This introduction is from “Chapter 5: Metaphor and Simile” in

The Sweet ‘n’ Salty Guide to Becoming a Poet, The Second Edition

 

Dire warning: this paragraph begins with an ‘incy-wincy’ whinge. Justified, sure, but with a distinct whiff of ‘more than moderately miffed.’ 

 

As a teacher of creative writing, I find that most students have been previously taught a dysfunctional definition of metaphors and similes. This has been done in a noble effort to make things easier, however the woefully predictable result is confusion. “My cat is like a lion,” is not a simile. “My cat is a tiger,” is not a metaphor. “My table is a yoghurt,” is not a metaphor either. Why not? We’ll get to that soon. And, why be so pedantic? Why does it matter? Well, the definitions we teach are the tools of the art. 

 

Input impacts output. 

 

Quality in, quality out. 

 

Garbage in, garbage out. 

 

Bodged definition, bodged result. 

 

Simple. The whole point of the metaphor/simile technique is to generate a conceptual point much like unfolding verbal origami. And yes, young kids can learn this via examples. “Okay, Teach,” you say, “but why be so miffed?”

 

Unteaching it is harder than teaching it right in the first place. It’s similar to habits, once formed they’re sticky. To be fair to the over-worked and under-paid school teachers, classes are large and resources are scant. Plus, perhaps the teachers were taught it badly too and the ‘wheel of bodge’ keeps on turning. “It’s just silly creative writing, right? Who cares? What does it matter?” 

 

Yeah. It’s only a hobby with the potential to stop about 95% of people losing their innate creative genius. That’s all. No big deal. Yeah… there’s the rant, the vent, the unmitigated festering irk. Hmm, where were we? That’s right, metaphor and simile… I hereby plant my flag on the wind tufted hill of functional definitions!

 

Metaphor:

 

This is when we say that two dissimilar things are equal to make a conceptual point.

 

Simile:

 

This is when we say that two dissimilar things are similar to make a conceptual point.

 

Using funny examples is the best way to help young students understand these definitions. The funnier they are the better. Also, the conceptual point often arises from the use of symbolism. Being willing to have a giggle while attempting to write them is essential. Oftentimes students accidentally make up awesome metaphors/similes while trying to say the most ridiculous things. 

 

Alright, let’s get silly!
 

Is it a Metaphor or a Simile?

 

1. My pencil is a goat named Derek.

 

Is it a metaphor?

 

Two dissimilar things? Check!

Are they equated? Check!

Is there a conceptual point? Nope. This is garbage. Yet, it fits most school definitions of a metaphor. 

 

2. My tea cup is like a coffee mug.

 

Is it a simile?

 

Two dissimilar things? Nope.

Did I use ‘like’ or ‘as’? Yes.

Is there a conceptual point? No. No. Nooooo. This is NEON GARBAGE having a bad hair day, but again, fits many school definitions of a simile.

 

3. Is “My pen is a highway” a metaphor?

 

Two dissimilar things? Yes.

Did I say they are equal? Yes.

Is there a conceptual point? Yes. The pen represents knowledge and creativity. The highway represents ‘onward journey in life.’ Thus it has a conceptual point that my writing helps people to find their own destination. It is a metaphor.
 

4. Is “Anger is akin to a wildfire,” a simile?

 

Two dissimilar things? Yes. 

Are they said to be similar? Yes. Using the word ‘akin’ makes them similar.

Did I use ‘like’ or ‘as’? No.

Is there a conceptual point? Yes. The wildfire destroys in a dangerous and unpredictable way, and anger in a person’s life can be as destructive. Thus, this is a simile. 

 

Okay, let’s see them sprinkled into creative prose!
 

This next part is not from the book, but is instead a resource I use with my creative writing students. The guide book to becoming a poet can be found in our bookstore.

 

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Examples that Build from Simple, to Advanced to Extended Paragraphs.

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1. Simple Metaphors and Similes

 

Purpose: To create imagery that brings a mood or ambience. 

 

Metaphor:

 

The light that pulses through the trees is a heartbeat.

 

Simile: 

 

The light that pulses through the trees is like a heartbeat.

 

Metaphor:

 

The sound of my mother’s voice is a warm mug of cocoa.

 

Simile: : 

 

The sound of my mother’s voice is like a warm mug of cocoa.

 

Metaphor:

 

The smell of the drains reached up my nose and rattled my brain.

 

Simile: : 

 

It was as if the smell of the drains had reached up my nose and rattled my brain.

 

Metaphor:

 

The texture of my teddy bear is every bedtime story and kiss.

 

Simile: : 

 

It was as if the texture of my teddy bear was every bedtime story and kiss.

 

Advanced Metaphors and Similes

 

Metaphor:

 

The nascent rays, pulsing through freshly clothed trees, are my heartbeat drum.

 

Simile: 

 

It was as if the rays of that dawn, pulsing through freshly clothed trees, were my heartbeat drum.

 

Metaphor and simile combinations:

 

My mother’s voice, as the sweetest of never-fade echoes,  is a hearth-side cup of cocoa.

My mother’s voice is the sweetest of never-fade echoes,  ever akin to a hearth-side cup of cocoa.

 

Metaphor: (Extended)

 

The smell of the drains was a Gollum hand, reaching up my nose to rattle my brain. Though I could neither see nor smell its fingers, the squeezing had left painfully deep impressions. 

 

Simile: : (Extended)

 

It was as if the smell of the drains were a Gollum, reaching up my nose and rattling my brain. It was as if its fingertips had made craters in my grey-matter, bruising it for no other reason than a cold and petty thrill. 

 

Advanced Metaphors and Similes, Drafted and Developed
 

1. The nascent rays, pulsing through freshly clothed trees, are my heartbeat drum. How these ever-morphing puzzle pieces, playing so lightly, are a playful kind of warmth. Though they begin at my skin, in one breath they arrive in my marrow. And so, amid the bluebells and earthy aromas, amid the chattering of birds, the new day is well underway. 

2. It was as if the rays of that dawn, pulsing through freshly clothed trees, were my heartbeat drum. With every dance of my limbs the tune became ever freer, its notes ever lighter. Head up toward the sky, watching more sun-born spotlights than anyone could count, my wakeful life was better than my dreams. For so long I’d been in the dark, no more, no more. From here on in it’s sunlight and dancing every day.
 

3. My mother’s voice, as the sweetest of never-fade echoes, is a hearth-side cup of cocoa. It comes in both the sunny weather and when winter blows most cold. No matter what happens in this life, she loved me. She would have gone to war to save me, if that’s what it took. Yet, as is so often with mothers, her love was there in the everyday mundane chores that are necessary to make a house a home. When we call mothers “unsung heroes,” do we ever realize what a monumental understatement it is?
 

4. The smell of the drains was a Gollum hand, reaching up my nose to rattle my brain. It was as if its fingertips had made craters in my grey-matter, bruising it for no other reason than a cold and petty thrill. How could it? Foul though it was, it’s just a stink. Somewhere, behind the closed and double-locked doors of my memories, a darkness stirred. PTSD erased my memories, but whatever happened, it stank this same way.