Artistic & Descriptive Metaphors, Analogies and Similes

My hours of bliss have been few and far between, like angel visits.

My drawer of fancy-dress costumes lie like sodden fireworks after a damp bonfire night.

Francesca's inheritance had faded away like breathed-on glass turned milky by sunlight.

She was a Brontë heroine who wandered too far on a desolate moor and emerged in the wrong century.

Unexpectedness heaped upon the unexpected: like a burglar disturbed mid-act by the intrusion of another burglar crashing through the kitchen window.

Expressionless, Mercedes attended her classes like a bus conductor collecting fares.

The cruise ship was a floating Butlins.

The storm was there, like a Gothic cathedral, full of glaring gargoyles.

Under intense pressure, like trying to start a motor bike in the path of a charging bull elephant.

Jamal now considered such a pouting sink-estate diva was worse than an infidel, and lower than the dust beneath his chariot wheels.

His excited rants grew louder but were ignored like a Geiger counter outside Chernobyl.

This is the point of no return, like when a chimney stack, being demolished, starts to curve.

Educational failures who cluster in fields, up hills, on the edge of provincial towns to drink cider, lob projectiles and verbals at passing walkers and joggers.

As vainly hopeful as a struggling spiritualist dropping her business card into a passing coffin.

A sorry fashion look that faded faster than the romance of crime.

I turned to Aunt Agatha, whose demeanour was now rather like that of one who, picking daisies on the railway, has just caught the Down Express in the small of the back.

P.G. Wodehouse

Fleeting thoughts randomly entered Katrina's head, never to return in the same way, like the electrons of quantum physics.

Birthmarks are where the fairies have kissed you.

Ashley's impact on the gathering had been as faint as a fingerprint on a window pane.

Death lies on her like an untimely frost.

William Shakespeare
Romeo and Juliet

High above, planes droned like gargantuan insects.

Pulled tight as the gold foil seal of a Nescafé jar.

I was a grain of sand on the desert of oblivion.

We are like hard crustaceans. With each passage from one stage of human growth to the next, we must shed protective shell. We are left exposed and vulnerable — but also embryonic again; able to stretch in marvellous ways we hadn't known before.

The lawyer's punctilious argument folded the witness up like human origami.

Boldness moves the boiling lava-flow of my genius.

With their backs to the camera, the shoplifters pilfered quicker than the light-fingered servants of the Royal Household.

Next to his Marsupial-like paunch, Bruno's plate appeared to have been devoured by locusts.

Desperation is like stealing from the Mafia — you stand a good chance of attracting the wrong attention.

Dress with style to issue a manifesto; dress in fashion to sign a petition.

As crucial and intangible as the dotted line on a map that separates an oil-rich country from it's poor neighbour.

Footfalls of memory, down the passage which we never took, towards the door we never opened.

The skyscraper ascends up like a railway track set for the moon.

With mute boredom and emotional immunity Donald lugs failure around like a sack of bricks.

They burn cash quickly like sailors on shore leave.

The couple cavorted as though they had stepped into a joke illustration on a seaside postcard.

We exchange ideas surreally like a baton passed between two people in a physics thought-experiment who move towards each other at the speed of light.

He strained working in the garden like a contestant in The World's Strongest Man pulling a plane on a runway.

As shiny as the seat of a bus driver's trousers.

The big man sighed violently like a tyre bursting.

As useless as a picture drawn on water.

The high moral ground remains wreathed in fog.