Is this the only word that shows up? It’s not that great of a word. Really, I’d prefer an adjective.
c
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a junkyard in real life. Do they exist, even? The only ones I’ve seen are those on TV shows, ones in which kids have to go into them to find something (a ball? a frisbee? something inadvertently thrown away?) and inevitably fight off the stereotypical junkyard dogs.
Filthy and smelly, the stereotypes for junkyards are probably as accurate as they come. I have never been to a junkyard but I have seen many on television and needless to say they make for an interesting visit. My yearn to visit one has only grown stronger since in a way it is somewhat a treasure chest. It’s almost been born into me that a junkyard is a fun treasure hunt. Since it appeared in an episode of the Simpsons and even that old familiar show “Ahhh…real monsters”, where the monsters mode of entry was at a junk yard, it seems like an endless array of AMAZING mysteries and great adventures.
Sharlene Sanchez
You threw my heart in the junkyard and watched as it was crushed. Did I deserve it? Sometimes I think I did with the look on your face clear in my head. Love is a cruel thing and I drove the cruelty to it’s limits. But in the end, was vengeance really necessary? Because instead of a small pain, you created devastation.
The man in the shadows. He was carrying something. “What was it?” I wondered. I followed him to the very junkyard I would dumb my trash. With one heavy toss, he threw away his waste and left. Just before I was going to leave myself, I heard some rustling from the bag. . . But I just let it pass. It’s not like it came from the trash bag.
The man in the shadows. He was carrying something. “What was it?” I wondered. I followed him to the very junkyard I would dumb my trash. With one heavy toss, he threw away his waste and left. Just before I was going to leave myself, I heard some rustling from the bag. . . But I just let it pass. It’s not like anything was alive in there. . .
“What are we going to find that’s useful to us?” Julian asked. Marisol screamed and jumped back from a pile of junk. “Just…look around…for anything. I don’t know,” I answered them. I started looking through a small pile with disgust written on my face.
Out of rusted metal and dripping oil the predator crawled. It’s lean body ripped along gogs and gears which pierced it’s skin leaving orange, toxic, hardcore waste seeping into mouldy earth.
Willow Goodman
What is a junkyard? Somewhere where things which are no longer wanted go. Sad things. Things which are broken and disused. But also the playground of rats, cats and children.
daisycutter
Those words dug out memories from the junkyard of my mind. What I did, what I should have done, what I shouldn’t have done. It was pride that made me say the things that I didn’t mean to say, and it was vanity that trapped me for three years. The broken pieces of the past still fit together like an old jigsaw puzzle, covered with dust. You blew away the dust today and revealed what I had let go of. Sweet sorrow.
A barren place where things go to die. Where dogs are big and dreams go to die. The carrion to be picked by the desperate, the forlorn, the lost. The smell of old rubber and used up gasoline.
junkayard is a funny word when i think of it. i make fun of my brothers backyard becase it looks llke a junkyard. he has many cars just parked out there in his land. he has cars that you would think he would get rid of because they are not runni
nubia
a place where people throw away things they dont need. Things like can openers and orange peels and used condoms. They dont need these things anymore because they have been used up and have no more purpose. I think the meaning to garbage is things and objects that serve no more purpose even though they once did.
saranda
it was time to take a trip down to the junkyard and pray that hidden there among the discarded mementos of others was the treasure we seek.
The junkyard was miles down the road, and there were always a flock of seagulls soaring overhead, even though the seashore was four hrs away.
Mary Lou Wynegar
Derelict and tragic, haphazard pilings of iron and rust and flaking paint form buildings and roads in their own sad city of bygones. Is there hope for these forgotten relics? For restoration and reinvention? Or is the fading all that remains?
Scraps of words, piece of paper and tumbling thought litter the room like a junkyard Nothing short of a serious cleaning would even work with how frazzled her mind was, how betrayed she felt, and how guilty she was. Trying to get that into words, and those words on paper where a battle in and of itself.
Once a pile of wrecked cars were in the junkyard. Big barking dogs were there keeping away criminals. Once they found a body in the trunk of one of those rusty cars. Then the place was loaded with police and crying mothers looking for lost children. It turned out it was a halloween scarecrow that they found. It was really a scandal.
Karen Barak
I wonder how I just so happened to come across that mangy mutt I now call Dogmeat.
I was in that junkyard I was cruising though, looking for spare parts to sell so I could get some stimpacks…
Lone Wanderer
Back in the junkyard, me and my friends used to look around for all the things that may be useful to us. After all, one man’s trash is another’s treasure.
Elizabeth
junkyard dogs, rusting metal heaps, scrap metal, bumpers rust worn out machines machines past their live by dates scrap heaps heaps of cars hills and alleys and lanes and pathways a maze through piled up cars and old time worn machines
All the things you can find. Broken, maybe, probably not. Things get old, we throw them away. They work, but we don’t care, we like shiny new things. We don’t like rust. We throw away people when they get boring. We don’t like people with rust.
I never once thought about how he felt about me or where we were in our lives. It just came naturally. so naturally. and i loved him back. we were always there for each other and never away. even during the tough times we were still together and enjoying life. I don’t think i could very well live without him. it’s tough when we’re so far apart and he’s sick or something. but then i pick up that sweatshirt and t shirt and take in that sweet smell of him and everything is ok again.
Kaitlyn
Puh, was für ein Wort. Vollkommen unverständlich, Junk ist irgendwas wie Junkfood, etwas zum schnellen Aufessen, ohne viel Nährstoffe, mit jeder Menge Zucker, Geschmacksverstärkern, Salz und viel hohler Luft. Und knusprig muss es sein. So.
addicted to drugs garden with cocaine a junk in a garden who is snooving blooms or something i think. he’s addicted and he likes bloomes. and he is always in the garden.
What does junkyard really mean? Is it just a place where trash goes or a stinking wasteland full of toxic chemicals? To some it might be a wonderland waiting to be discovered or a buffet where you have to find you food like a scavenger hunt. Maybe to you its the biggest castle in the world and you rule over everything, or maybe its just a shack that you call home. Depending on who you are and what you do it might even be a secret hideout for you and your buddies who live a life of crime, or just need somewhere to hang out.
Blossom
It was a cold, dark night and I had to go to the junkyard. Don’t ask me why, it was just one of those feelings that wouldn’t go away. You know the kind: that creepy, yet somewhat satisfying feeling that something great is about to cross your path. Well, let me tell you, it did.
Carol Hasbrouck
I was looking down from on top of my mountain, “get down from there boy, you’re not king of the trash!” I grab an old trash can lid and slide down to the bottom where my father awaits.
Aiyana
The little boy stood in the junkyard alone and confused. He had thought he understood the world around him but after what he just witnessed he wasn’t quite sure. Where those people really his parents? How could they treat him like that? Where was his real home? Questions flew through his head faster than he could answer them.
Junk is an odd kind of thing.
All the thing we leave behind, the waste and the unwanted.
The rubbish, the nonsensical items we have no clue what to do with, all become disregarded and unwanted.
Sent off to this strange junkyard, wasteland, where they’re sense will rot away along with the objects themselves.
Junkyard is a place for gathering junk. Junk is pretty gross since it’s mostly associated with GROSS. Trash cans aren’t too…aromatically pleasing especially the trash can in my dorm at times. It’s actually a little disturbing, but right now it’s pretty great. Good. Shit.
What a place, junkyards. Once upon a time, I was in a junkyard, all I see was junk in a big yard, it was awesome, there were stuff I didn’t think that were junk.
Luis Hernández Couré
I think of the junkyard in Nora springs. It was always a mess. There is also the junkyard that my bad took me to where I almost bought my first car. I don’t know how they keep track of everything that they have in the inventory! It has to be crazy to try and keep up with it.
Kay Schmalen
One day i stepped in this mist of hell. The smell of old compost and broken glass rose up to the air and filled my lungs with pain. Memories were made here but now everything has changed into a junkyard.
Erika
smelly and gross.disgusting and lots of germs and rotting fruits and vegetables and dead things floating around the place and maybe even dead people if you look hard enough! i don’t like junkyards they make me feel unsanitary!
shannon
you may be surprised of finding useful things in the junkyard, because what some body considered junk other people find it useful.
Ali Makamel
Playing at the junkyard, you’d find quite a bit of stuff. At the playground, the toys are always the same, abstract structures colored brightly, sometimes covered in graffiti, but no matter what almost never changing. Nothing’s new. At the junkyard, everything changes everyday. New stuff comes in, the old leaves. Yeah, sure, there’s no jungle gym, but there is everything an imagination could ever want.
Is this the only word that shows up? It’s not that great of a word. Really, I’d prefer an adjective.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a junkyard in real life. Do they exist, even? The only ones I’ve seen are those on TV shows, ones in which kids have to go into them to find something (a ball? a frisbee? something inadvertently thrown away?) and inevitably fight off the stereotypical junkyard dogs.
Filthy and smelly, the stereotypes for junkyards are probably as accurate as they come. I have never been to a junkyard but I have seen many on television and needless to say they make for an interesting visit. My yearn to visit one has only grown stronger since in a way it is somewhat a treasure chest. It’s almost been born into me that a junkyard is a fun treasure hunt. Since it appeared in an episode of the Simpsons and even that old familiar show “Ahhh…real monsters”, where the monsters mode of entry was at a junk yard, it seems like an endless array of AMAZING mysteries and great adventures.
You threw my heart in the junkyard and watched as it was crushed. Did I deserve it? Sometimes I think I did with the look on your face clear in my head. Love is a cruel thing and I drove the cruelty to it’s limits. But in the end, was vengeance really necessary? Because instead of a small pain, you created devastation.
The man in the shadows. He was carrying something. “What was it?” I wondered. I followed him to the very junkyard I would dumb my trash. With one heavy toss, he threw away his waste and left. Just before I was going to leave myself, I heard some rustling from the bag. . . But I just let it pass. It’s not like it came from the trash bag.
The man in the shadows. He was carrying something. “What was it?” I wondered. I followed him to the very junkyard I would dumb my trash. With one heavy toss, he threw away his waste and left. Just before I was going to leave myself, I heard some rustling from the bag. . . But I just let it pass. It’s not like anything was alive in there. . .
“What are we going to find that’s useful to us?” Julian asked. Marisol screamed and jumped back from a pile of junk. “Just…look around…for anything. I don’t know,” I answered them. I started looking through a small pile with disgust written on my face.
Out of rusted metal and dripping oil the predator crawled. It’s lean body ripped along gogs and gears which pierced it’s skin leaving orange, toxic, hardcore waste seeping into mouldy earth.
What is a junkyard? Somewhere where things which are no longer wanted go. Sad things. Things which are broken and disused. But also the playground of rats, cats and children.
Those words dug out memories from the junkyard of my mind. What I did, what I should have done, what I shouldn’t have done. It was pride that made me say the things that I didn’t mean to say, and it was vanity that trapped me for three years. The broken pieces of the past still fit together like an old jigsaw puzzle, covered with dust. You blew away the dust today and revealed what I had let go of. Sweet sorrow.
A barren place where things go to die. Where dogs are big and dreams go to die. The carrion to be picked by the desperate, the forlorn, the lost. The smell of old rubber and used up gasoline.
junkayard is a funny word when i think of it. i make fun of my brothers backyard becase it looks llke a junkyard. he has many cars just parked out there in his land. he has cars that you would think he would get rid of because they are not runni
a place where people throw away things they dont need. Things like can openers and orange peels and used condoms. They dont need these things anymore because they have been used up and have no more purpose. I think the meaning to garbage is things and objects that serve no more purpose even though they once did.
it was time to take a trip down to the junkyard and pray that hidden there among the discarded mementos of others was the treasure we seek.
The junkyard was miles down the road, and there were always a flock of seagulls soaring overhead, even though the seashore was four hrs away.
Derelict and tragic, haphazard pilings of iron and rust and flaking paint form buildings and roads in their own sad city of bygones. Is there hope for these forgotten relics? For restoration and reinvention? Or is the fading all that remains?
Scraps of words, piece of paper and tumbling thought litter the room like a junkyard Nothing short of a serious cleaning would even work with how frazzled her mind was, how betrayed she felt, and how guilty she was. Trying to get that into words, and those words on paper where a battle in and of itself.
Once a pile of wrecked cars were in the junkyard. Big barking dogs were there keeping away criminals. Once they found a body in the trunk of one of those rusty cars. Then the place was loaded with police and crying mothers looking for lost children. It turned out it was a halloween scarecrow that they found. It was really a scandal.
I wonder how I just so happened to come across that mangy mutt I now call Dogmeat.
I was in that junkyard I was cruising though, looking for spare parts to sell so I could get some stimpacks…
Back in the junkyard, me and my friends used to look around for all the things that may be useful to us. After all, one man’s trash is another’s treasure.
junkyard dogs, rusting metal heaps, scrap metal, bumpers rust worn out machines machines past their live by dates scrap heaps heaps of cars hills and alleys and lanes and pathways a maze through piled up cars and old time worn machines
All the things you can find. Broken, maybe, probably not. Things get old, we throw them away. They work, but we don’t care, we like shiny new things. We don’t like rust. We throw away people when they get boring. We don’t like people with rust.
I never once thought about how he felt about me or where we were in our lives. It just came naturally. so naturally. and i loved him back. we were always there for each other and never away. even during the tough times we were still together and enjoying life. I don’t think i could very well live without him. it’s tough when we’re so far apart and he’s sick or something. but then i pick up that sweatshirt and t shirt and take in that sweet smell of him and everything is ok again.
Puh, was für ein Wort. Vollkommen unverständlich, Junk ist irgendwas wie Junkfood, etwas zum schnellen Aufessen, ohne viel Nährstoffe, mit jeder Menge Zucker, Geschmacksverstärkern, Salz und viel hohler Luft. Und knusprig muss es sein. So.
a junk in a garden.
addicted to drugs garden with cocaine a junk in a garden who is snooving blooms or something i think. he’s addicted and he likes bloomes. and he is always in the garden.
one word strange. Very usual
What does junkyard really mean? Is it just a place where trash goes or a stinking wasteland full of toxic chemicals? To some it might be a wonderland waiting to be discovered or a buffet where you have to find you food like a scavenger hunt. Maybe to you its the biggest castle in the world and you rule over everything, or maybe its just a shack that you call home. Depending on who you are and what you do it might even be a secret hideout for you and your buddies who live a life of crime, or just need somewhere to hang out.
It was a cold, dark night and I had to go to the junkyard. Don’t ask me why, it was just one of those feelings that wouldn’t go away. You know the kind: that creepy, yet somewhat satisfying feeling that something great is about to cross your path. Well, let me tell you, it did.
I was looking down from on top of my mountain, “get down from there boy, you’re not king of the trash!” I grab an old trash can lid and slide down to the bottom where my father awaits.
The little boy stood in the junkyard alone and confused. He had thought he understood the world around him but after what he just witnessed he wasn’t quite sure. Where those people really his parents? How could they treat him like that? Where was his real home? Questions flew through his head faster than he could answer them.
Rotted, brown, crumpled, hurt.
Roses that you put away with the trash.
They’re there, under the rusted cans and rats.
They’re still full of his love.
Junk is an odd kind of thing.
All the thing we leave behind, the waste and the unwanted.
The rubbish, the nonsensical items we have no clue what to do with, all become disregarded and unwanted.
Sent off to this strange junkyard, wasteland, where they’re sense will rot away along with the objects themselves.
Junkyard is a place for gathering junk. Junk is pretty gross since it’s mostly associated with GROSS. Trash cans aren’t too…aromatically pleasing especially the trash can in my dorm at times. It’s actually a little disturbing, but right now it’s pretty great. Good. Shit.
What a place, junkyards. Once upon a time, I was in a junkyard, all I see was junk in a big yard, it was awesome, there were stuff I didn’t think that were junk.
I think of the junkyard in Nora springs. It was always a mess. There is also the junkyard that my bad took me to where I almost bought my first car. I don’t know how they keep track of everything that they have in the inventory! It has to be crazy to try and keep up with it.
One day i stepped in this mist of hell. The smell of old compost and broken glass rose up to the air and filled my lungs with pain. Memories were made here but now everything has changed into a junkyard.
smelly and gross.disgusting and lots of germs and rotting fruits and vegetables and dead things floating around the place and maybe even dead people if you look hard enough! i don’t like junkyards they make me feel unsanitary!
you may be surprised of finding useful things in the junkyard, because what some body considered junk other people find it useful.
Playing at the junkyard, you’d find quite a bit of stuff. At the playground, the toys are always the same, abstract structures colored brightly, sometimes covered in graffiti, but no matter what almost never changing. Nothing’s new. At the junkyard, everything changes everyday. New stuff comes in, the old leaves. Yeah, sure, there’s no jungle gym, but there is everything an imagination could ever want.