Blog Archives

City of Strangers

Old age is an island surrounded by death . . . 

Foreign to myself

In this foreign land

I fear my own reflection 

I run toward the light 

Only to find darkness

For I sought solace

In empty arms

That reach to touch

No one
©Kay Salady



Another day has started
They all seem like the rest
I can’t recall the things I’ve done
It’s such an awful test
To see if I remember
The things that I should do
A swallowed pill the dog a bill
I think I may have flu
I always feel so tired
As soon as I awake
The doctor phoned
To let me know
Another thing’s at stake
With this worn-out body
That can’t seem to withstand
All that it’s been given
Too many a demand
©Kay Salady

Red – 100-word story

I feel that I’ll explode from the heat that burns within this inextinguishable crucible. There are no cookies, no lemon, nor cubes of sugar to complement this pot of tea that simmers to a maddening boil upon a flame of insanity. Here I sit; steam pours from outer layers that peel away my youth day after day until I’ve no idea if I’d rather cry, laugh, or become indifferent. Touch me, and you’ll burn. Avoid me, and I’ll weep. Still, I’m nothing but a whistling nuisance that no one wants to hear. Is my face red? I’m so damned hot.

©Kay Salady

Image Credit: