Biography of Hazel Connelly
I started writing poems around 2005 but only did a handful. When I retired I wrote a few more and will carry on writing poems, I have also wrote a couple of short stories. I have a web site if you would care to look. You can leave comments on my site, your email is private and is deleted after leaving your comment.
I have read my poems in Melborne Australia and in Cork Ireland and numerous places in the UK.
Hazel Connelly Poems
Before my eyes brilliant colour, perfection Dancing gracefully in every direction, The world of trees, the art of nature Are simple reasons for a painter.
The hen night is a girls night out Time for them all to bond and shout They say all they have to say Prior to the wedding day.
Two Hearts Beating As One
Magical moments of pure sweet passion Flutters within my hearts devotion Two hearts beating they know it's just right The beat grows stronger then fades in the night.
Sexy At Sixty
I was fit and feisty at fifty It was no big deal Because that's how half a century Is supposed to feel.
I was a of a hippy for a while With chants of make love not war A flower child wanting to be free And didn't like the law.
The attic holds such fascination I climb the ladder in trepidation, The attic is a time machine Most things hidden and unseen,
Won't get me up there, can't get me to try, Looking down a ravine, from a mile up in the sky, What's heady for some, is nothing for another A bit of bungee jumping, said my big brother.
The moon was lost behind a cloud When something weird went by I tried to see what it was But it flew so fast and high.
My jeans zip is popping My body’s gone all crazy Everyone is noticing My memories a bit hazy.
Can you see my keys? I can't remember where they are I really need to find them Or I can't get in the car,
Humanity's ego, to resort to violence To settle conflicts, makes no sense, And yet we still have not learned The art of peace for which we yearned.
Granddad were a grand chap He wore a trilby And a gabardine mac.
I got a popeye muscle Although I'm not a sailor man And I don't eat much spinach At least not out of a can.
When I Let Go
A guiding light to illuminate the way I'll follow the light to seal my fate The spirit of me to reawaken.
Walking on a cold frosty morn
Gloves and scarf on me adorn.
Walking in the crisp fresh snow
Making my nose all aglow.
Walking up in the hills
Waterproofs on, to keep out the chills.