tanka poems by Kayla

not affected

by the tragedy of war,

nor by fear,nor by evil,

the honey bee collects her honey

and the mockingbird sings her song.



not the rumble of thunder,

nor the sound of gunfire,

nor the sound of a storm,

but the sound of fireworks

fills this July night sky.



she's 3000 years old,

and i am fascinated

by her eyelashes,

how beautiful,

how delicate.



suddenly.

the flame up of a match,

my youth

has come

and gone.



1

train crossing.

signals flashing,

wheels clanging on rails,

boxcars swaying side to side,

followed by the end car,


2

its red strobe light flashing,

disappears into the darkness,

the spirit

of my father

rides into the night.