The Great Metaphor Thread

Similes make me smile and I never metaphor I didn't like. All allegories are welcome; allusion, analogy, and alliteration too. Oh heck, any old literary device is fair game for this thread.

My fellow bibliophiles, here's a place to share a particularly artful turn of a phrase — something that awed you, or made you laugh, or cry, or groan and roll your eyes. I mean, have you ever read something and thought — oh yeah, I'm gonna use that one the first chance I get? Or have you come up with a good simile on your own and wanted to float it out there? Well, float it here. Let it fly. Set it free. Let it bounce around the Litnet. Am I mixing metaphors here? Donno. Ah well.

Here's one that's probably a folksy old saying, but I remember it from Ken Kesey's novel, Sometimes a Great Notion —

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The boy was shaking like a dog sh*tting peach pits

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Simple, effective, and even if you've never witnessed such a thing, you can immediately imagine what it'd be like, and sympathize with the animal.

This one hasn't aged as well, but it’s in the same vein. Here's Hunter S. Thompson describing a poor nights sleep:

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I was tossing and turning like a crack baby.

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It probably worked better in the 80s when a certain subset of Americans were convinced the nation was being besieged by drug-addicted welfare moms.

Anyway — Fire at will

Already I’m straying from the script. This one is a form not a device. It’s from the book I just finished, Twilight Territory by Andrew X. Pham:

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seeds of gold to earth
all hopes and fears but a dream
what will be will be

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This haiku was written by one of the main characters, Japanese Army Major Yamazaki Takeshi. It’s towards the end of WWII and Takeshi is posted to Vietnam as a reward for heroic service in the war. Here he is burying a cache of gold and jewels that he’d acquired in a quasi-military raid against a man of low moral fiber.

Takeshi’s thought’s:

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Since the first day he had been drafted, six years earlier, he had hoped for little more than survival. After nearly dying in battle, he now saw life passing by without giving him what made it all worthwhile: love, family, fatherhood. He also knew, from his months in the rehab ward, the misery of living with a crippled body. Whether or not the empire would be victorious at the end of this infernal war, he was certain that it would be dog-eat-dog for veterans trying to earn a livelihood when it was all over, let alone support a family. There was a fate worse than death. Anxiety, doubt, and happiness coalesced in his mind. He dug into his breast pocket for a notebook, scribbled some lines, tore off the page, and placed it on top of the stacks of gold slabs.

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It’s a haiku of course, but it works as a running metaphor for the rest of the novel — what will be will be.

i'll keep my eyes peeled as I go along...

What will be will be Mix English and Portuguese

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i9nWB5XifBI

Oh man! That tune was hugely popular back in the day. It was a little before my time, but I can remember my mother singing along with it when it came on the radio. Her repertoire was that one, a few by Patsy Cline, and all of Julie Andrews’ songs from The Sound of Music. She liked Julie Andrews so much she got her hair cut like hers. We used to give her a hard time when she’d sing because she was usually a little flat and always about a half beat behind. She’d say — I don’t care what you guys think. That’s how I like to sing. More power to you, Madre!

Anyway, I’d always thought Que, Sera, Sera was a Spanish phrase, but according to the wiki page, it’s a little bit Italian, a little bit Spanish, but mostly Portuguese. Go figure.

That is very funny, Sancho because I spent the most part of my life, thinking that the original was Portuguese and had been adopted and translated by US. I also learned only now that this mixed version had played a role in a film by Hitchcock.

Here is the Brazilian version by the best singer of 1956. It was a hit in my childhood.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TKlKMgAKt3g

Nice. I think I like that version better. Music has got to be the most collaborative of any art form. I’m thinking of people getting together with their instruments and putting something together, garage bands, backyard barbecues, church choirs, stuff like that. Once money and record companies are involved, well that’s a whole other thing. Lawyers and judges gotta figure out who’s stealing from whom, and that can be problematic with music.

Here’s B.B. King’s take on it:

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I don’t think anybody steals anything. We all borrow.

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Here’s an oldie but a goodie:

Sh-boom, The Chords

https://youtu.be/XSL-YtVV9U4?si=vmGxBQp4ZHtyHQ4q

Just about everybody’s heard it, but maybe not that particular version. Here’s another version:

Sh-boom, The Crew Cuts

https://youtu.be/CikEbEtnBcE?si=PgnhVzI-pCXwfHmo

Ain’t it a B**** when the cover band gets all the fame and fortune?

In keeping with the gist of the thread, here’s Hunter S. Thompson comparing writing to music. He’s talking about the freedom he gained when he wrote about The Hell’s Angels:

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With the Angels, however, there was a freedom to use words. I’m a word freak. I like words. I’ve always compared writing to music. That’s the way I feel about good paragraphs. When it really works, it’s like music. In sportswriting, you have the freedom to use really aggressive words. There’s a whole breadth of vocabulary. The Angels gave me that same feeling, like hot damn, the thing was rolling right in front of you. You could touch them on their cycles, you could hear them, and you could see the fear and fright in the citizens’ faces.

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From Songs of the Doomed,
book 3 of the Gonzo Papers

My contribution: https://www.google.com/search?newwin...4sNKV_FIw,st:0

:)

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor

Haha!

If the game of golf is a metaphor for life, then my name must be Mulligan.

Speaking of metaphors for life, I think Danik’s earlier posting of the Que Será Será song fits well. I mean we all have a little control over our fate, but we’re also to a certain extent just along for the ride. What will be will be. I was thinking of this yesterday when La señora and I were out for hike in the Olympics (the sun is finally coming back in the PNW). Anyway we were hiking along, enjoying the sunshine, looking for wildlife, and generally having a grand old time. I was in charge of the bag of trail mix and consequently I was munching my way down the trail. I got to thinking about how Forrest Gump’s simile for life related to the song:

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Momma always said, “Life is like a box of chocolates. Ya never know what you’re gonna get.”

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Que Será Será

About that time, La Señora said, “Hey, Sancho! Don’t Bogart the trail mix. Gimme some of that.” So of course I handed over the bag to her. At which point she said, “Ah Christ! You already ate all the M&Ms.”

So here’s my Forrest Gump-like simile for life:

Life is like a bag of trail mix. You’ve still got a ways to go, but you’re down to peanuts and Chex mix because somebody ate all the M&Ms

If ya dig around there might be some raisins left.

A cute metaphor!

By the way:M&Ms are familiar, they are, of course the ones covered with chocolate. We have them here but not Chex mix. Look inviting though:https://www.brazilianashop.com/pacot...42-un-prd.html


Here is a Brazilian one much less imaginative:

Life is a box of surprises. You never know, what you will get.

what sancho is referring to danik is likely his own homemade version of "trail mix" or "gorp" (good ol' raisins and peanuts, usually with some chocolate and who knows what else).

on the m&m's front---they made it to the final four of the candy march madness for tailor where they will soon be competing against snickers, and then the winner of peppermint patty and heath bar.

Holy-Moly, I never knew what GORP stood for. I oughtta start a Great Acronym Thread.

Also, are you effing kidding me!? Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups didn’t make the cut!? Blasphemy.

Yes, well, so anyway, Naughty Metaphors.

This one's a little dated because we don't really hear cigarette commercials on air anymore. Laws were passed in the 60s and 70s. Even before the government saved us from cigarette ads, they were saving us from obscenities being broadcast. The upside of FCC regulation was we got A LOT of sexual innuendo and metaphor in music, some subtle, some not. This one is not so subtle:

I Don't Know
Willie Mabon, 1952
Covered by
The Blues Brothers, 1978:

https://youtu.be/dhKoI2eXdRc?si=SEDZE9zXNJC6qR_t

About 2:40 into the video:

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I said Baby
You know when you bend over I see every bit of Christmas
And when you bend back I'm looking right into the New Year
She said Honey, you know I gave up cigarettes for my New Year's resolution
But I didn't give up smoking
I said Woman, you going to walk a mile for a Camel
Or are you going to make like Mr Chesterfield and satisfy?
She said That all depends on what you’re packing
Regular or Kingsize
Then she pulled out my Jim Beam, and to her surprise
It was every bit as hard as my Canadian Club
I said What now you got to say baby?
She said Umm...I don't know

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unfortunately, possibly due to a lack of seeding on my part, reeses peanut butter cups were defeated in the first round by heath bar, which recently just defeated peppermint patty to earn a spot in the finals against snickers.

Well, I enjoyed the Deaver book, The Bone Collector. I liked the science. Also he did a nice job building the characters. Here's a science-y metaphor he used to describe Amelia Sachs' driving stye (fast):

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Sachs now sliced between two double-parked trucks, hoping that neither a passenger nor a driver would open his door. In a Doppler whisper she was past them.

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I'm thinking you get a sound-wave doppler effect when Amelia drives by.

@ bounty I just intended to set on peppermint!

@Sancho- the problem about these metaphors is that they occur more easily in Portuguese for me but go nuts when I try to translate them.

One beautiful current example: "passar o pano para alguém". Literally it means "wipe (the room) with a damp cloth for someone."
Methaphorically it is used to express the attenuation excuse or the covering up of a fault, a bad action or even a crime, as wiping the floor is considered a superficial and inadequate way of cleaning a room.In Brazilian politics there is always a lot of floor wiping going on.

Good one, Danik. I like hearing that sort of thing from another language/culture. It sounds similar to what we do when we “whitewash” something. We’ll take an event that is not necessarily nefarious, but certainly is not virtuous either, and whitewash all the dirty little details out of it. School children here tend to learn a whitewashed version of American history. Then when they’re older if they decide to dig a little deeper or take a college-level course, their reaction frequently is — WTF!? That is not what I learned in school!

A similar expression which is usually used in political circles is to “spin” something. Someone trying to push a policy or opinion will put a “spin” on it by only listing the things in the “pro” column and leave out the things in the “cons” column. I think it’s like putting a spin on a tennis ball, which will make the ball bounce a certain direction.

******
Peppermint Patties for me!

I came across this simile in the book I’m currently reading, The Hunter by Tana French. I thought it was artful.

Trey (Teresa) is a boyish girl about 15 years old, poor, and somewhat feral. She has befriended Cal who is a retired policeman. Brendan is (was?) her older brother who disappeared some time ago:

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Six months before Trey met Cal, Brendan walked out of the house one afternoon and never came back. Trey doesn’t think about those six months, but they’re layered into her like a burn ring inside a tree.

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Beautiful

Beautiful indeed, Sancho!

I like this metaphor from my current read, The Moor’s Account:

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He warned me that trade would open the door to greed and greed was an inconsiderate guest; it would bring its evil relations with it.

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The context is this: a young man is speaking with his father about his future. The father wants him to be a lawyer, and if not a lawyer, a carpenter. The father reasons both are honorable professions. One is a work of the mind and the other a work of the hands. But the son wants to be a merchant. He likes the rough-and-tumble world of the market in their town — Azemmur, Morocco.

A most excellent Grateful Dead simile:

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I spent three years on the road with show dogs, handlers, judges, and other dog people who roam the country like Deadheads with hair spray.

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Found today in a story in The Atlantic by Tommy Tomlinson:

Why a Dog’s Death Hits So Hard
I loved my mom more than my dog. So why did I cry for him but not for her?

RIP Jerry Garcia

Do similie's count? P. G. Wodehouse describes his uncle as looking "like a pterodactyl with a secret sorrow," and describes Jeeves removing his purple socks from the drawer "as if he were a vegetarian fishing a caterpillar out of the salad."


I've always loved Ted Hughes' description of a motionless fish on a hot day: The carp is in its depth/Like a planet in its heaven.

Haha! I like ‘em all. And that second one kinda has a metaphor within a simile, eh? I mean the vegetarian is fishing the caterpillar out of the salad.

And as far as similes on the metaphor thread, I’m gonna make like Kool-Aid Man, bust through this wall, and say — Oh Yeah!

Besides this thread is a democracy and —

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all literary devices are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are …

Ah well, the correlation with the U.S. Declaration of Independence falls apart there, but you-all get the picture, yeah?

Hey, speaking of politics, I heard a good simile on a podcast the other day — Bill Maher’s Club Random. Bill was chatting with Sheryl Crow about all sorts of things, music mostly, and the subject of Kid Rock came up. Sheryl and Kid Rock are polar opposites politically, but they are close friends and have worked together artistically. Anyway a couple of years ago Kid Rock made a video that went viral where he blows away several cases of Bud Light with an automatic rifle. Evidently he did this because Bud Light made a TV ad with Dylan Mulvaney, a transgender-rights activist.

So Bill’s comment was something like — Yeah, Kid Rock is like my dog. He’ll bark at nothing.

https://youtu.be/vpK0ZVh-PGU?si=F3rRQQbLWQ2dJjHL

Here’s a few from my latest read, Raymond Chandler’s The Big Sleep, a hard-boiled Philip Marlowe detective novel from the ‘30s:

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I read all three of the morning papers over my eggs and bacon the next morning. Their accounts of the affair came as close to the truth as newspaper stories usually come—as close as Mars is to Saturn.

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Under the thinning fog the surf curled and creamed, almost without sound, like a thought trying to form itself on the edge of consciousness.

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He wore a blue uniform coat that fitted him the way a stall fits a horse.

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Blood began to move around in me, like a perspective tenant looking over a house.

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I liked this one, not exactly anthropomorphism, more like felinemorphism:

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I reached with my foot, but the starter button had to be on the dash. I found it at last, pulled it and the starter ground. The warm motor caught at once. It purred softly, contentedly.

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Also I liked it because in this scene Marlowe is trying to find the starter first with his foot, then he checked the dash. We used to have an old Willy’s Jeep that had the starter button on the floor, under the clutch pedal.

Detective Dave Robicheaux is speaking in the first person. Here he recalls the beginning of an investigation. And at any rate, as a professional aviator and amateur musician, I admired this aeronautical simile and musical metaphor:

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Later, I would remember the pro forma beginnings of the investigation like the tremolo you might experience through the structure of an airplane just before oil from an engine streaks across your window.

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James Lee Burke, Pegasus Descending