Exploring the Power of Metaphors for Creative Writers

This week on Prompted! we're going to explore one of my favorite topics in writing: metaphors.

Metaphors are an essential tool for any writer looking to add depth, emotion, and create vivid descriptions that bring our stories to life.

But what exactly is a metaphor?

At its core, a metaphor is a comparison between two unlike things. For example, when we say "he's a lion on the battlefield," we're not saying he's literally a lion, but rather that he possesses some of the same qualities we associate with lions – courage, strength, and ferocity. Metaphors help us convey complex ideas in a way that's both elegant and memorable.

In this episode, we'll be diving deep into the world of metaphors, exploring how they're used in poetry, fiction, and even everyday language.

My goal is not only to educate you on the basics of metaphors but also to inspire you to experiment with using them in your own writing.

Whether you're a seasoned author or just starting out, I believe that metaphors have the power to transform your writing and connect with your readers on a deeper level.

The Power of Metaphors

Now that we’ve got a basic understanding of what a metaphor is, let’s take a closer look at the different ways they show up in our writing—and why they’re such powerful little shape-shifters.

One of the most common types is the direct metaphor. This is where we clearly state that one thing is another.

“He’s a lion on the battlefield.”
Simple, right? It creates an immediate image. We don’t need a whole paragraph to explain what he’s like—we feel it in one line. That’s the magic of a well-placed metaphor: it distills a big idea into something sharp and vivid.

Then we’ve got the implied metaphor. This one’s a bit sneakier. Instead of stating the comparison outright, it hints at it through action or description.

“She barked orders at her team.”
There’s no dog mentioned, but you can hear it, right? The tone, the sharpness, the command—it’s all packed into that single word barked.

And then there’s one of my favorites: the extended metaphor. This is when you take a metaphor and stretch it out across a few lines, maybe even an entire scene or story.

Let’s say you describe grief as the ocean:

“It pulls you under when you least expect it. Some days, you’re floating. Some days, you’re drowning.”
This kind of metaphor invites your reader to sit in the feeling, not just glimpse it. It’s immersive. Emotional. It sticks.

Now, sometimes people talk about “literal metaphors,” and I want to pause on that real quick—because it's a little misleading. If it’s literal, it’s not a metaphor anymore. Metaphors are figurative by definition. That’s what gives them their power. They make the abstract feel concrete.

So when we say,

“The city is a beast,”
we don’t mean the city is covered in fur and fangs. But we do mean it’s wild. Unpredictable. Maybe dangerous, maybe beautiful, maybe both.

Metaphors help us move beyond surface-level description. Instead of saying “she’s sad,” we might write,

“She wore sorrow like a second skin.”
Now the emotion isn’t just stated—it’s embodied. We can see it. Maybe even feel it.

And that’s why metaphors matter. They’re not just stylistic flourishes. They’re bridges. Between writer and reader. Between feeling and understanding.

They can say what plain language can’t. They invite the reader to make a leap with us. And when they land just right, they stay with us long after the page.

Metaphors in Storytelling

So now that we’ve looked at the power of metaphors and how they work, let’s talk about where they really come alive—in storytelling.

Metaphors aren't just a line here or there to spice things up. In stories, they can do some serious heavy lifting. They can shape characters. Reinforce themes. Even become the silent architecture behind an entire plot.

Let’s start with characters.

When we say something like,

“She was a ticking clock in a quiet room,”
we’re not just giving a poetic description—we’re telling you something vital about who she is. She’s on edge. Maybe dangerous. Maybe just deeply anxious. That metaphor wraps her whole energy in one image—and it sets the tone for every scene she’s in.

A good metaphor doesn’t just decorate a moment. It deepens it.

You’ll see this a lot in character arcs too. Think about transformation stories. You might start with a character described as

“a ghost in their own life,”
and by the end, they’re
“a wildfire finally burning through the silence.”

Neither image is literal—but taken together, they chart emotional growth in a way that feels real. And often, you can track a story’s emotional core just by looking at how the metaphors evolve.

Then there’s theme.

Some stories use central metaphors that echo again and again. Like a thread running through the entire piece.

Maybe a story about isolation uses cold imagery:

“His words were frost. Her silences, ice.”
Then later, when connection happens:
“She thawed in the sun of his kindness.”

It’s not just pretty language—it’s emotional storytelling. That kind of metaphor becomes the heartbeat of the narrative.

And sometimes, metaphors even sneak into the structure.

Say you’re telling a story where time loops back on itself. The metaphor might be a spiral. A snake eating its tail. The ocean tide. You might not ever say it outright, but it can influence how the scenes unfold—how the reader feels the rhythm of the story.

So when you're writing fiction, metaphors aren't just useful—they're transformative. They help you say more with less. They create resonance, emotional impact, and cohesion. And when they land well, they linger—long after the story ends.

Metaphors in Poetry

In poetry, metaphors take center stage. They’re not just there to clarify—they're there to evoke. To suggest. To surprise. Sometimes even to confuse in just the right way.

Take a poem that opens with:

“Grief is a house with no doors.”
Immediately, we’re inside it. Trapped. Still. Echoing. That metaphor does more than describe grief—it becomes it.

And poetry doesn’t shy away from strange or surreal metaphors either. In fact, it thrives on them.

“My thoughts are birds drunk on wind.”
You don’t have to know exactly what that means to feel it. Poetry trusts the reader to meet the metaphor halfway. It invites interpretation.

And that’s the beauty of it: metaphors in poetry are less about precision and more about resonance. They don’t always define a feeling—they approximate it. They circle around it. They let the reader get there emotionally, even if the logic is a little slippery.

Sometimes poets will build entire pieces around a single metaphor. That’s when you get something like an extended metaphor that never lets go—like a love poem that compares the relationship to a decaying orchard, or a breakup described as the unraveling of a red sweater.

Everything in the poem serves that central image. The setting. The rhythm. The diction.

It’s like putting the whole piece inside a metaphor-shaped container and letting the idea expand to fill every corner.

And honestly? Sometimes the best metaphors are the ones that don’t feel perfect. The ones that leave a little gap—where the reader has to step in and make the connection for themselves. That little leap, that moment of “Oh…”—that’s where the emotional punch hits.

So whether your poem is sharp and structured or loose and wild, a metaphor is one of the best tools you have to carve depth into your lines. To make the intangible, felt.

So, to bring this all together

Metaphors aren’t just a writer’s flourish or a poetic trick. They’re how we make sense of the world. How we give shape to the unspoken. Whether you're writing fiction, poetry, or even just journaling your thoughts—metaphors help us get closer to the truth of a thing, not by explaining it, but by showing it through something else.

They let us say “this is like that”—and in doing so, invite the reader to feel something real.

From the battlefield lions to the grief-shaped houses, to cities turned into beasts and time bent into spirals, metaphors allow us to cross the distance between emotion and understanding. They connect us. They stay with us.

And more than anything—they give us permission to be bold. To be strange. To lean into imagery that doesn’t always make literal sense, but makes emotional sense.

Whether you're just starting out, or you’ve been writing for years, keep experimenting with metaphor. Let your language wander. Let your comparisons surprise even you. That’s where the good stuff lives.

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