Simile Poem Novels & Stories

The crescent moon standing in radiant light, so does the light linger round our souls, intertwining. The sands standing firm in earthly adornment, like an immovable roadside tree, so does my love stand bellicose and accoutred—a lion, Immortal as God The dusts spiraling into a whirlwind, so does my mind spiral at the thought of you as i teleport into a utopia of endless possibilities.

I talked dreamily about my passion for the literature and how I picture myself teaching the same one day. "Wow Sophia it's..it's unbelievable. I mean I have never met someone in whom I see myself.At least not in my family. When I heard that Daniel's marriage was fixed,I pictured my brother with one of my mother's porcelain dolls.Believe me Sophia, I am not exaggerating.Those sophisticated ladies behave like if they pick up a glass of water themselves, it will crush them under it's weight." His simile for his mother's high class women made me burst in laughter.The way he described them,it was hilarious.

When the vast expanse of sky was enveloped in darkness, we realized who we were. I am getting tired of explaining how your eyes are like a galaxy in a bottle and how your lips shine like a crescent moon in the darkness. You are, without a doubt, my walking poetry. However, these are merely common analogies. Every time I fall, I feel like a leaf that has dried out and lost its sheen, but you have painted me a warm green under the soft colors of the sun's rays. I feel like I am falling into autumn with you.

The stars sparkle overhead like tiny diamonds scattered across the dark sky, giving everything an almost magical feel. The poem draws me in through Anara’s soft, rosy lips. Her emerald green eyes glitter toward me like precious gems, even in the faint moonlight. With the sky full of stars, I can make out every freckle on her face, like her own little private constellation. The steady chirping of cicadas and the quiet sounds of the deer nearby seem to blend perfectly with Anara’s voice, turning the whole night into a peaceful symphony.

“There is a cave, Shannon, in the depths of space. It stretches on for infinity, lined with burning tallows. Candles soar to the heights of the stars. Rows of souls nestle together; wax drips as time runs out. Each flame is a life: newborns have full sticks, the middle aged are stubs, and the dying snuff in waxy pools.” “That's impossible.” “It's a metaphor. But it is true.” “Are you a metaphor, then?” He mused: “I consider myself a simile.” I sighed. “Samael, what are you doing?” His face soured, abyssal eyes returning to normal. “I- I don't... know.” He drew back from me, leaving me alone in the frigid air. His gaze darkened. There was a sudden change in his eyes. “What are you

she quoted. Your voice is like a bird, but everyone’s ears are bleeding. From the inside, your house shines and shines, but from the outside, you can see it’s built from bones. From out here, it looks like a graveyard, and the garden’s all ash. And besides, your breath stinks. We’re through. She remembered a poem she read by Ross Gay years ago and burst out into laughter. " The last line always gets me." She laughed harder, almost falling off her bed.

“You think this world, this pack, is all there is? That Simon is all you can get? It’s a cage, and he’s just another faceless crow, no different from the rest of them. And you’re the prettiest little bird sitting in it that all the crows want to maul. One day, you’ll wake up and realize I was right, and one crow is like another…. No crow is ever going to be a match for the prettiest little bird. But by then, I’ll be long gone. Finding all the other pretty little birds to fly with.” Eve with her maddening metaphors. Flashing red eyes and obvious anger, my way... The underlying storm brewing in her soul, and I can taste it. Facing me now, her hair whipping gently in the wind, pale under the mo

She described her thoughts on it in relation to nature and destruction and decided to share another piece of hers she was proud of. She turned her laptop to face Remus and he read the poem. Degradation Filthy, but, yet alive The dust rises around Growing and spreading Like parasites clinging to what little there is The dust rises around Its legs dug into the ground Like parasites clinging to what little there is Sucking the life force around them Its legs dug into the ground The roots spread out deep below Sucking the life force around them Leaving nothing behind The roots spread out deep below Running its lines and taking over Leaving nothing behind

Love; the word felt as though it was too easily thrown from mouth to mouth, but his mind couldn't help but wander to the antiquated words of Edmund Spenser. "My Love is like to ice, and I to fire: How comes it then that this her cold so great-Is not dissolved through my so hot desire, But stronger grows the more I her entreat? Or how comes it that my exceeding heat is not allayed by her heart-frozen cold, But that I burn much more in boiling sweat, and feel my flames augmented manifold? What more miraculous thing may be told; That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice. And ice, which is congeal’d with senseless cold, should kindle fire by wonderful device?"

Paige told him. "But I've made great progress, haven't I?" Simon asked, yet to wipe out the grin on his face "And how will I know how much progress you've made, if I don't know how bad your temper was as a boy?" Paige asked with a soft smile. "Ahh! my temper, it was a trembling building that keeps trying to collapse each time the wind blows. It is very..." "Oh god!" Paige interrupted him, almost choking with laughter. "Where the hell did you get such a metaphor from?" Simon started, laughing as well.