The Meaning-Making Magic of Metaphor

Metaphor makes successful literature possible.

This might seem like a bold statement. After all, there are great poems that don’t use metaphors, and writers can employ many strategies to write effectively without them.

But here’s the truth: all successful writing operates via some form of metaphor. Contrary to what you may have been taught, a metaphor is more than just an artful comparison.

This essay tunnels into every writer’s most powerful tool for generating meaning. Even writing that never employs metaphor does, in some way, utilize metaphor’s capacity for comparison. Through metaphor examples, literary analysis, and exercises you can use for your own work, you will understand how, exactly, metaphor sits at the heart of all language.

First, the basics. What is a metaphor?

Metaphor Definition: The Direct Comparison

The word “metaphor” comes directly from the Greek word metaphora, “a transfer.” That’s exactly what metaphors do: they transfer identities, altering the reader’s understanding of the nature of something.

A metaphor is a statement in which two items, often unrelated, are treated as the same thing. Also known as a “direct comparison,” metaphors can create powerful imagery and description, deepening the meaning of objects and ideas.

A metaphor is a statement in which two things, often unrelated, are treated as the same thing.

Rather than using “like” or “as” (the way similes do), metaphors are statements of being, often using words like “is,” “are,” and “became” to make a comparison. Metaphors can also make a comparison without using “being verbs” or other words of comparison.

Take these three metaphor examples, which each draw a unique portrait without using excessive language:

The first metaphor shows us the clock’s size and importance; the second metaphor shows us the clock’s ominous presence, focusing on its sound; the third metaphor treats the clock as forlorn and solitary.

In other words, each of these metaphors express the relevance of the grandfather clock without stating it explicitly. Isn’t that elegant? This is one great facet of metaphors: the ability to tell a story through proximity.

Anatomy of a Metaphor: The Tenor and Vehicle

Every metaphor is composed of two elements: a tenor and a vehicle. Really, these are fancy words for “the subject of comparison” and “the thing the subject is being compared to.”

• Tenor: The subject of the metaphor; the person, place, thing, or idea being described through comparison.
• Vehicle: What the tenor is compared to; the thing which lends its qualities or essence to the subject of the metaphor.

Tenor and vehicle: “the subject of comparison” and “the thing the subject is being compared to.”

Let’s keep the grandfather clock motif going. What do you think the tenor and vehicle are in the following metaphor example?

The tenor, or subject, is the grandfather clock. The vehicle is the soldier—and any related military language which describes the clock.

Sometimes, the tenor and vehicle are hard to identify, particularly in passages with elaborate metaphors. Here’s a metaphor example, retrieved from The Writer’s Almanac:

What do you think the tenor and vehicle are?

It’s a bit hard to find—the tenor is not explicitly stated. The vehicle is clearly the orca—”the inevitable, the black and / white blindsiding” fact. That “fact” implies the poem’s tenor: essentially, anything horrible, eventual; the more disturbing events and truths of life.

Qualities of Metaphors

A metaphor is not just a transformation within language—it works to transform a piece of writing itself. As such, it’s important to think about the qualities of metaphors—particularly successful ones.

While not every metaphor shares these traits, meaningful metaphors:

1. Are confident statements of being.

A strong metaphor asserts its transformative power. The grandfather clock is king of the furniture. There’s no waffling, no “I think it is” or “Perhaps”. A metaphor convinces us of the nature of things, and thus generates intrigue for its powerful assertion.

Moreover, the metaphor is much more “complete” than related devices, such as the simile.

A strong metaphor asserts its transformative power.

If I was actually writing about a grandfather clock, I would only choose one metaphor and stick with it. Multiple metaphors will contradict each other because they’re creating different statements of being; If I say the grandfather clock is a king, a death knell, and a soldier, the reader will inevitably wonder if the clock is actually any of these things, and this thought process will interrupt the reader’s experience and understanding. (This example is known as a mixed metaphor.)

2. Rely on a suspension of disbelief in the reader.

Metaphors rely on the suspension of disbelief—in other words, the reader knows they are being lied to, and accepts it anyway.

Metaphors can be imaginative—magical, even!—but they must be relevant.

Obviously, a clock cannot be a king, nor can it be a death knell or a lover… it is a clock, after all.

Nonetheless, the reader accepts what is being told to them because they trust that the metaphor, and what it conveys, is relevant to the text and its ideas. Metaphors can be imaginative—magical, even!—but they must be relevant.

3. Utilize the power of estrangement.

A metaphor estranges its subject matter.

Estrangement is an essential tool of art. Don’t take my word for it—Viktor Shklovsky’s 1917 essay “Art as Device” identifies estrangement as the fulcrum on which art rests.

Shklovsky argues that the role of artistic literature is to estrange the reader from the subject material in order to change their perspective. (This is sometimes translated into English as “defamiliarization”; “estrangement” is a working synonym for it, too.) Metaphor makes the familiar strange to us, and through that strangeness, both writer and reader can see through the veil of our automatic relationships to things and understand more deeply the world around.

Metaphor makes the familiar strange to us, and through that strangeness, both writer and reader can see through the veil of our automatic relationships to things.

When I tell you that a grandfather clock is a soldier, it estranges you from the subject of the grandfather clock: your image of the clock changes and you imbue it with new and unexpected qualities. (The same would happen if I told you that the grandfather clock is a weak-willed servant of time. Not so tall and mighty now, is it?)

Thus, metaphor helps estrange us from what we read and, paradoxically, understand the subject more deeply.

4. Involve concrete imagery.

A metaphor is only as effective as its use of image. Successful metaphors typically utilize vivid imagery in its work of comparison.

Successful metaphors typically utilize vivid imagery in its work of comparison.

This is true even (and perhaps especially) of metaphors that seek to describe abstract ideas and concepts. Love, for example, is often the subject of literature: according to Shakespeare, Love is “is an ever-fixed mark / That looks on tempests and is never shaken.” To E. E. Cummings, love is “is most mad and moonly / and less it shall unbe / than all the sea which only / is deeper than the sea.”

Both poets approach the topic with somewhat similar imagery, yet imbue love with starkly different qualities. It is through image that Love’s nature is embodied and thus felt for the reader.

Metaphor Vs Simile

Metaphors and similes bucket under the same category of literary device. Namely, they are both comparison devices: they each compare the subject of a piece of writing to something (un)alike.

Metaphor differentiates itself from simile by being a direct comparison, whereas simile is the indirect comparison. Where metaphors involve a total transformation of their subjects, similes, by contrast, say their subject is “like”, “as” or otherwise similar to the object of comparison.

Where metaphors involve a total transformation of their subjects, similes, by contrast, say their subject is similar to the object of comparison.

As such, here are a few ways similes operate differently than metaphors in literature:

Simile vs. Metaphor: Comparison Words

A simile will always use a comparison word. The most common of these comparison words are “like” and “as,” but there are other ways of denoting comparison, too. The following statements mean virtually the same thing, but use slightly different terms of comparison:

• The elephant sat still, like a statue.
• The elephant sat as still as a statue.
• The elephant sat still the way statues do.

Metaphors, on the other hand, rely on various forms of the verb “to be”—if they use a comparison word at all.

Metaphors, on the other hand, rely on various forms of the verb “to be”—if they use a comparison word at all. Metaphors can also be implied through punctuation and word choice. All of the following are proper constructions for the metaphor:

• The elephant was a statue amongst the trees.
• The elephant had petrified at the sight of the tiger; a statue of instinct.
• The elephant: a marble statue.

You could even make the noun “marble” a verb (a device known as anthimeria). “The elephant was marbled at the sight of the tiger” offers a unique image of stillness.

Simile vs. Metaphor: Differences of Intensity

When a simile compares two or more items, each item retains their individual meanings. For example, if I said “this pancake is as thick as a Dostoevsky novel,” you can visualize the thickness of both items while still imagining two different objects, the pancake and the book. The simile is humorous while still being descriptive.

With metaphors, the object of comparison transforms.

With metaphors, the object of comparison transforms. If I said “this pancake is a Dostoevsky novel,” you would envision a pancake about 1,000 pages thick. (Sounds delicious!)

Here’s a metaphor and a simile side-by-side. Take note of how your mental image differs between these two sentences.

• The little boy clings to his mother like ivy clings to a tree.
• He was an ivy growing up his mother’s legs.

Simile vs. Metaphor: Degree of Magic

Yes, magic! Because metaphors are statements of being (whereas similes are statements of likeness), a metaphor can rely on visual descriptions that aren’t bound by the laws of logic. An elephant can be marble, a boy can be ivy, and my cat is (and always will be) a bulldozer.

A metaphor can rely on visual descriptions that aren’t bound by the laws of logic.

Similes, by contrast, cannot make statements quite as “magical” in nature. While you might make comparisons to mystical items with a simile—“she waved her flag like a magic wand”—there are still two distinct objects at the end of the sentence, not one magically combined idea.

Extended Metaphor Definition

Another device you can put in your literary toolbox is the extended metaphor. Sometimes synonymous with the literary device conceit, the extended metaphor expands upon a simple comparison to uncover the full truth and complexity of its transformation.

The extended metaphor expands upon a simple comparison to uncover the full truth and complexity of its transformation.

Let’s start with a simple metaphor:

The comparison here is easy to understand, and in fact, this metaphor could stand on its own quite easily. But it can also be expanded to say more about the life cycle of a broken heart.

Extended metaphors exist in both prose and poetry. For now, let’s use prose.

For examples of extended metaphor in literature, take a look at these poems.

• Hope is the thing with feathers by Emily Dickinson
• Landscape with Fruit Rot and Millipede by Richard Siken
• Habitation by Margaret Atwood

Close Study: Metaphor Examples in “Outbreaks” by Kitchen McKeown

Here’s an example of a poem that wields metaphor to great success. Read it closely, then read more for an analysis of how metaphor operates in this piece. 

Retrieved here.

This gorgeous, kaleidoscopic poem resists easy interpretation, which is all the more reason to look at it closely. I love the sense of endless transformation and searching that prompts this piece forward, the sense of smallness and mundanity reinterpreted by metaphor, and the overabundance of the spiritual in the ordinary. Great poetry often arrives at something “bigger-than-us”—lets examine how Kitchen McKeown is able to do this in “Outbreaks.”

In a great poem, each line builds upon a certain kind of tension that prompts the poem’s existence. In this poem, the speaker’s identity is constantly being transformed by metaphor, and through this transformation, the speaker searches for “god,” almost as though god is a hole that cannot be filled.

In a great poem, each line builds upon a certain kind of tension that prompts the poem’s existence. In this poem, the speaker’s identity is constantly being transformed by metaphor

Let’s first look at the nature of identity in this poem. The speaker has an ever-shifting sense of self—which is skillfully represented in the poem’s use of a lowercase “i”. The central comparison is the speaker to that of an eel, which comes after the speaker admires the eel’s size and history: the eels that visit the speaker are seven feet in length, have arrived from long distances, and curve around “the precipice of life.” (What do the eels represent? More on that later.) The speaker, after this, becomes an eel, “then rethink[s] it”—only to become the kind of thing that coughs wet moths, with skin as pale as sunbleached wood. There’s a lot of beautiful, interesting imagery here, though it’s hard to understand exactly what’s happening.

This brings us to the poem’s search for lowercase-g god, which constantly eludes the speaker, much like their identity does as well. The opening line establishes this dynamic: “i search for god but the sun is a penny.” The “but” makes god’s elusive nature obvious, but what does it mean that the sun is a penny? It’s almost as though the speaker is minimizing or cheapening what’s sacred or untouchable. Perhaps the sun was a guidepost for finding god, and now that guidepost no longer exists. Then: i search for god but “the moon is gone”. Then: “i search for comfort”; the eels come; the moon, another beacon of god, disappears, though the speaker still searches for comfort “in slant of moonlight.” (And don’t forget the moths, which were once a soul-like halo, then a cloud, then something the speaker coughs.)

These transformations are both chaser and chased. The speaker transforms towards god, and god transforms away. It appears that, in the search for comfort, the speaker stumbles upon god, an accident, perhaps because of the comfort the eels bring.

The speaker transforms towards god, and god transforms away.

So, there are two transformations going on here: transformation of self, and transformation of the search for god/comfort. At the center of this is the eel-related imagery. Why eels? They’re not exactly comforting to look at. Personally, whenever I see potentially-electric river snakes sliming around with their gaping mouths, I think, among other things, “this is not comforting to look at.” There’s a certain irony to this particular image, but the eels also feel relevant to this search for god and self, which constantly loops and folds and twists and curves like eels’ bodies do. The eels themselves feel like agents of god: angels, in a way, or else guideposts towards what the speaker is looking for. Imbued with a certain strange holiness, these eels cluster beneath the speaker’s palm to become god, which results in this wonderful final movement:

It is as though the poem has been orbiting an empty center, then crash landed into that center, only to find more nothingness. As though god is an asymptote, something to aspire towards yet never reach, something that will present itself when you’re not looking for it, and never in the form you expect. This is how every image and metaphor seems to operate in the poem, whether god comes in the form of eels, or comfort comes in the form of neon signs and pines (some lovely, ironic juxtaposition here as well).

What I’m left with, after reading this poem about a thousand times, is a sense of wonder at the mysterious workings of the spiritual. I appreciate the secular nature of this poem, how its attempts to find god feel applicable to anyone’s creed (or lack thereof), and I also appreciate how the poem’s driving tension is the gravitational pull of both god and selfhood, two strange and asymptotic forces that always leave us wanting more. Finally, I love this poem’s strange and fantastic metaphors, rich with interpretation and awe, letting the speaker shapeshift their way towards that beautiful and catastrophic plummet into the untouchable center of identity and higher powers; an asteroid plummeting, perhaps, into itself.

More Metaphor Examples in Literature

The following metaphor examples all come from published works of literature.

Sometimes, the simplest metaphors carry the most complex meanings. The premise of this direct comparison is easy to understand: the things that trouble us now may strengthen us later. At the very least, those stars are twinkles of wisdom that we gain from life experience, illuminating our paths forward, if dimly.

Yet, the operative word in this metaphor is “may.” The things that trouble us might strengthen us, but they might also create an eternal dusk. And, even with starshine, our souls can very much be blanketed by night.

What emerges from this metaphor is a bittersweet rumination on life and its many perils. Accruing wisdom is always a choice, but faith in the light is vital for anyone to push forward.

This metaphor is a form of personification, a literary device in which nonhuman objects are given humanlike qualities. Specifically, Shakespeare is comparing the sunrise to that of a person, dressed in “russet” red, walking up a hill.

It’s a simple and beautiful comparison. Instead of saying “the sunrise is red,” Shakespeare personifies the dawn itself, showing us its russet color, its slow ascent, and the morning dew that flecks each blade of grass.

The metaphor here accomplishes several things, but first, I should note that there are several different metaphors here. 

Let’s anatomize the metaphor. So, the subject (tenor) is the speaker’s heart, and the comparisons (vehicles) are a bonfire, a stone, a whirlwind, and a broken mirror.

Each of these objects describe something different about the speaker’s heart. She would like her heart to be a bonfire—a symbol of passion and livelihood. Instead, her heart is a series of objects that cannot catch fire, with each object symbolic of something else. A stone might symbolize heavy and immovable emotions; a whirlwind might represent the speaker’s capricious feelings; a broken mirror might reflect the speaker’s fragmented sense of self.

“But wait! Isn’t that a mixed metaphor?” Yes—but it’s a mixed metaphor that works. The series of incongruent symbols gives the reader a window into the speaker’s heart. By comparing each symbol to the speaker’s desired “bonfire heart,” the reader recognizes the many emotions preserved in each image, and the speaker’s own difficulty on the quest for transformation. 

More on mixed metaphors below: 

Wielding Metaphor Effectively

So how can you be a genius?

Ways to Use Metaphor

In a metaphor, one thing is likened to another. Vivid metaphors are considered a mark of good writing. Since a metaphor disregards logic—an object cannot be something else and be itself at the same time—some consider it “superior” to the simile (though there are plenty of superior similes out there).

Using metaphors is much more than writing “something is something else.” Using a sustained metaphor that is neither over-extended nor mixed can be effective:

The point is to use metaphor vividly, intentionally, and as a means of revealing the nature of things. Also, as a general word of caution, try not to use too many metaphors near one another: each device deserves space to let its full impact be felt. 

Use metaphor vividly, intentionally, and as a means of revealing the nature of things.

Use metaphors:

• As verbs: The song ignited his lust but snuffed out her interest.
• As adjectives and adverbs: Her carnivorous brush ate up the canvas.
• As prepositional phrases: The old man considered the scene with a blue-white vulture’s eye.
• As appositives or modifiers: On the stairs he stood, a gawking scarecrow.

Ways Not to Use Metaphor

Metaphors, by way of their complexity and importance, are very easy to misuse. Common instances of poor metaphor usage include that of the cliché and the mixed metaphor. 

Common instances of poor metaphor usage include that of the cliché and the mixed metaphor.

Good metaphors can become, if they grow to be well known, clichés. (Clichés are “dead metaphors.”) Clichés dull your writing. They become almost invisible to the reader.

How do you know your metaphor is a cliché? Other than being well read, you can acquaint yourself with lists from a number of books or check websites like Cliché Finder.

Another unsuccessful form of metaphor is one that is “mixed.” In a mixed metaphor, the parts of the comparison don’t match. They can be funny, but you don’t want them popping up in your serious writing. Examples of mixed metaphors include:

In a mixed metaphor, the parts of the comparison don’t match.

There’s also a danger in using metaphors poorly and not even realizing we are using them. Jack Lynch, in his “Guide to Grammar and Style” cites this “more or less realistic example of business writing”:

“Let’s count the metaphors,” writes Lynch. “We have images of a marsh (swamped), electrocution or striking (shocking), a military assault (barrage), weight (burden), translucency (clear), a physical impression (impact), and a river (flow), all in a mere twenty words. If you can summon up a coherent mental image including all these elements, your imagination’s far superior to mine.”

Lynch then gives a real example from “The New York Times” (11 June 2001):

Lynch: “Let’s see: research is fragmented among soup (among?); it is strained (you can strain soup, I suppose, but I’m unsure how to strain research); and it is starved — not enough soup, I suppose. Or maybe the soup has been strained too thoroughly, leaving people hungry. I dunno.

The moral of the story: pay attention to the literal meaning of figures of speech and your writing will come alive.”

Are All Literary Devices Forms of Metaphor?

Comparison is at the heart of art. Artists and writers seek to show you the world as they see it and imagine it—M. C. Benner Dixon argues here in LitHub that metaphors are literally how we construct our understanding of the world.

Does that make all devices some form of metaphors?

Not necessarily—but it does mean comparison is an essential tool for all writers.

Metaphors are literally how we construct our understanding of the world.

Sound devices like rhythm and meter aren’t metaphors. Arguably, the sonic representation of an emotion or feeling might be metaphors (or similes) in nature: sibilance, for example, can feel like the slush or hush of snow-shushed nights, or the stark severe susurrus of stormy winds. But devices of sound work mostly to amplify the effect of a text, not to create it.

That said, literary devices that add richness, depth, and thematic complexity operate similarly to metaphor. A few examples:

Symbolism

A symbol is the concrete expression of an abstract idea. In other words, the author uses an image to represent a concept. A heart, for example, is often a symbol for love; a lightbulb over the head represents an “idea”.

In many ways, symbolism elides the “being statement” quality of metaphor. Instead of saying “an idea is a lightbulb”, I simply represent the idea through the lightbulb.

Symbolism elides the “being statement” quality of metaphor.

When an idea is reified into an image, that image can then take on more qualities or be manipulated to demonstrate an idea. For example, if I use the sea to represent sadness, I have an entire ecosystem of creative possibility at my disposal, ready to use for the purpose of my work. Is sadness salty? Filled with unknown creatures? Does it terraform coastlines? Do people drown in it, or sail into the other side? When is it tranquil; when does it storm? Does it ever freeze over or evaporate?

Yes—if I need it to, yes.

Metonymy

Metonymy is a device in which a part of something is represented through a different part of it. It can operate in a similar way to symbolism. For example, in the phrase “the pen is mightier than the sword,” a pen is a metonym for writing, as a pen is a part of writing; the sword is a metonym for violence.

Sometimes, the whole of something might be represented through a part of it. For example, if I comment on your “nice set of wheels,” I am referring to your car through a part of it—its wheels. This is, more specifically, a synecdoche—which counts as a form of metonymy.

Metonymy is a device in which a part of something is represented through a different part of it. It can operate in a similar way to symbolism.

Do you see the implied comparisons that can happen here? Again, these are not explicitly metaphors. But, if the wheels represent a car, then nice wheels represent nice cars. Conversely, a nice car probably will not have a worn down set of tires (though there’s an interesting tension to explore in that image).

Similarly, representing violence with a sword opens us up to the same creative possibilities as symbolism. What if the sword is gold—does that make violence a tool of the rich? What if the sword is dull and unreflective—does that make violence a means of self-abnegation?

Personification

Personification refers to the attribution of human qualities to nonhuman things.

We do this all the time, really. A cloud moving slowly across the sky might be “walking,” just without human legs. Or, dark clouds congregating might signify an “angry sky,” but we know that the sky does not have emotions (a device called “pathetic fallacy”).

Personification refers to the attribution of human qualities to nonhuman things.

And yet, by lending human attributes to nonhuman things, we are saying, isn’t that thing like a person? Or, aren’t people like that thing? Perhaps this is more a simile in nature than a metaphor, but still, it operates via the art of comparison, an art central to so much creative writing.

Narrative as Metaphor

At a zoomed out level, a story itself can act as a metaphor for the human experience. This is especially true of fables, which are meant to illustrate human truths with wide applications.

Aesop’s “The Tortoise and the Hare,” for example, is best summarized as the idea “slow and steady wins the race.” Careful, methodical work often produces better results than if it were hasty, sloppy, or inconsistent. What can’t that apply to?

Other forms of narrative, such as allegory and satire, operate similarly through means of comparison. Take, for example, George Orwell’s Animal Farm: a farce on the establishment of the USSR and how political leaders obfuscated authoritarian power grabs through egalitarian language. (Orwell is not exactly subtle by making Joseph Stalin a pig.)

A story itself can act as a metaphor for the human experience.

Or, take William Golding’s novel The Lord of the Flies. The novel charts the civic dissolution of a group of upper class British boys stranded on a deserted island. The conflicts in the novel—individuality vs. groupthink, civilization vs. savagery, democracy vs. authoritarianism—are allegories for how governments themselves are formed and dissolved based on the power hunger of its leaders.

Notably, Golding wrote the novel during a period of Brit Lit history in which many novels supported colonization. Golding, meanwhile, wrote his novel to demonstrate what happens when people born into wealth, privilege, and power are confronted with material realities far outside their upbringing. The narrative questions who, exactly, are the savages: the colonized, or the colonizer? The Lord of the Flies is a metaphor for, among other things, the ills of rule-by-elite democracy and the moral trappings of empire.

Put simply: a narrative is the vehicle for the tenor—real life, or at least the human experience of it. 

Learn more about narrative structure here:

https://writers.com/what-is-the-plot-of-a-story

Metaphor Writing Exercises

Ready to try your hand at the metaphor? These three exercises will help you write sharp, polished direct comparisons.

1. Very-Extended Metaphors

To begin this writing exercise, simply come up with two concrete nouns. You will compare one noun to the other, so try to keep your nouns unrelated to each other, so that you come up with more striking language. For example, don’t use “apples and oranges”, but “elephants and statues” will be nicely different from each other.

Once you have two concrete nouns, set a timer for 10 minutes.

When the timer starts, write down all of the ways that Noun 1 can be Noun 2. Just jot your ideas down; don’t try to write anything “polished.” For example, an elephant is a statue because elephants can stand perfectly still, some are creamy white, both elephants and statues pose, etc.

When the timer stops, go over everything you wrote down. Examine the different reasons that Noun 1 is Noun 2, and start weaving sentences together to build an extended metaphor. Let each comparison have its own sentence, building an argument through metaphor. Be visual with your description: show the reader how Noun 1 is the same thing as Noun 2. When you’ve woven these ideas together, you’ll have an extended metaphor, which could become part of a poem or prose piece.

2. Opposites Attract, Metaphorically

For this metaphor exercise, think of two concrete nouns that are either opposites or near-opposites.

For example, “trees” and “factories” can be considered near-opposites. One is natural and produces oxygen, the other is man-made and produces carbon dioxide.

How can a tree be a factory? How can a factory be a tree? These questions are best answered in metaphor.

Write a metaphor using the two opposing nouns you chose, and explain why Noun 1 is Noun 2. The goal is to surprise the reader with a comparison they didn’t expect. This type of writing, when a metaphor joins two unalike or unexpected things, is known as a “conceit.”

3. What’s the Connection?

On a piece of paper, make two lists.

One list should include only concrete nouns. Again, things that can be perceived through the five senses. Write down six concrete nouns.

The other list should be only abstract nouns: ideas, concepts, or things otherwise intuited but not felt with the senses. Any word that ends with -ism, for example, will do—as will feelings, political and economic ideologies, deities, etc. Write down six abstract nouns.

Now, randomly draw a line between an item on each list. You should have six lines, each connecting one item on each list.

How can the concrete noun express the abstract noun? How does an orange become utilitarianism, or how does hatred become a brand new stereo system? Push your creative mind to make metaphors out of the connections you’ve developed on your list.

Make Meaning out of Metaphor at Writers.com

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