Taking fright

In Competition No. 2766 you were invited to submit a poem about a phobia.

John Samson’s account of what strikes me as a perfectly reasonable fear of Ikea flatpacks stood out in what was another cracking entry. Bill Greenwell, Brian Allgar, Josephine Boyle and W.J. Webster also shone.

The prizewinners are printed below and rewarded with £25 each; Alan Millard takes the bonus fiver.

I have no need to dig or dive or delve Into the root or cause of my malaise, The legacy of London 2012 Will mar forever my remaining days; I fear those hostile promptings: ‘Let’s rejoice And follow in the footsteps of the best! Embrace some taxing torture of your choice And join the joggers, gymnasts and the rest!’ Now terror fills my breast when I behold These horrifying spectres flying past On trainers, skateboards, cycles, young and old, Whose frantic need for speed leaves me aghast. Oh, let me vegetate and drown in drink This dread of movement, moderate or aerobic, For ‘fear of motion’ is the mark, I think, Of how it feels to be kinetophobic.