Poem Quicksand Phobia
April 1, 2017 5:09am CST
Quicksand Phobia My fear of quicksand started with Ice Cold In Alex. The old John Mills film about A World War Two ambulance on a bold Behind enemy lines mission right out In the desert when Anthony Quinn falls In the mire sinking, unable to cry out Because of making radio calls To the enemy he serves as a spy. Now even walking on a muddy croft Gives me hot sweats and heart palpitations. Thinking that solid concrete will go soft Is enough to fuel my reservations And I’m never going to Morecambe Town; There’s real quicksand there in which to drown. When Tarzan’s friend Jane fell in quicksand I’d make some lame excuse and disappear But now I try to understand In an effort to face up to my fear. I’ve even looked up quicksand on the net, To see what advice they offer in case I ever have the misfortune to really get Stuck in a swamp in some God-awful place Only to find my phobia is a fetish For those who like deep mud as somewhere to play And make love while they sink making me wish I was turned on by quagmires rather than having to turn away. Nowadays I cope with quicksand films sure enough, But there is no way I’m going out looking for the stuff. Arthur Chappell
9 people like this
4 Apr 17
Interesting, imaginative poem. I don't know if it is a type of quicksand or just a very soft bottomed lake. Once while getting out of my kayak I stepped into the water and began to sink. I sunk up to my thighs and I thought it was the end of me. I was panicking. Somehow I worked myself out of there. One leg wasnt' quite as far in. I was holding my kayak. I am very careful now!