Metaphors

Benbaz

Probably been posted a million times before, but really funny nonetheless!!! Enjoy!!

These are (apparently) real metaphors taken from last
> > > > > > years Leaving
> > > > > > Cert
> > > > > > > English essays. It is clear that the Irish education
> > > > > > system is still
> > > > > > > capable
> > > > > > > of producing another James Joyce, Oscar Wilde or....
> > > > > > Roddy Doyle and
> > > > > > one
> > > > > > > such may well be be lurking amongst this lot.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > ***************
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had
> > > > > > its two other
> > > > > > > sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and
> > > > > > breaking
> > > > > > > alliances like underpants in a tumble dryer.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook
> > > > > > > latches that used to dangle from doors and would fly
> > > > > > up whenever you
> > > > > > > banged the door open again.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > The little boat gently drifted across the pond
> > > > > > exactly the way a
> > > > > > > bowling ball wouldn't.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > McMurphy fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like
> > > > > > a
> > > > > > > paper bag filled with vegetable soup.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after
> > > > > > a sneeze.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black
> > > > > > dots in the
> > > > > > > centre
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like
> > > > > > maggots when you
> > > > > > > fry them in hot grease.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed
> > > > > > lovers raced across
> > > > > > > the grassy field toward each other like two freight
> > > > > > trains, one
> > > > > > having
> > > > > > > left Cork at 6:36 p.m. travelling at 55 mph, the
> > > > > > other from Dublin at
> > > > > > > 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the full
> > > > > > > stop after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > John and Mary had never met. They were like two
> > > > > > > hummingbirds who had also never met.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > The thunder was ominous sounding, much like the
> > > > > > sound
> > > > > > > of a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage
> > > > > > during the
> > > > > > > storm scene in a play.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > The red brick wall was the colour of a brick-red
> > > > > > crayon.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > Even in his last years, Grandpa had a mind like a
> > > > > > steel trap,
> > > > > > > only one that had been left out so long it had
> > > > > > rusted shut.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > The door had been forced, as forced as the dialogue
> > > > > > during the
> > > > > > > interview portion of Family Fortunes.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > The plan was simple, like my brother Phil. But
> > > > > > unlike
> > > > > > > Phil, this plan just might work.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you
> > > > > > get
> > > > > > > from not eating for a while.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > Oh, Jason, take me!" she panted, her breasts heaving
> > > > > > > like a student on 31p-a-pint night.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > 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.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like
> > > > > > > someone who can tell butter from "I Can't Believe
> > > > > > It's Not Butter."
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that
> > > > > > > sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > It came down the stairs looking very much like
> > > > > > > something no one had ever seen before.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > The knife was as sharp as the tone used by Mary
> > > > > > > Harney TD in her first of several points of
> > > > > > parliamentary procedure
> > > > > > > made to John Bruton, in the Moriarty Tribunal
> > > > > > hearings on the
> > > > > > corruption
> > > > > > > of Michael Lowry.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended
> > > > > > > one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a
> > > > > > lamppost.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > 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
> > > > > > cashpoint.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > The dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an
> > > > > > > oscillating electric fan set on medium.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > It was a working class tradition, like fathers
> > > > > > > chasing kids around with their power tools.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he
> > > > > > > heard bells, as if she were a dustcart reversing.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > She was as easy as the Daily Star crossword.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and
> > > > > > > he was room-temperature British beef.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > She walked into my office like a centipede with 98
> > > > > > > missing legs.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > Her voice had that tense, grating quality, like a
> > > > > > > first-generation thermal paper fax machine that
> > > > > > needed a band
> > > > > > > tightened.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you
> > > > > > > accidentally staple it to the wall.

Pugsley

rofl! some classics there, pretty old but brilliant never the less

JohnK

lmao
brilliant

Sangre

Rofl brillaint, think ill use some of them in my LC

scuzzy

It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.

I'm gonna use this in every single piece of literature I write...

Zaphod B

To be a compete and utter cock, I have to point out they're similes and not metaphors. I love being an asshole.

Some damn funny ones there tho

hells angels

I dont no how all u ppl heard these be4 but i've never heard any of them and i tink there all pure genius...:)

Victor

Bulletin Board friendly version :P

---

These are (apparently) real metaphors taken from last years Leaving Cert English essays. It is clear that the Irish education system is still capable of producing another James Joyce, Oscar Wilde or.... Roddy Doyle and one such may well be be lurking amongst this lot.

***************

Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two other sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a tumble dryer.

She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to dangle from doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open again.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.

McMurphy fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a paper bag filled with vegetable soup.

Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.

Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the centre

Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.

The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cork at 6:36 p.m. travelling at 55 mph, the other from Dublin at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the full stop after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.

John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

The thunder was ominous sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play.

The red brick wall was the colour of a brick-red crayon.

Even in his last years, Grandpa had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long it had rusted shut.

The door had been forced, as forced as the dialogue during the interview portion of Family Fortunes.

Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

The plan was simple, like my brother Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.

The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.

"Oh, Jason, take me!" she panted, her breasts heaving like a student on 31p-a-pint night.

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.

Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter."

She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

It came down the stairs looking very much like something no one had ever seen before.

The knife was as sharp as the tone used by Mary Harney TD in her first of several points of parliamentary procedure made to John Bruton, in the Moriarty Tribunal
hearings on the corruption of Michael Lowry.

The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a lamppost.

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 cashpoint.

The dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an oscillating electric fan set on medium.

It was a working class tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with their power tools.

He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a dustcart reversing.

She was as easy as the Daily Star crossword.

She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature British beef.

She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.

Her voice had that tense, grating quality, like a first-generation thermal paper fax machine that needed a band tightened.

It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.

Benbaz

Victor, you have WAAAAAAY too much time on your hands!!!!!

bozzie

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.

rofl

AdMMM

Twas to long for me to read all of it, but for what it is worth, the bit I did read was funny!

LoGiE

The door had been forced, as forced as the dialogue
during the interview portion of Family Fortunes

The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond
exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.

My favorites:D