Poetry

M. F Nagel – Two Poems

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We never bury our dead in winter

We never
Bury our dead
In winter
Winter cheats its dead
The old men
Spit and curse
And bend
Their shovels
Against
The tight-fisted earth.

We never bury our dead in winter

No worst or better
They sleep
On heaps of cold ash
In an ice-block sarcophagus
The dead
Do penance and repent
They weep they dream
Of redemption
And
Resurrection day.

(The angels say)

Sometime late may

 

I Am the Words of Virginia Woolf

I am the words of
Virginia Woolf

The words that fell like soft back pebbles
Into pebbled brooks
Into the pockets of rivers
Ever
Etching, etching
Out to sea.

I am the hours
In the days of dead moths
And the flower
That grew from the trash heap
In the winter months.

I am the words of Virginia Woolf.


M. F Nagel was born in anchorage Alaska, her Athabaskan and Eyak heritage gave her  love of poetry. She now lives and writes near the banks of the Matanuska river in the Palmer Butte, Alaska, where the moose, wild dog~ roses and salmonberries provide unending joy and inspiration.


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1 Comment

  1. Tom

    September 1, 2016 at 5:59 pm

    These poems are beautiful, my favorite is the one about winter. So dark yet so earnest.

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