2016 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 6

For today’s prompt, write a phobia poem. There are so many possible phobias from which to choose, including some of the more popular phobias like arachnophobia (fear of spiders), claustrophobia (fear of confined spaces), acrophobia (fear of heights), and coulrophobia (fear of clowns).

Here’s a list of 200 common phobias.


2017_poets_marketOrder the New Poet’s Market!

The 2017 Poet’s Market, edited by Robert Lee Brewer, includes hundreds of poetry markets, including listings for poetry publications, publishers, contests, and more! With names, contact information, and submission tips, poets can find the right markets for their poetry and achieve more publication success than ever before.

Order your copy today!

In addition to the listings, there are articles on the craft, business, and promotion of poetry–so that poets can learn the ins and outs of writing poetry and seeking publication. Plus, it includes a one-year subscription to the poetry-related information on WritersMarket.com. All in all, it’s the best resource for poets looking to secure publication.

Click to continue.


Here’s my attempt at a Phobia poem:


Here we are again:
And it doesn’t matter
if we fall back
or spring forward,
I’m still paralyzed
by the thought
of time passing
even when it doesn’t
and all in the name
of saving time.


roberttwitterimageRobert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of the poetry collection, Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). He edits Poet’s Market and Writer’s Market, in addition to writing a free weekly WritersMarket.com newsletter and a poetry column for Writer’s Digest magazine.

He loves a lot of things on this planet, but daylight savings time is not on that list.

Follow him on Twitter @robertleebrewer.


Find more poetic goodies here:


You might also like:

  • No Related Posts

108 thoughts on “2016 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 6

  1. ToniBee3


    it’s spine-chilling to
    spot a speckled spy
    spacewalking down
    the spotlit wall of a
    sport-n-spa as I lie
    sprawled out on the
    splendor-table… until…
    I sprang up to see
    the spreading of its
    spreaders too close
    to my spirit and my
    spine at which time I
    go splatty-splat-splat!

  2. JRSimmang

    Between 12 and 14

    My, my, Friday’s happ’nin’ by,
    a windy gale is tippin’ the sky.
    Grey clouds, too, act none too shy,
    on this, the 13th, that’s happ’nin’ by.

    makes them all hem and haw,
    got them slingin’ from the jaw,

    Too much a mouthful to say it right,
    and on the page a frightful sight,
    but thirteen’s got a lot o’ might,
    snuffin’ a candle’s flame outright.

    13, it’s odd, that this one’s frightnin’,
    striking into the heart light lightnin’,
    when 7, or 10, 63 might’n
    be as bad or worser frightnin’.

    40 years them people wandered.
    666 treasures squandered.
    Infinite number of thoughts been pondered,
    But 13’s kept on and on it wandered.

    All it took was one black scourge,
    a number to play the funeral dirge.
    These things drive a man to the verge,
    because of that one black scourge.

    But 13, well that’s just a number,
    one that’s deep and dark in slumber,
    until that day it starts to lumber,
    and becomes more than just a number.

    13, boo!, it’s right behind ya!

    -JR Simmang

  3. jgweber1221

    (the fear of cliffs)

    Starting is simple. He knows
    he won’t be afraid to look down,
    halfway to the top and no
    safety in sight. The effort
    is welcome: hand over hand,
    toes jammed into crevices.
    Light tremors in the arms
    and a tightness above the knees.
    He is eager for callouses
    and a sharp wind against
    his legs. At the top there is
    a plateau but his breath
    doesn’t come easier. At the top
    this collaboration of rocks
    and angles becomes a cliff
    instead of a challenge
    and he must admit
    his ascent has changed
    nothing. In dreams he
    still won’t try to fly.

  4. Shennon

    I fear all things political
    Underhanded and criminal
    Media coverage can’t be minimal
    It’s hard to stay respectable

    But this fear’s ingrained too deep
    I cover my head to sleep
    I don’t wish to whine and complain
    But wake me after election day.


  5. foodpoet


    They say I have Entamaphobia.
    No I say I fear no doors
    Opened or closed that do not spin.

    They say I have agoraphobia.
    No I say.
    I have no fear of small places.

    Call it what it is Spinophobia revolaphobia
    I can swirl spin rotate so no.
    But give me a flat door, dutch door
    French doors, sliding doors
    I walk them all.

    But I need a shiver
    Panic moment
    At pushing a revolving

  6. tobysgirl


    I froze at Woodstock ’99.

    Not from the cold,
    it was pretty hot there.
    I sat on the grass and did not move
    for hours
    as people walked all around
    swinging their arms, and hips
    and $4 water bottles and their joints and
    hash pipes.

    I could not move from that spot on the small hill
    while I listened to the Counting Crows and James Brown,
    the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Dave Matthews Band.

    Rocking back and forth helped,
    but not much.

    So much fear,
    stopping me from enjoying the music and
    time with my brother.

  7. tripoet


    Beware all you elites:

    I think that there is a special place
    in hell
    for anyone
    who makes anyone
    feel less
    for writing words of rhyme
    meant to express
    their better nature.

  8. PSC in CT

    Shades of Meaning

    A woman
    of few words

    fears the power
    that they wield
    (knows all too well
    the damage
    they may do.)

    She’s troubled
    by the thought
    that they might
    come back
    to haunt her

    she’s sore afraid
    of ghosts too.)

  9. LadyBug5162

    Creepy Crawly

    Creepy crawly
    Slithering sliding
    Busy hiding
    Ready to jump
    Ready to drop
    Land on your head
    Make you hop
    Make you squeal
    Make you squirm
    Make you go a-a-c-k
    Give you a heart attack

  10. Pat Walsh

    fear of next
    by Patrick J. Walsh

    in the gray of morning
    she sat silently
    at the edge of the sea
    drenched in moonlight
    warm but for the wind
    tugging gently at her ear

    don’t worry, don’t worry
    it whispered
    there is nothing in the water
    for you to fear

  11. Jezzie


    I’ve a fear of eight
    and especially of late
    I’ve started to really hate
    those that have smaller mates
    who weave webs across doorways and gates.
    But worse are those big monsters who sit and wait
    in corners of my room before they skate
    across the floor heading straight
    for me, who is in a great state
    at the sight of those eight
    creepy legs.

  12. MeenaRose

    I always seemed to know;
    It always started with nightmares;
    A wolf’s howl, a bear’s growl, a shark’s kiss;
    Puppy kisses, kitten hisses, billy dances;
    Scary or cute, it was a nightmare all the same.

    A phobia, so illogically conceived,
    That endures,
    Lies dormant, waiting
    For me to be with child;
    Rehashing fears and unleashing terror.

    What if the little one is not human?
    What if he/she has fur? Claws or a beak?
    What if he/she has a dorsal fin?
    Hooves, they have them for sure;
    Man beast or werebaby of that I am sure.

    ~ Meena Rose

  13. Julieann


    Slithering, slinking,
    Black, brown, or multi-colored
    Thin, fat, round head,
    Triangular head
    I’m not staying around
    Long enough to assess
    Head shape
    Poisonous, non-poisonous
    Who cares? I don’t!
    Curled by the back door
    Entering the house
    It can have it, I am leaving
    There is no room for both
    The snake and I

  14. James Von Hendy

    Mount Ellen, Vermont

    My brother clings to rocks above
    the tree line as if gravity

    would undo itself were he lax
    enough to let go. Nothing changed

    in pitch or incline save a dearth
    of trees. He squats among boulders.

    Never mind, his equilibrium,
    were it true, would send them tumbling

    into sky and he become
    a bird fleeting toward the sun.

    We feel our truth in blood and bone.
    Harrowing the hawk’s eye view,

    a world spinning beneath the wing.
    His feet of clay, his body air.

  15. shellkaysm

    Naming Fear (Dizdain poem)

    I think I’m mostly a Mazeophobe,
    if I were asked to put a name to fear.
    I’m scared of getting lost upon this globe.
    Driving places unknown, both far and near
    makes my heart palpitate into my ear.
    When I look out, beyond my mind’s clatter
    past day-to-day noise and pitter-patter,
    lies another worry, its ache the same.
    The fear is a question. Do I matter?
    Athazagoraphobia: it’s name.


This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.