What does the wind look like? Take the 12 simile challenge.

Complete these similes. Try to be surprising and compelling. I got them from Now Write, a book of writing exercises edited by Sherry Ellis which I really like. It doesn’t quite fit with our current workshop format, but I think it is worth trying out.

The morning sun tastes like…

Her voice smelled like…

The music sounded heavy as…

The color green feels like…

The color red tastes like…

Midnight rain is bitter as…

The wind looks as _______ as…

Seeing him walk was like hearing…

Tasting the night’s dinner was like watching…

Hearing her cry was like tasting…

Smelling the gasoline was like touching…

Touching her dying father’s hand was like seeing…

Advertisements
This entry was posted in new perspectives, writing prompts and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to What does the wind look like? Take the 12 simile challenge.

  1. A. Taylor says:

    The morning sun tastes like stale sweat and fresh toast.

    Her voice smelled like cinnamon.

    The music sounded heavy as the storm.

    The color green feels like the color purple.

    The color red tastes like falling in love.

    Midnight rain is bitter as memory.

    The wind looks as evil as my ex-husband.

    Seeing him walk was like hearing her heart break all over again.

    Tasting the night’s dinner was like watching dreams die.

    Hearing her cry was like tasting victory.

    Smelling the gasoline was like touching the soul of the universe.

    Touching her dying father’s hand was like seeing a light flicker on, then off.

  2. Alice says:

    The morning sun tastes like honey and dewdrops.
    Her voice smelled like grape jelly spread out on a piece of toast.
    The music sounded heavy as the invisible weight on his shoulders.
    The color green feels like a rainstorm in the middle of spring.
    The color red tastes like a heated argument.
    Midnight rain is bitter as black coffee and a sweet as an accompanying pastry.
    The wind looks as sad as homeless kitten.
    Seeing him walk was like hearing a cup of hot tea smash against perfectly good wallpaper.
    Tasting the night’s dinner was like watching a rainbow burn from both ends.
    Hearing her cry was like tasting milk after a spoonful of cranberries.
    Smelling the gasoline was like touching hot end of a fireplace poker.
    Touching her dying father’s hand was like seeing little glimpses of a heaven long gone.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s