and also cowardly.
And so I travel many miles until I find, at last.
A station that’s full service so they can pump my gas.
You may think this is foolish but I have thought this through.
And I have many reasons for thinking as I do.
So much I have imagined could possibly take place.
A series of unfortunate events I’d hate to face.
For instance, there’s the nozzle, already filled with fuel.
It can be very dangerous and such a deadly tool.
What if the gas should suddenly begin to gush and flow?
It is a possibility I do not want to know.
And when the nozzle is in place, it is really there?
Or will the gasoline start splashing out and everywhere.
Will it drip onto my car or maybe on my shoes?
Later on igniting – of this I often muse.
I therefore watch my gas gauge very carefully.
And then I fill it often because I fear to be.
Forced to stop at self-serve when my fuel is low.
Because there is no telling the way the gas might flow.
In the phlebotomy room,
there came a woman
And a man
And their lad
Inquiring, queuing
‘My blood, I give to you;
draw and draw freely,
I have no qualms’
The lad started,
Responding, boasting
‘Yes, you can draw
by every means you choose
save with this needle!’
The lad protested,
Sobbing, struggling
Zen-A-Phobia
Bring me home,
to live with you
in gardens of blue-
light blue.
Magnify the plot
Of treasures stored
Gifts of giving
Giving, giving,
Evermore, evermore…
Dead
Do you remember the past?
I slowly kill myself
Afraid of this day
It will never come
It will always come
Man,living being,you....
...death also afraid of death?
My fear is not death
My phobia is being dead.
Puberty
Did she not tell you?
With her untruthful tongue
And her wrinkled face
That you soon become a maiden
With breast on your past dry chest
Didn't she tell you ?
Macho men will come
They will penetrate you
With their piecing manhood
Didn't she tell you ?
That you will have offspring
I feel your unending disgust for womanhood
I fear for you
But she told you.
Birth
Haven't they torment you enough?
The unborn kicked your unwilling stomach
They have stayed in you
Many market days
You carried the pain of ejima
We know,we all know
Your anguish,extreme fright
Oh daughter of deity
bring forth your duo
For the one that is killed
Is the one that you keep.
Death
The journey will always end
With my eyes closed
And my soul goes to another....
....your progeny
Who at puberty will give birth to another you and me
I see your fear
I see your phobia.
I have always gotten lost easily. I recall
feeling frustrated and inept as a young driver.
Over the years, frustration morphed into heart-pounding,
fear that became like an insurmountable wall.
Directions provided by patient, well-meaning people
have often included "You CAN'T miss it." Oh, really?!
How many times have I driven in circles in a strange place
feeling scared, incompetent, and downright silly?
To make matters worse, I’ve always been surrounded
by people blessed with a reliable sense of direction.
They seldom get lost. When they do, they don’t panic.
They wonder why I do. They have no clue!
Now the GPS has ended all my anxiety. Right?
I now claim a somewhat less unfortunate plight;
I'm more confident than in pre-GPS days, BUT
I know devices, like people, are not infallible!
I recently learned that my fear of getting lost has a name,
MAZEPHOBIA!
October 13, 2021
Contest: Your Kryptonite Placed 9th
Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco
The rush the energy that flowed within.
It came through me like a sin.
The wind wisped a quiet tone.
Even though it had hardly blown.
Once again my friend.
All alone.
But, are we true to it?
Have you had enough of it?
Heart beats picking up in pace.
Dodging trees in some devilish race.
But to where?
But why?
Should I have opened my eyes?
Earlier in the night was fine.
Not a drip of liquid gold to the ears.
Not a sound for the world to hear.
But now the growls.
The intent to kill.
The fear crept up and meant to fill.
The soul from within.
From the darkness it may begin.
The fleeting of the hairs.
From no care?
From not a single worry in the world.
To the stomach twirled.
Has my mind played another trick on me?
Or is there something I cannot see.
Behind the veil of the dark he stood.
Staring me down from under his hood.
The man was grim.
His smile had crept.
With one swift motion he bent down and he swept.
All of my fears came to reality.
I saw you personally, full fledged brutality.
Off came my arm, my life force wept.
Blood spilled over the leaves below.
That ringing kept me sane, Shooting up to look out the window.
Still dark.
Just a dream.
Once again my friend.
We're together in this, the fault is ours
withhold the explanation
we'll share the blame.
"Not in this life! my take is already on the billboard"
Now is the time to stick together
holding each other, sharing one umbrella
until this trying moment is over.
"No way! I'm definitely leaving the squad".
On the first sight of danger
and an unpleasant situation of horror.
'Forgive me! but I'm stepping backwards"
Persistence pays
refined is the product coming through thick and thin
be a risk taker and have guts.
"Please, I don't need the award".
Now is the time let's seize the moment
a fool is the person who kicks opportunities away.
"You go ahead, I'll do that afterwards"
It's all about sacrifices
subject yourself to undue limitations
for the benefit of your next generation.
"hell No! I'm definitely going overboard"
The battle may seem bigger
but you're more than capable
examine the challenge, but focus on your strength.
"Thank you! But I'm dropping my sword"
Be unique, be different
don't follow the crowd
be a trail blazer and a pace setter.
"So that I stand odd?"
On the road to glory and a monster appears
despite the capability to overcome
he deviates from going goalwards.
His achievements make neighbours bored
his fury towards strain makes him seem awkward
and his strong will becoming flatter than an Apple Keyboard
What a being! His excellency, Mr. Coward.
As the festive season on, people look forward
One woman with an impending sense of doom
The thought of the man in red get squirmed
As her parents used to drag her to sit on Santa’s lap.
Her terror booms up if Santa is in the vicinity
A severe Phobia of Father Christmas grown.
Barring her even to watch the TV programs
For the fear of Christmas advert will come on.
The phobia may be common among the young
But phobia typically left behind in her adulthood
Makes her feel sorry for any children she will have
She’ll never be taking them to see Santa’s Grotto.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The poem is based on a true story published in a recent newspaper
Date 2-1-14
Tenth Place win
standing in the line i feel the pressure, scolding, start to build,
i feel their each and every iris as they climb the height of my structure,
this fortress i was forced, by fear in youth, to unearth and bare in hand,
with time has weathered thin and i with it feel increasingly translucent.
mutter and glance, hands attempt to contain their maintenance.
to look and to listen, not a single tone to note or color to perceive.
their contaminants infiltrate my ventilation, the stench is sickening,
pulse erratic and mind askew, i flee, steps fueled by incubated haste,
cause comes to such effect even the beaten path is bruised by its confusion.
the archway constitutes a sigh and with that a slow of pace,
fumbling finger over fidget, pocket full with whispers coaching panic on its way.
the breathe of smoking paranoia shrugs a calming gesture.
a wink of timid silliness and nurtured nature bring to mind,
how, even aware of relevance, dissimulation fogs the clouds.
I am pan-phobic,
but can also be phonic
when not in panic.
The room’s just very creepy
I cannot get to sleepy
And now I must go pee pee
I’m a child stuck in bed
Mom and Dad are down the hall
Can they even hear at all?
Okay, okay, I’m gonna have to call
Because of monsters in my head
So quickly, loudly now I shout
Mom! Dad! Are you about?!?
They didn’t hear, without a doubt
This monster might get fed
Hurry Mommy and Daddy, I need you!
What would you rather have me do?
Quickly, pleeeeease, oh this can’t be true
I just now wet my bed
Phobia
Once in Paris, I was going to a venue reading poetry, the hotelier told me to take
the subway as it was easy. After being a fender for busy people I found my train
and suffocated. First stop, I ran off and found myself at a strange part of the city,
sweating and shaking like d drunk who had been on a bender for a fortnight.
Phobia! I didn´t even know I had one, my pipe dream of being a u-boat captain
had sunk in a hole of terror. My instinct, when lost in a strange place, is to find
the nearest tavern/bars, there are many taverns in Paris it was easy to find one.
I had Pernod, not that I like this drink, but after all I was in France; to blend in
I wore a black beret given to me by a relative of my wife who runs a hat factory
in Lyon, and I had had garlic bread for breakfast. But was unable to lift the glass,
my left hand wouldn´t let me, the right hand blankly refused and pretended to
be lame. Finally hiding, behind the Guardian- an English newspaper for people
who see themselves as liberal socialists-. I gulped down the horrid drink. It did
wonders. So I ordered a whisky, I was a hero, nothing could scare me
as I walked bravely out into busy streets full of people who looked at me as if they
had not seen a beret before, and looked for a taxi.
Are you a boy
Or are you a girl?
Are you human
Or a mural?
Can I manipulate you
Like clay?
Can I warp your sense of logic
By the twisted thoughts I say?
Fearing what I can't explain
Knowing what I know isn't right
Succumbing to the wave of fright
Humanity believes is a fight
Logic dictates
So I must anticipate
That society won't advance
Due to the present circumstance.
In a room alone, suddenly you see two bright eyes peeking inside.
But vigilant eyes find only a sheath of light.
Still you wonder ……it is what it is or…………..is it?
Going up on thirteenth floor in an elevator.
Look up and you know it would surely shoot up in the sky.
Landing safely…….you wonder…..it is what it is or………is it?
Walking through will-o'-the-wisp and creaking woods.
You realize someone is walking behind.
Turn back and find no one around.
Shuddering badly you wonder ……it is what it is or…………..is it?
When your love for swimming makes you dive.
Deep inside, you see bubbles all around.
And those scary water creatures waiting to trap.
But then you see calm and clear water.
Still you wonder ……it is what it is or…………..is it?
Scary Cumulonimbus clouds morph like billowing sea.
And that flying ship sailing over your head!
Blinking your eyes……you wonder ……it is what it is or…………..is it?
Date:29th Nov; 2020
It is what it is..............or is it??? Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John lawless