By S. Doyle
The Ride
copyright S.Doyle, 1999
Death, cold as moonlight
Galloping mists, flashing cold
A sting, a kiss
A squish
Seeking, searching
Clop, chop
Clop, chop
Drip.
Drop.
By Ellie Beck
Has it been thirteen years,
since they lay you in the ground?
Shaded by the trees of Sleepy Hollow,
you lay in wait for me.
Each day as I think of you,
I can see you deep within me.
Haunting me, taunting me,
from underneith the earth of Sleep Hollow.
Why must I remember?
But alas I do,
and each day i visit.
Climbing the rocky wooded hills,
crossing the little wooden bridge.
It is a famous path to most,
but to me it is our path.
Nothing is more magical.
I love it here in Sleepy Hollow,
there is no where I am more contented.
My soul is lifted from me as I dance,
spinning across the graves of the ancient dead.
I can feel their presence as I entertain them,
I am never alone here.
Even when I want to be.
I count the moments until my time,
for I too will rest in Sleep Hollow.
Nestled peacefully amongst you,
quiet and reserved along side you.
Someday soon,
I too will be one of the ancient dead of Sleepy Hollow.
By John
It's getting darker now, bleaker.
The days have become stagnant and dim.
I can feel it in my bones,
and in the bitter, brisk air.
This is the time when he kills
when I go out at night,
he is there waiting.
I can sense him there!-
just waiting for the time,
the time when he kills.
Though I am practically blind,
I can feel his wicked presence,
testing me, Mocking me!-
waiting, and watching for that time,
the time when he kills.
Through the trees and mud I have trudged,
feeling all that lies beneath it,
in this rotten town of blood and murder.
I've dragged my somber body through the graveyard,
feeling even more dead than those unfortunate
decapitated souls under my feet.
Through these hazy eyes, I've witnessed and sensed the worse.
And most of all, I've heard it too!
Things you wouldn't ever believe!
The screaming, and choking on one's own blood-
All around the time, THE TIME!!!
That dreadful time, when one's darkest dreams
begin to breath, and come into being.
But the time, the time has to be right you see!!-
But me, I'm already too dead to die.
I've been aware of the suddenness of death all my life.
That is why he has waited so long for me, Understand!
He wants me dead more than anything else,
So you ask, will the time ever come for me?
Time, like death, is unsuspecting
and there I am at fault,
because he controls the time,
the time when he kills.
And now, as I walk across this muddy, decrepit bridge,
he is here, the time he has been waiting for all along.
I suddenly feel disconnected from my body,
unable to move, after a sharp and distinct pain.
I see mostly bluriness, but a dark silhouette
looms above me, on a demon of a horse.
It is he! The headless one!!!
And it is only then that the stark realization comes to me-
My time had come,
the time when he kills.
By Dave
To see sleepy hollow i would crawl face down in a ditch,
Christina Ricci is a foxy bitch.
This poem=sucks
sleepy hollow=good.
the haunting= bad.
By Susan Witt
Carved out like a pumpkin is this
a story where heads are a miss
a Phantom, a horse, and a hero of course
Burton's dark version is Bliss
Amid the damp of wood and moss
Of rotting leaves and evening frost
In New York's glens of deer and game
A tiny town - Sleepy Hollow, its name
Nestled in New England's breast
A town resembling all the rest
And though all towns may surely boast
A story or two about their ghosts
No such fiction, in song or verse
Could rival the truth of Sleepy Hollow's curse
Ironic, the town was named for "sleep"
For restful hours, few could keep
Its inhabitants - bleak eyes rimmed with red
All lived their days and nights in dread
Of the man WITHOUT A HEAD!
Each night, as 12 o'clock drew near
The streets of town were dark and clear
Rarely would one venture out
In fear of the specter lurking about!
For everyone was quite aware
Of what befell he who might dare
To wander out in the cold night air
And risk a surprise meeting there
Upon a horse, black as pitch
The demon satisfied his itch
Scouring the countryside on a tear
To replace what was no longer there
How he lost it, no one knew
Or why no head on his shoulders grew
Was it stolen like some say?
Misplaced while gone on holiday?
No matter how he lost his top
He was determined not to stop
Until he found a new one to chop
Woe to he who sealed his fate
By staying out much, much too late!
As soon as daylight hours grew dim
There was no chance of escaping him
But wait! No chance? There WAS one way
Should you find yourself astray
With the Headless Horseman at your heel
Coveting your head to steal
Turn and gallop toward the bridge
Around the meadow near the ridge
For even in the most ungodly hour
Beyond the bridge, HE HAS NO POWER!
But very few have made their escape
And gotten away without a scrape
Many bodies have never been found
Around that Sleepy Hollow town
I tell you all this to warn you, dear
There is nothing you could fear
That would compare to that sense of dread
Of meeting the man WITHOUT A HEAD!
The Heads will roll,
and some may pay the toll,
for the Headless horseman,
has came to town.
Be afraid, be scared, make sure you frown.
By brian skar
I've been drinking now since about eight o'c.olck or so and it is now around 12 or one, who knows. I've been on the internet looking at cool sleepy holleow websites bg and getting psyched up for the movei. Halloween is my favorite holiday and I can't wait until the movie comes out. First of all, I grew up on Disney's "The Legent of Sleepy Hollow" and Tim Burton movies. YOU DON'T KNOW HOW LONG I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS. sleepy hollow in the hands of tim burton witll be quite an event. \ damn this is good wine.
If you've read this far, then I'm impressed. I bet you get a lot of ass holes like me sending in stuff that isn't even poetry. I'm just drunk and want to see if anyone out there will actually read my retarded words. It's kind of interesting thinking that someone I don't even know is going to read this and get annoyed at how stoopid it is. If this wine didn't taste so good, i probably wouldnot have dtank so much and would be able to submit some poetry i'm actually proud of. But what do I know about poetry? I such actually. Bukowski... now there's a poet. Actually he's just a dirty old man who writes shit that people assume is poetry for lack of any other definition. but whatever, I like his stuff. I have to piss out a little of the beer I was drinking earlier so I'll be right back.
Ever have one of those nights where you could easily drink yourself to death. This kid in my town just draknk himself to death. They seid when they autopsied him that he had a B.A.L. of 4.4!!!! can you even imagine drinking that much. I mean, I've been pretty drunk in my life, but 4.4!?!?!? I can see his liver just rotting within minutes. Are you still there. Probably not. So the only audience is me and Big Brother right now. I think death is amazing. I used to have no fear of death, but I think a man without fear of death has no respect for life. Death is the only absolute. It is the only thing we have against which we can measure life, and you can quote me on that. Death has always intrigued me, byut I never had the balls to kill myself. I guess that's a good thing, cause I've learned to appreciate my life. "youth is wasted on the young." My entire teenage life was a waste, but what do you care? Hell, what do I care. so how bout them yankees or something. did they win the ncaa? uh yeah, sports rule! I hate vbeing this drunk because basically everything I say (or type) comes out wrong.
From Molson, to some strange wine, and now on to the scotch. Lord, when will this night ever end. When will this night never end. Scothc is some fine stuff. There's littel patterns on the wall of flowers, but they're all too far from each other. Don't the flowers get lonely? I would. That's the most depressing thing I've seen all night. I should be in a fucking padded cell, with no windows.
I better go now, I'm starting to gett pretty tired and I'm sure you're bored of my ramblings by now. It's dangerous for me to be awake now. Oh shit! my favorite song is coming on my cd player!!!!!!!
By adam lowe
as i felt the cold from the open floor
and the silloutes of the trees next door
i piered out into the deep forest to see
dead figure wrapped in the night sky
forcing images into the head of the many
then taking the images with a rush of a blade
dancing in darkness against the night air
insect with eyes had to close then from sights
or maybe they would be taken to hell next
Sleepy Hollow
All who dwell here dwell alone
Among the darkened spaces-
Awaiting the unknown
Transformed by the shadows,
Arms open wide
Among the trees searching,
For a soul in which to hide
Still the wind keeps howling
Sending golden leaves a flight
Causing shadows thick and heavy
To dance into the night
And as the night grows deeper,
Into an even somber tone
You hear a distant calling
And know, these woods are not alone.
By Karen
Come hear the tale of Icabod Crane.
He worked in an asylum for the mentally insane.
One day he was invited to a feast.
There was going to be people there eating roast beast.
Icabod went through the black forest on his own.
He did not know the legend of Sleepy Hollow although it was well known.
Icabod went to the feast and he had some fun.
He started to tell stories to all of the young.
Soon midnight came and he had to go.
One of the ladies there asked if he know the legend and Icabod said no.
She told him of the horseman who lost his head.
Icabod didn't believe her and went off instead.
Icabod didn't get to far in the woods
when the horseman came for him to steal Icabod's goods.
"Give me your food, jewels, and head.
I want them all for the aliens" , the horseman said.
Icabod responded, "Aliens huh. That is obsured.
I cannot believe they exist. I cannot believe you word."
The horseman got mad and said, "Oh you don't believe what I say?
Those unheard of creatures are in your head to stay.
I distracted you so they can get in.
You're now in their control" , the horseman said with a grin.
Icabod looked puzzled but soon he knew.
The horseman's words were very true.
The aliens probed Icabod's mind
to see how much information they could find.
The horseman started to ride away.
Icabod yelled, "Don't go!!! Please stay.
You have no head to see where you go.
If you go to the town how will you know?"
The horseman laughed and then looked at Icabod and said,
"You are a fool to believe the people. I do have a head."
Then the horseman opened his coat
and his head popped out and Icabod started to gloat.
"Why did you lie about your head?"
The man answered, "So the town's people would believe I was dead.
They banned me from town and I was mad.
I desided to scare them and I was glad.
My idea worked for a while Icabod Crane.
If you tell them what happened they'll think you're insane."
From then on, noone heard from Icabod for years.
The people who knew him cried for him in tears.
"What will we do without him around?
He is gone forever. Never ever to be found."
So that's the story of Icabod Crane.
THe aliens probed his mind and he went insane.
He was never found and all kinds of stories started to follow.
There was a new legend for Sleepy Hollow.
By Paul Timmons
Ichabod Crane becomes a school master
after he moves to the town of Sleepy Hollow
where many strange things would soon follow.
He falls in love with a beautiful girl
who's name was Katrina Van Tassel,
who actually was more than just a hassle.
She tells Icabod Crane
that many decapitated bodies have been found
around the woods where there is no sound.
It is the act of a knight come back from the dead,
looking for the perfect replacement head.
He rides like the wind of night
giving travelers terrifing fright.
His ghost rides on a midnight black horse,
searching for the right head of course.
Ichabod thinks it is all superstition,
and will use science to solve this investigation.
But if Ichabod Crane is not careful,
he could lose his heart and even his head
and of course, that would be quite dreadful!
A grave splits open
A blade runs red
The horseman rides
in search of a head
Only one thing can stop him,
one man his bane
And he goes by the name
of Ichabod Crane
He came from the city,
with science in hand,
trying to bring peace
to this haunted land...
But is it enough?
Will he live 'til tommorow?
Or just lie headless
in Sleepy Hollow!
When the clouds role in
and darkness covers the land
a creature will come out of the shadows
with a mighty axe in his hand
A head is what it wants
because it lost its own in a war
the schoolmaster almost learned his lesson
when he opened his door
It will keep chasing him
till it gets what it wants
poor Ichabod can't get away
for the creature still taunts
And thats how it goes
as the story is read
watch out Mr. Crane
and hold on to your head!.
By Linda Bantz
It happened on that moomlit night. The gobblins were out in all their fright. I could feel the ghostly breeze of the headless man hiding in the trees. My horse trotted as fast as he could go, but the leaves were falling like driven snow. I could barely see the road ahead and when I did I felt the dread. Then he came from up behind. I could feel his cold breath on my spine. I could see the bridge just up ahead and knew in my heart I was dead, for no man nor beast would cross this night in all the terror and the fright.
There was a place in my mind where the sun shined
but now the rain's so thick, that I'm blind
There was a place in my soul where the sky was blue
What kind of blue? Blew out kind.
So today just like any other day
The bright sun was out of view
Yeah, today just like any other day
Was a dirty Black Summer too.
I took a walk down on the beach
And you can hide on the other side
You see the good lord made her deep
But he chose not to make her wide
So today just like any other day
The bright sun was out of view
Yeah, today just like any other day
Was a dirty Black Summer too
And there ain't nothin' I can do.
And there ain't nothin' I can do.
By Jason Herr
Let go of the thoughts,
your side hurts and the air rots.
A simple explanation is at hand,
then why do I run to be swallowed by the land.
The body needs a head as far as I understand.
Am I going insane? No I can't be, I'm am the
great Icabod Crane.
By Danny Moser
The carriage stalls and I awake
from slumber.
In the darkness I know where I am.
I open the door and I am greeted by a ghost.
A ghost that feels like the fog
and smells like the rain
putting out burning leaves.
The ghost's whisper is the wind
in the branches.
"Welcome." He says.
I look about me.
Carriage gone,
cases in my hands,
a feeling, unsettled, lingers in my mind.
"Welcome."
Down that dark and lonely path,
admist the ghastly fog,
shadows dance slowly,
as if to some pagan sound.
And down that dark, lonely path
there waits...
an evil.
In that forest of nightmares,
amongst the horrors only dreams can create,
evil whispers your name.
There is no running.
There is no hiding.
And beware,
don't turn your back-
cause where you think he isn't,
there is where he'll be.
Caught in the gnarled hands of wood,
the chain that holds you there,
is your own fear.
Nearer and nearer this evil comes,
closing in around you as you try to run.
But in your futile attempts,
you know it's too late.
Hoping to catch a look at Darkness.
There is no face to give evil,
and no one to hear you scream,
for evil has no ears.
And the scream heard by no one...
is the deadliest...
And soon all is quiet,
till the next one braves,
that dark and lonely path...
Nightfall..Midnight..A dusty trail.
Trees that look like fingers reach up to the sky..Whispering winds,
filling your senses..Distant hoofbeats make themselves known in the
By Joe
here's a story about a man named Ichabod
who left his land, I guess his pod
he wanted the heart of Katrina Van Tassel
whom lived in a vassel
in this town people had to pay a tax
if not they would receive the axe
what's that you say?
People would be decapitated, even Jay
you should not venture in the sticks
death is coming,see the clock, hear the tics
out of the fog is that one of the dead
no its a man and he has no head
better run better hide
run to the shore run to the tide
here comes the axe and better not make a mess
o well its to late, now your Less
Less in how? less as in dead
yes my friend, you have no head
When your sleep is hollowed out with fear
You’ll know he’s near.
Smiling and cackling through the air
By only spirits one can dare.
Just turn around-peek and see-
A headless man behind the tree.
A tree that’ s twisted souls and lives.
A tree that disappears before your eyes.
Where branches torch and pierce the sky,
like arms reaching heights so high.
He’ll chase you in the deep moonlight;
chopping your head, killing your light.
So when you see the forest part
And the grayish dust begins to start
Keep this advice close to heart.
When the headless man sets his plan that day,
You must try to Keep Away.
For nine heads slain are better than ten.
By Barry S.
Lustful vengeance wreaks tonight
In this, our happy hamlet
Bearing down on his great sword
the Headless Horsemen doth take flight
Galloping from end to end, dusk to dawn
claiming what is not his, but ours
As we anxiously retreat behind closed doors
Apparitions, thunderous hooves, echoe as you will
But saviors have we of our own
whom plan on shortening your stride
Gnarly woods and cemetary glow under a Harvest Moon
But warning to you O' Threatening Bodice
glow, too, does our return
Striking down, that is our sojourn
and ending this great plague upon our town
Truth be known the purpose of your devil's work
be revealed and our hero doth be crowned