OohSparkles
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- 2009
Metaphors Found in NSW Year 12 English essays
Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature prime English beef.
She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.
Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot oil.
Even in his last years, Grandad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature prime English beef.
She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.
Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot oil.
Even in his last years, Grandad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
