Thursday, 14 April 2016

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


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

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