Random Scribbles · writing

Hangin’ With Ichabod


Not far from Tarry Town it was All Hallows’ Eve
The night we dress up and play make believe
A Hessian Soldier was what I would be
My outfit complete with a fiery-eyed steed.

I mounted my mount and set off through the wood
To the Van Tassel estate, where the candies were good
Perhaps, I was moving a tad too quickly
Fair Katrina Van Tassel, I was aching to see.

From the trees stepped a man with his sleeves cut too short
I knew we’d collide if I didn’t abort
I turned in ‘mongst the boughs, a dangerous tack
But once so committed there was no turning back.

The trees and their limbs were pummeling me
My steed was in panic and I couldn’t see
And then without warning a large branch took my head
The lanky, loose jointed man thought I was dead.

He screamed like a schoolgirl and ran off to the east
I searched for my head and I called for my beast
The stallion returned in an hour or so, but
My head remained missing and I had to go.

I rode deep in the forest and felt for the space
Where had once been my nose, where had once been my face
Each night now I mount up to search for my head
I’m beginning to think I might really be dead.

Well that was different and a lot of fun.

Random Scribbles · writing

One-Line Challenge: Communal Poem

The talented, Jennifer Knoblock has graciously invited me to play along in a one-line Community Poem Challenge. I’ve done my best and contributed my line. The baton is now passed to Joe2Poetry where you are always guaranteed quality craftsmanship and first class entertainment! Sorry about the lack of notice, sir – are you up for this?

There are rules:

  1. Thank the blogger who nominated you and link back.
  2.  Link back to Waffles.
  3. Write one line in the poem. (If 4 lines have been reached before you then start a new stanza.)
  4. If you are the 16th line no need to nominate just send it back to Waffles with a title for the next one.

Autumnal hues herald dawn’s amber glow.
Nature paints in colorful flow.
Everything’s pumpkin from pop tarts to chips.
There’s even a seasonal orange pumpkin dip.
Now a crestfallen suns rich corpse spawns a great feast.
The aroma from scented candles tantalize the palette.
Eerie glows emanate from window sills,
And robin’s song defies the winter beast.
Before we damp down, light one more wind-whirled blaze
Toss it high, in the sky a sanguine moon to make