Hollow as a buzzard's breakfast
It just stands there; shadows me down
dares me to climb in:
Thin steel ribs
Rusty old cap
A kid could get killed in there
Or once, long ago
Wade through gold-seed.
Author notes
Written March 6th, 2006
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This reminds me of a horrific 'farm safety' video I watched at school when I was 10. I can't decide which image was worse... the kid disappearing into the grain in the silo or the one drowning in the slurry pit... then again, the one that fell into the combine harvester wasn't too pretty either... hmmm...
I guess I've always associated farms with death since then, and this poem of yours with its buzzard's breakfast, steel ribs and killed kids fits very nicely...
Oh and congratulations... you have just received my 1000th comment... ~fanfare~ ...for you prize you get one free applause and your picture on my page.
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horus8
Love the line "Rusty old cap." I'm from Iowa, and so I have a particular affection for most things farmy. In particular, barns and silos. I knew this was about a silo before I read the title.
"Buzzard's breakfast." Very creative. -
exquisite
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as always you lead us into another realm of reality...a winner for sure
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ok, apparently Al and i are both losers that we jumped on this poem within the first two seconds of posting-
Your opening here is one of the best in the contest- thin steel ribs and rusty old cap is great imagery-
Kid could get killed in there seems worded rough but i can't come up with a better solution-
Love wade through gold seed-
Just a nice voice - great descriptive piece and an asset to our contest-
m
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this is a real nice piece horus, excellent imagery and very well constructed. A great addition to the contest, good luck.
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