Advanced Essay Writing, Spring 2013

Simile 

As empty as a graduate student’s bank account (how’s that for originality?)

As weak as a new born calf

Gathered together like Starlings

as rough as sandpaper

Trembling like a washer

praying like hoarding

bouncing like Mitt Romney’s policy?

smiling like squinting

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Metaphor

Heart of a mammoth

Mountains of crap

War is a mill

The Ocean is the bed

The moon is lamenting

The house is a lagoon

My love is a lock

Writing is the Universe

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Composition

I walk the vast stretch of the land: pavements as rough as sandpaper, air too thin to feel, and the scope far too blurry to bring into focus. Everything seems elusive; my breath blends with the silence of what surrounds me. Every new and different shape has to fight my pessimism to come into reality. Reality–huh! I whisper to myself, with every snaps of scarce optimism that glimpses by, “the moon is lamenting on the other side.” That moon is the shelter waiting to be felt is the only solace that my endless steps, exploring void horizons, couldn’t salvage. If you see me, don’t be fooled, I am only squinting like smiling; the arch of my brows have nothing in common to the line of my lips. If you hear me, don’t be startled, because that’s my passive pulse. The heart of the mammoth has still the magnanimity, but between stillness and eternity, it is bound to halt.

Similes:

As empty as shelves in a grocery store before hurricane.

As weak as gossamer

Gathered together like a flock of sheep scared by a wolf

As rough as Hitlers hand

Trembling like colibris wings

Praying like mother whose son is at war

Bouncing like a check from an unreliable source

Smiling like a fourty-year-old who is finally getting married

Metaphors:

Heart of gold

Mountains of flowers

War is a dead end

The ocean is a mystery

The moon is Earths friend

This house of cold roommates

My love is a cherry in my cake of life

Writing is pouring your soul on the paper

My friends mother has always been as rough as Hitlers hand, still somewhere deep inside she had a heart of gold. My friends boyfriend brought her mountains of flowers, her mother did not know where they came from. He was her love, he was a cherry in her cake. Later her mom realized that war is a dead end, so she became friends with her cherry and they started a big family later.

Simile

As empty as long winter nights.

As weak as hopeless minds.

Gathered together like children to grandma’s tales.

As rough as unknown roads

Trembling like a lost wanderer,

Praying like my father.

Smiling like a champion

Bouncing like a frog embracing the rain.

Metaphors

Heart of hopes

Mountains of hurdles

War is a change.

The ocean is a mystery

The moon is a pathfinder

The house of  dreamers.

My love is a moonlit night

Writing is a rainbow.

To your city

So many nights I walked barefooted in the heart of your city like a lost wanderer, like a ship in a mystery ocean. That was my nights with your moon. My dark nights with your moonlit nights. Your moon sometimes begged me to clear the gray curtains of fog; I did as I always wanted to, keeping the mountains of hurdles away from the Moon. Because I promised you. I promised you to safeguard the Moon from the black clouds, from the white clouds, from the blue clouds. I also kept the kites away from your moon. I fought with the Sun to keep you happy as you once told me your moon would face a capital punishment on the arrival of the Sun. It never happened; the Moon never died because I was there, your dreamer.

But last night was different. I fed your moon to a beggar at ”Hopes Avenue.” He was starving to death and told me it, the Moon, looked like a toasted naan. I dragged the moon to his mouth because he needed food to live on. I killed your moon; I killed my nights, for a smile on the beggar’s face.

Simile

As empty as words.

As weak as a tongue.

Gathered together like strands of hair.

As rough as an emery board.

Trembling like a needle.

Praying like a mantis.

Bouncing like pebble.

Smiling like an actress.

Metaphor

Heart of steel.

Mountains of ice which melt below your feet.

War is an abortion, taking the life of a son from the mother who bore him.

The ocean is a chisel which sculpted the seven continents.

The moon is the sun of the night, allowing for dim lighting in the night sky.

This house of  disconnect.

My love is a nest.

Writing is history.

Poem

My love is a nest

Protecting those it holds dear.

As empty as words

Like broken promises that will never be fulfilled.

As weak as a tongue

Which in anger utter words that rain down like a waterfall.

This house of  disconnect

In which empty words are exchanged.

Similes

As empty as tear ducts.

As weak as muscle tissue.

Gathered together like a funeral procession.

As rough as a whisper.

Trembling like an epileptic.

Praying like an atheist.

Bouncing like flat stone across a lake.

Smiling like a fool.

Metaphors

Heart of coal.

Mountains of fear.

War is life.

The ocean is the moon.

The moon is the ocean.

This house of cards.

My love is the sky.

Writing is living.

Lost in Translation

Gathered together like a funeral procession

My thoughts set fire to my eyes

And burn through everything in sight.

My lungs left;

Empty as tear ducts.

My sanity teeters

As the ceiling closes in.

I am happy.

The thoughts linger still;

Uncertain like the past.

Life is war;

War is life.

My heart of coal sits still

Atop mountains of fear.

Beneath it the ocean is the moon.

My love is the sky.

Always there;

But never the same.

I am happy.

I am…

(I’m not very good with metaphors and poetry but hopefully this didn’t turn out too bad)

Simile

As empty as…the desert

As weak as…a little girl

Gathered together like…prisoners

As rough as…burlap

Trembling like…a first date

Praying like…a nun

Bouncing like…a ball

Smiling like…a clown

Metaphor

Heart of…gold

Mountains of…laundry

War is…a drug

The ocean is… a hole

The moon is… meditation

This house of… horrors

My love is…magic

Writing is…work

Trembling

With my eyes closed

Talking about what happened

Trying to put words together to not cause much harm,

My words gathered together like prisoners yearning for freedom

And I’m still trembling like a first date

He caresses my face and closes his eyes tightly

And brought his lips to mine.

I squinted

It was a bit like a big, wet kiss on the lips,

But I was sure that I don’t wanted to be kissed by him anymore

I felt nothing

I was empty as my silent face

Mountains of agony washed over me

I was trembling like a first date but it was the last one

He was trembling too and crying and trying to make me change my mind

But every single word from his mouth I didn’t want to hear

And I just left

As empty as a beggar’s hands.

As weak as a new-born kitten.

Gathered together like the pieces of a puzzle.

As rough as the stubble on my face.

Trembling like a puppy in the snow.

Praying like a devout noun.

Bouncing like a scam artist’s check.

Smiling like an innocent child.

Heart of rusted iron.

Mountains of plastic-wrapped butter rolls.

War is the pastime of the rich and bored.

The ocean is a jealous lover.

The moon is the child birthed from the earth.

This house of unfulfilled dreams.

My love is a phoenix rising from its ashes.

Writing is the key that opens all doors of creativity.

After years of praying like a devout noun my resolve finally becomes as weak as a new-born kitten. That was my last resort, my final attempt to attain fulfilling happiness. As I walk back home from being stood-up once again, I look up at the solitary moon. The moon is the child birthed from the earth, yet it has no life upon it as its mother does. I, too, have no life around me, as much as I am the son of a woman who has touched the lives of so many. My only comfort is my writing, the key that opens all doors of creativity, the one refuge in which I may express my miserable feelings in security. Returning my eyes to the ground, I trudge back to my house of unfulfilled dreams.

Hi guys,

Just a reminder of this definition on a metaphor, from the Blog Post 3.2 assignment:

A metaphor is a comparison between two unrelated nouns. Nouns.

So, love (noun) is a battlefield (noun) is a metaphor.

Love is beautiful (adjective) is not. That’s just an example of using the adjective, beautiful, to describe the noun, love.

Sometimes you can use a verb or adjective that doesn’t naturally “belong” with a noun, and thereby suggest a metaphor. For instance, if you say “The carnivorous (adjective) pencil (noun) devoured (verb) the page,” you’re personifying the pencil and thus making (I would argue) a metaphor.  But the surest way to make sure you’re crafting a metaphor is to compare a noun to another noun.

Check your lists to make sure you’re not merely describing a noun with an adjective–especially one that isn’t surprising or doesn’t defamiliarize the noun–since that doesn’t make a metaphor.

Similes

As empty as the devil’s heart.

As weak as a feather.

Gathered together like pieces of broken glass.

As rough as a cats tongue.

Trembling like a chihuahua.

Praying like a nun.

Bouncing like a bubble in the wind.

Smiling like freshly bloomed flowers.

Metaphors

Heart of a lion.

Mountains of pain.

War is infinate.

The ocean is eternal.

The moon is the light of the darkness.

This house of memories.

My love is destructive.

Writing is freedom.

Destruction

My emotions lay puddled on the floor

Gathered together like pieces of broken glass

I stand there as empty as the devil’s heart

Numb; as weak as a feather

It is a constant battle with my giving heart

But this war is infinate

The puddle swells becoming a red ocean

And the ocean is eternal

Piecing together the shards of glass

Too many to put back together

Overwhelmed; I’m sucked in

My love is destructive.

Similes 

As empty as death.

As weak as human flesh.

Gathered together like bees.

As rough as tree bark.

Trembling like a junkie.

Praying like a saint.

Bouncing like a deflated beach ball.

Smiling like serpent.

 Metaphors

Heart of ice.

Mountains of tears.

War is peace.

The ocean is corrupt.

The moon is wild in the quiet of the night, escaping the claws of the night.

This house of crumbs.

My love is war.

Writing is dreaming.

My love is war

War is peace,

Peace unknown without the war,

War unknown without the hope of peace.

Even the moon is at war against the dark.

The moon is wild in the stillness of the night,

Escaping the claws of the darkness.

Waving the white flag.

The good is at war with the bad within us,

One is smiling like a serpent,

The other, praying like a saint.

I dream and dream for peace,

But I can’t write my way out of this one.

The war is constant,

The loser always left trembling like a junkie,

The winner reaping the benefits,

Neither of them being able to keep the winning title.

This race in never ending,

As the moon fades

And light shines anew,

We have entered phase two.

Writing is dreaming,

And I write for you,

as I write for me.

Imagine the sinner without the saint,

and the saint without the sinner.

What a sight such a thing would be!

We are as weak as our weakest link,

the weakest link being our own skin,

the humanity within.

war is peace,

love is war,

neither of them a winner,

both of them too proud to surrender.

thus we reach the end of phase two,

with a screeching halt,

and as empty as death.

[Some of the similes/metaphors I have used might be wrong. I dont know why, but I think sometimes I use them without noticing, but when asked to identify it, for some reason I am having trouble; or maybe I am just over-thinking here.]