Long Phobia Poems
Long Phobia Poems. Below are the most popular long Phobia by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Phobia poems by poem length and keyword.
I've often heard,
Guns do not kill,
and people do.
I've often thought,
Words do not curse,
but people do.
Both are right
and wrong.
Our words
and guns
and uncivil enculturation,
bad habits
and addictions
fascinations
relentless Win/Lose competitions,
disenchantments
mutual divestments
despairing ego-centriments,
isolation
paranoia
xenophobia
homophobia
germophobia
racial phobia,
terror and terrorism
together curse
and kill.
Guns with owners
too often hear
words with full-volume cursing
swords
ballistic piercing kills
Any cooperatively owned and green-managed party,
political or otherwise.
Greatest Fear
Arachne turned spider by curse of Goddess
to weave and weave non- stop as lifelong process.
Baseless fear of spider is a stupid mania,
scientifically termed ‘Arachne Phobia’.
Africa is the zone of primitive human being,
where dreadful poisonous black spider was wandering.
Into human genes intrusion of spider phobia
is more or less developed since long ancient era.
Mom, me, and all my siblings younger or older,
each is scared just by look of spider, my worst fear.
Once we stayed in a house encircled by tall trees,
spreading long branches to touch windows at ease.
Off and on spiders took chances to enter threatening me.
To kill by one stroke of broom was the duty of my hubby.
One day my little daughter rushed from dining room,
yelling ’Large spider is chasing me. Come with the broom.’
What to do! I felt so helpless, so scared of venom
I was alone puzzled and hubby was not at home.
No alternative, I had to be valorous.
Just by single stroke I killed the furious.
05/15/16
Your Greatest Fear Poetry Contest by Lewis Raynes.
By thirteen I was quite tall—
Five-foot seven—friends were small
Always tallest in my class
On school lines—was always last.
Friends were shorter, more petite
Always looked to size-up feet
Compare shoes, I do not fib
Was self-conscious—mine were big.
Their size five to seven, fine—
I was BigFoot! Mine was nine!
Teenage complex anguished me
BigFoot phobia, you see!
Later friends caught up with me
Height and feet grew handily
Soon size nine in grownup form
Looked upon as kind of norm.
Thinking back on “BigFoot” years
To fit in, drove me to tears!
Teenage stresses to compete—
Happy now with normal feet!
© Sandra M. Haight 2015
All Rights Reserved
~3rd Place~
Contest: BigFoot
Sponsor: Skat A
Judged: 05/07/2015
This feels too much like deja vu,
the days and nights of a biblioklept.
It’s what the book-bosomed must do,
taking in every chapter as you slept.
Being such an omnilegent person
it’s hard to run across something fresh.
Reading’s such pure introverted fun,
with each word I want gooseflesh.
I wander to each town bouquiniste
on the lookout for a page turner.
I’m hungry for a clever plot twist,
that story that’s an acid burner.
There is no place I would rather be
then inhaling the scent of this paper.
Serene and content in a lectory
escaping into a wild fictional caper.
I love to go running through my head
inside a space where I have no phobia.
While in reality I am filled with dread
suffering from debilitating abibliophobia.
From depths of fear she hovers on a chair to escape
No place of concealment found behind window or door
Curse the creeping shadows crawling all over the floor
Whispers softly, lest phantoms catch her sleeping
Wild eyes of terror from which tears no longer fall
The woman continues to hear echoes of death's call
Scant the clothes she wears; phobia of blood stains
On her feet, socks of purest white, worn perpetually
to signal the flow; another tide of a carnage red sea
Upon the chair she trembles, safe circle above the floor
Her climb up the crevices of the abyss is hard to visualize
and far beyond my capability to comprehend or scrutinize
*Image of focus was provided by the sponsor.
+==========+==========+==========+
2/23/16
Visualize-Scrutinize-Remark Contest: Malta Forever
The dreamers
She has fallen asleep in the living room, watching TV
I feel guilty should have joined her, but soap opera, do my head in
Now, I am going to sit near her on the sofa and when she wakes up
She will think I have been sitting there all the time
She will be happy and hold my hands
I have promised her tomorrow, we are going for a drive along the coast
Stop for coffee and a cake, and watch the young swimmers frolicking
She will tell me again at the time she was a stewardess and danced
The tango in Buenos Aires, not to be outdone, I will tell a story from
The time when I was young, omitting the women thing-
She had a great time while I spent much time reading books and
Dreaming in the ship’s cabin, I had no the courage to live the life
Unless I was sozzled and my phobia of the outdoors ran my life, about
The jolly man who knew tomorrow, the fear would return.
FEAR TO OVERCOME
Fundamentally fear formed from forceful stress
Enters mind endangering efficiency.
Acts awfully against analytic approach
Rolls, rustles, ripples in reproach.
Try to transcend with tact and competence.
Oblivious solution lies in dependence on self-confidence.
Out of fear, don’t lose your gear.
Value your skill in every venture driving out fear.
Endeavor on dauntless effort.
Remove also, phobia sprung from stupid reflex.
Chase fear challenging nervousness.
Overcoming fear welcome struggle.
More you are afraid more you will miss.
Entry of bravery on exit of fear factor.
08/30/21
Adrian Monk
was in a funk,
Till he got
assistants.
But this particular case
held him in a space,
With which he felt
resistance.
That I can't blame
I feel the same--
Phobia of everything
dental--
Can you, too, admit
while you had to sit,
To a dentist ever being
un-gentle?
Well, anywho,
before this is through,
You'll want to know: here's
what happened--
Anesthesia's effects
blurred the suspects
But despite tooth torture,
Monk tracked 'em!
They took a big model tooth--
Slammed it in front of a sleuth--
But the patient was all in a daze!
(Till big toothmarks seen on the body
Revealed something shoddy,
They thought he was just in a craze!)
But Monk proved Randy saw
dentists breaking the law.
--A murder mystery
planned--
This means, of course,
Lt. Disher's back on the force,
Giving up his rock band.
[Start Sleuthing Poetry Contest
Rhyme poetry form only.
Deadline: Wednesday, August 31, 2022
Sponsored by: Natasha L Scragg]
Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia
An irrational fear of large or long words
Well, you might say that’s for the birds
And it’s your right to have your say
A hippopotamus for most of us
Is an Artiodactyla, an even toed ungulate
While monstrum in Latin means: unnatural things
A monstrosity, a warning from the gods
While as showoffs, sesquipedalians use long words
So don’t scare them with your Titan Arum
But say to those with Ithyphallophobia
Or to the megalophallian “Nostrvia!”
And don’t be calloused towards
What happens afterwards
Or averse to what happens after “words”
In the post coital spooning
Don’t let your creative inhibition
Be the condition of wrestling with tabula rasa
And don’t let coitus interruptus
Or a caudal Janus face give you writer’s block
(I’m trying to be a gentleman
by calling it a phallus and not a rooster)
So, you won’t find here this fear of
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Beyond the boisterous bustle I go,
I find the way, I want to know,
You think twice, you don't deny,
You fill me up, you help me die.
Wishes with wisps wobble about,
I love with passion that dubious doubt,
You break in, you sing too loud,
You send the rain back to the clouds.
I traverse inverse in a psychosomatic realm,
I begin to grow dicey, till virtues overwhelm,
You say a soft prayer, you invoke the crowd,
You unwrap the dull and mysterious shroud.
I take an identity, I throw the idea,
I imbibe new courage from an emerging phobia,
You tread across the air, you begin tantalising,
You become transparent, you turn enterprising.
I don't recognise the Prince of Denmark,
I bump into Prufrock in a children's park,
You happen to be on the wings of poesy,
You strike out the light for Darkness to see.
I see the skylark vanishing into the forest of the night,
I do not stand alone watching the angels fight,
You pick up a ravishing red red rose somehow,
You draw the stringent curtain, you forget to bow.
The world's not a stage, neither are we players,
We exist in the void, we supplicate to the layers,
I being nowhere, where's no water to drink,
You come upon as Godot until we don't sink,
I pantomime the hour, that often struts and frets,
You hold the flaming alter, in a packet of cigarettes!