Part XIV and Hazel Connelly

(Almost at the half way point, Part XIV is a piece about death but whose death and who did this and why?)

(Our latest poet is my returning friend, Hazel Connelly who has submitted a poem to each one of the three Ghost Stories and has delivered a lovely tender poem called Ghost Story. Lots more of Hazel's peoms can be read at http://www.poemhunter.com/hazel-connelly/)

XIV

Past midnight

The paper said

The latest body was found

On the bend

Of the coach station

Touching the edge of the canal,  

Eyes ripped out

And left drained on the floor

Like somebody had been

Sucking gobstoppers

And gave up

Halfway through,

Bright white

with their mouth

So wide open

they must have cried

for minutes

and minutes

hoping somebody would come

and rescue them

last minute

before the killer finally

put them out of their misery

gazing into a curtain call of futures. 

***

Ghost Story

At the crossroad I stand

In the stillness of the night

The shadows gather round

You hover beside me

I know you are there

You whisper my name

From your ice cold lips

I caught a glimpse of you

Of your slender form

In the pale moonlight

I saw your raven black hair

Your ruby red lips

I know we will never say goodbye

You will stay with me forever

My child of the moon

Someday we will be as one..

© Hazel