It’s just a storage bin, he said, you can climb up really high and when it is full you can swim in the grain.
Really?
Really, its just like water.
He still thought that the day he dove in.
When he drowned, we believed him.
the silo is where she spent her childhood. looking out at the bright blue sky…the wind in her golden hair. That is where she spent her childhood, teen years, and every moment of her happiness, she cries up there, dreams up there, hopes up there, and breathes up there.
The Silo. Right on the border of US and Canada. As a kid it was always hilarious to sit there, eating ice cream, and gesture casually across the river. “Hey, there’s Canada!” we’d always say, as if we had just noticed it but it was no big deal. But as kids, foreign countries, even Canada, were always interesting.
We hid quietly in the Silo. There’s grain digging into my skin and his skin as we cower in fear of the helicopters over head. Who would have thought that it would end so violently. I miss technology. I miss my family. At least I still have Leo… Thanks heavens for my baby. I hear it again. If the monsters ever find me we’re dead… Thank heavens for this silo
She swam ashore, exhausted and bone weary. Her lungs ached as she clambered up the rocks and finally threw herself down on solid ground. Panting hard, she rolled over on her back and looked up at the outline of the old abandoned silo in front of her. For a mercy she managed to avoid the bustling harbour and ended up in the almost forgotten old harbour.
You are no one. I’m going to go. Going to pick up the trash on my way out. The car’s leaking oil, so it’s time for us to light a match. I’m going to go. I buckle up the seatbelt. You are no one. The car’s leaking fuel. You are the match.
The silo had been emptied out in an attempt to search for the remains. Once the grain was gone, the csi team combed the area, looking for anything that might lead them to the missing girl. Suddenly, a member of the team shouted for everyone to come look; his light shined on the broken, frail body of 15 year old Constance West.
I saw the silo before I could really understand what I was seeing It was big and red, and it was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Growing up in the city made it difficult to see things like a stray silo with thousands of cows milling about beside it. It was truly odd, to say the least.
I stared at the silo in front of me, trying my best not to laugh. I’d never seen anything in my life that was quite so ugly, and I’d seen a lot of ugly things. The silo was so out of place so close to the city.
It was full of grain. At least it was supposed to be. My father would tell me all about how a silo held all the extra food that humans ate. Why did they harvest to much? It always went to waste. And they were mostly overweight. Us Elves appreciate nature and all the gifts it brings. I loved the forest, loved the fields and even the rain. I loved nature. Humans seem to despise it.
When you live in Iowa, you can tire of seeing silos everywhere you look. But on that particular day, an old silo on the gravel road down the road from my house caught my attention and I couldn’t help but climb it, looking out from the top, gripping with one hand and feeling like I was on top of the world.
Put it away. Keep piling it up until it overflows. Then when it finally does, everyone will be so overwhelmed with the mess that you made, you’ll find yourself alone.
Tall, once-white rice silos stood in front of the world’s smallest mountain range. They had been there so long that they almost seemed to be a natural part of the landscape. Like ancient guardians of the land, they loomed over the surrounding rice fields and orchards, watching, waiting for the harvest when their empty, echoing chambers would finally be filled.
By the time I got to the silo, I noticed that all the feed for the cows was completely gone. This was strange to me because I had taken care of the grain and corn this morning, taking excellent care to feed the cattle perfect amounts so we had enough the next day without having to refill.
“Uncle Marty,” I asked when I walked back to the barn, “where’s all the feed?”
“Your aunt took it,” he grumbled.
“What?!”
“Said it should be part of the divorce deal,” he added with an ugly sneer.
There, it stands. High among the wheat and fields. Overlooking the hogs and cows, the corn stalks, and the barn. Visited infrequently, but constantly there, as a safe, reassuring necessity for the family to which call it part of their home.
what is a silo? I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s a kind of fruit, but I’m not sure. Let’s have fun with this word. Let’s eat some silos! I want to eat a whole bschule of silos. I am a tree hugger with a giant dog. Look at the green books in the satchel.
Thought of the Great Independent guided my actions through the ether. I could only motion my mind into formation, all intentions were not my own, but originated from a silo of energy that has been under threat of annihilation digital corruption since it’s creation.
Abandoned, the old silo creaked in the wind. I waded through tall grassed to reach it, my camera slung behind my back. Climbing old blocks of concrete I poked my head through the hole. The cylinder spiraled upwards, upwards, exploding at the top letting the sunlight burst through.
We sat atop the silo, gazing across the open fields around us. It was long since abandoned, and left us a wonderful view as the rain fell around us. We sat in silence with nothing but the pattering drops landing on the cool metal. There was nothing left to say. Instead we just watched the world pass us by.
makes me think of a farm, also the name of someone evil, because of Silas in Da Vinci Code, but silo would be his nice twin brother, also about This american life and how hard it is to describe or just get anyone in my family to listen to it, I don’t want to know about the news, I can’t do anything about the news, I don’t think.
“Meet me by the silo tonight,” he whispered in my ear before he said goodbye. I grinned, stealing a quick kiss, then closed the door. It had been a lovely birthday afternoon, and I was excited to watch the stars with my lover and best friend tonight.
I don’t know what silo is, what silo means, who is silo? What is silo? What if you woke up one day to an exam you had none of the answers for? Sounds a lot like life. Sounds a lot like love. Silo. Silo. Silosilosilo. Silence. Is silence golden or the loudest thing of all?
she wanted to be a farmer when she grew up, she didn’t want cows or chickens or anything. she didn’t want a a mile of corn field, she just wanted to have a cute little farmhouse and a cat she’d give a saucer of warm milk and she imagined faires would build little houses in her flower beds
The first one was my sister’s. It was clean, tidy. The one in the middle was mine. I think I’ve always liked to feel protected. The final one was my brother’s, all messy. The silos were our houses during the holidays. We would spend our entire days making as if we were adults with their own homes, their own responsibilities, their own worlds. Worlds apart… and near at the same time. Very close, but not too much to get emotionally attached.
The farm stood apart from anything. There were no other homes or buildings. The wide open space meant that the silo was visible from miles around, a symbol of all that had been lost.
He sits alone in the silo. Waiting for the call he hopes will never come. Looking at the key he hopes he’ll never have to turn. Knowing…. knowing… the devastation that his turning of that key in that silo will come.
Silo is a restaurant in one of my favorite parts of town. It’s also a really scary nightmare where I end up in a grain silo drowning in gluten. What a nightmare that would be. Silos make me think of Texas and Oklahoma in the middle of BFE and all the beautiful farms. I don’t think I am doing very well with this word, but oh well!
While her family marveled at her assumed loving altruistic motives,Robyn flipped the switches in Andy’s nearly empty silo of a brain,”I hope you rot in hell you evil bastard,”she whispered softly into his ear.
She hid behind the old Mennonite silo on the edge of the forest. The white beacon of
plenty meant folks lived nearby,…..she missed folks but feared their intrusion in her secret
world.
Down fall the beads of nutritious hail, siphoned through you, and the process is so tedious and full, yet unbeknownst to those who depend upon the value of your labor.
Sometimes I imagine myself falling
Down a tight vertical tunnel
With only gravity and myself
Sometimes I remember to scream
I am afraid, sometimes, that gravity never ends
Everything is [sometimes] for me
silo cement tommy gun scattering rain. lead belly, scrambling through the shrubs, pillbox rattle, jump for cover. missile clanking men in work hats. nuclear gangrenous, grass smeared on cement steps. clank.
Wheat deep in the silo can not sway to the wind. People who hide deep into their shells cannot be swayed by others. It is important to know when to put wheat in the silo and when to take it out – it is very important that one takes it out once in a while.
The silo stood silent next to the barn. It was echoing the silence of the household, since that terrible tragedy of the day before, when the children had been in the silo, laughing and talking and working. Then suddenly there was nothing. And that was when the nightmare had begun.
Miles drag past as the landscape remains the same. My hands are weary from clenching the wheel, but I can’t afford to let go.
It’s just a storage bin, he said, you can climb up really high and when it is full you can swim in the grain.
Really?
Really, its just like water.
He still thought that the day he dove in.
When he drowned, we believed him.
the silo is where she spent her childhood. looking out at the bright blue sky…the wind in her golden hair. That is where she spent her childhood, teen years, and every moment of her happiness, she cries up there, dreams up there, hopes up there, and breathes up there.
The Silo. Right on the border of US and Canada. As a kid it was always hilarious to sit there, eating ice cream, and gesture casually across the river. “Hey, there’s Canada!” we’d always say, as if we had just noticed it but it was no big deal. But as kids, foreign countries, even Canada, were always interesting.
We hid quietly in the Silo. There’s grain digging into my skin and his skin as we cower in fear of the helicopters over head. Who would have thought that it would end so violently. I miss technology. I miss my family. At least I still have Leo… Thanks heavens for my baby. I hear it again. If the monsters ever find me we’re dead… Thank heavens for this silo
She swam ashore, exhausted and bone weary. Her lungs ached as she clambered up the rocks and finally threw herself down on solid ground. Panting hard, she rolled over on her back and looked up at the outline of the old abandoned silo in front of her. For a mercy she managed to avoid the bustling harbour and ended up in the almost forgotten old harbour.
heightened cylindrical storage units
mass of feed and heat
chicken feet
cow lips
piggy back
You are no one. I’m going to go. Going to pick up the trash on my way out. The car’s leaking oil, so it’s time for us to light a match. I’m going to go. I buckle up the seatbelt. You are no one. The car’s leaking fuel. You are the match.
The silo had been emptied out in an attempt to search for the remains. Once the grain was gone, the csi team combed the area, looking for anything that might lead them to the missing girl. Suddenly, a member of the team shouted for everyone to come look; his light shined on the broken, frail body of 15 year old Constance West.
I saw the silo before I could really understand what I was seeing It was big and red, and it was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Growing up in the city made it difficult to see things like a stray silo with thousands of cows milling about beside it. It was truly odd, to say the least.
I stared at the silo in front of me, trying my best not to laugh. I’d never seen anything in my life that was quite so ugly, and I’d seen a lot of ugly things. The silo was so out of place so close to the city.
It was full of grain. At least it was supposed to be. My father would tell me all about how a silo held all the extra food that humans ate. Why did they harvest to much? It always went to waste. And they were mostly overweight. Us Elves appreciate nature and all the gifts it brings. I loved the forest, loved the fields and even the rain. I loved nature. Humans seem to despise it.
When you live in Iowa, you can tire of seeing silos everywhere you look. But on that particular day, an old silo on the gravel road down the road from my house caught my attention and I couldn’t help but climb it, looking out from the top, gripping with one hand and feeling like I was on top of the world.
Put it away. Keep piling it up until it overflows. Then when it finally does, everyone will be so overwhelmed with the mess that you made, you’ll find yourself alone.
Tall, once-white rice silos stood in front of the world’s smallest mountain range. They had been there so long that they almost seemed to be a natural part of the landscape. Like ancient guardians of the land, they loomed over the surrounding rice fields and orchards, watching, waiting for the harvest when their empty, echoing chambers would finally be filled.
By the time I got to the silo, I noticed that all the feed for the cows was completely gone. This was strange to me because I had taken care of the grain and corn this morning, taking excellent care to feed the cattle perfect amounts so we had enough the next day without having to refill.
“Uncle Marty,” I asked when I walked back to the barn, “where’s all the feed?”
“Your aunt took it,” he grumbled.
“What?!”
“Said it should be part of the divorce deal,” he added with an ugly sneer.
There, it stands. High among the wheat and fields. Overlooking the hogs and cows, the corn stalks, and the barn. Visited infrequently, but constantly there, as a safe, reassuring necessity for the family to which call it part of their home.
what is a silo? I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s a kind of fruit, but I’m not sure. Let’s have fun with this word. Let’s eat some silos! I want to eat a whole bschule of silos. I am a tree hugger with a giant dog. Look at the green books in the satchel.
Hollow domed metal hills,
where bones only remain;
this was a cold cell,
full of disdain.
When you went missing,
I looked for footprints.
I found nothing,
no signs, no hints.
I crept around in darkness,
seeking you out.
Then I unlocked the silo,
and emit a shrill shout.
Thought of the Great Independent guided my actions through the ether. I could only motion my mind into formation, all intentions were not my own, but originated from a silo of energy that has been under threat of annihilation digital corruption since it’s creation.
silo
a word that confuses
what is, silo?
if an l you add before the ‘o’
it makes “sillo”
which rhymes with brillo
which is glitter or sparkle
what is silo?
Abandoned, the old silo creaked in the wind. I waded through tall grassed to reach it, my camera slung behind my back. Climbing old blocks of concrete I poked my head through the hole. The cylinder spiraled upwards, upwards, exploding at the top letting the sunlight burst through.
Silo… I have no idea what that word means, though i think it does exist in spanish. Silo… Now I’m confused and don’t know what to write about it.
that damn silo.
so tall
so beautiful
so old and worn
so strong
so empty.
no wonder it is where
we made love
for the first
and the last
time.
cey
We sat atop the silo, gazing across the open fields around us. It was long since abandoned, and left us a wonderful view as the rain fell around us. We sat in silence with nothing but the pattering drops landing on the cool metal. There was nothing left to say. Instead we just watched the world pass us by.
makes me think of a farm, also the name of someone evil, because of Silas in Da Vinci Code, but silo would be his nice twin brother, also about This american life and how hard it is to describe or just get anyone in my family to listen to it, I don’t want to know about the news, I can’t do anything about the news, I don’t think.
“Meet me by the silo tonight,” he whispered in my ear before he said goodbye. I grinned, stealing a quick kiss, then closed the door. It had been a lovely birthday afternoon, and I was excited to watch the stars with my lover and best friend tonight.
I don’t know what silo is, what silo means, who is silo? What is silo? What if you woke up one day to an exam you had none of the answers for? Sounds a lot like life. Sounds a lot like love. Silo. Silo. Silosilosilo. Silence. Is silence golden or the loudest thing of all?
she wanted to be a farmer when she grew up, she didn’t want cows or chickens or anything. she didn’t want a a mile of corn field, she just wanted to have a cute little farmhouse and a cat she’d give a saucer of warm milk and she imagined faires would build little houses in her flower beds
The first one was my sister’s. It was clean, tidy. The one in the middle was mine. I think I’ve always liked to feel protected. The final one was my brother’s, all messy. The silos were our houses during the holidays. We would spend our entire days making as if we were adults with their own homes, their own responsibilities, their own worlds. Worlds apart… and near at the same time. Very close, but not too much to get emotionally attached.
The farm stood apart from anything. There were no other homes or buildings. The wide open space meant that the silo was visible from miles around, a symbol of all that had been lost.
He sits alone in the silo. Waiting for the call he hopes will never come. Looking at the key he hopes he’ll never have to turn. Knowing…. knowing… the devastation that his turning of that key in that silo will come.
Silo is a restaurant in one of my favorite parts of town. It’s also a really scary nightmare where I end up in a grain silo drowning in gluten. What a nightmare that would be. Silos make me think of Texas and Oklahoma in the middle of BFE and all the beautiful farms. I don’t think I am doing very well with this word, but oh well!
While her family marveled at her assumed loving altruistic motives,Robyn flipped the switches in Andy’s nearly empty silo of a brain,”I hope you rot in hell you evil bastard,”she whispered softly into his ear.
She hid behind the old Mennonite silo on the edge of the forest. The white beacon of
plenty meant folks lived nearby,…..she missed folks but feared their intrusion in her secret
world.
Down fall the beads of nutritious hail, siphoned through you, and the process is so tedious and full, yet unbeknownst to those who depend upon the value of your labor.
Sometimes I imagine myself falling
Down a tight vertical tunnel
With only gravity and myself
Sometimes I remember to scream
I am afraid, sometimes, that gravity never ends
Everything is [sometimes] for me
silo cement tommy gun scattering rain. lead belly, scrambling through the shrubs, pillbox rattle, jump for cover. missile clanking men in work hats. nuclear gangrenous, grass smeared on cement steps. clank.
Wheat deep in the silo can not sway to the wind. People who hide deep into their shells cannot be swayed by others. It is important to know when to put wheat in the silo and when to take it out – it is very important that one takes it out once in a while.
The silo stood silent next to the barn. It was echoing the silence of the household, since that terrible tragedy of the day before, when the children had been in the silo, laughing and talking and working. Then suddenly there was nothing. And that was when the nightmare had begun.