Certain types of similes and metaphors come up over and over in literature, poetry, pop songs, and the visual arts. Most lend themselves just as easily to larger uses like symbolism theme-ish stuff. Last time, I listed some of the most common – metaphors which are probably obvious to most of us, but which nevertheless manage to remain elusive for far too many of my students. Today, we’ll look at a few easy examples suitable for the classroom.

As with other literary devices, my examples are heavy on popular music because it tends to be so much more accessible than the legit stuff we keep hoping they’ll learn to appreciate. It’s not essential that students know or like the songs you choose, but it’s nice when that works out from time to time.

From “Here Comes The Sun” by the Beatles:

Little darlin’, it’s been a long cold lonely winter – little darlin’, it feels like years since it’s been here

Here comes the sun – here comes the sun – and I say, it’s alright

Little darlin’, the smiles returning to their faces – little darling, it seems like years since it’s been here

Here comes the sun – here comes the sun – and I say, it’s alright…

Little darlin’, I feel that ice is slowly melting – little darlin’, it seems like years since it’s been clear

Here comes the sun – here comes the sun – and I say, it’s alright

Let’s start with the obvious – these lines work just fine on a strictly literal level. Maybe the author just really likes the spring. It’s a much richer piece, however, if we read it as a song of hope – of coming through difficult times and feeling better about the future as a result.

Here’s another fairly light example from “Singing in the Rain” (a tune which predates the movie by 20+ years):

I’m singing in the rain, just singing in the rain – what a glorious feeling – I’m happy again

I’m laughing at clouds, so dark up above – the sun’s in my heart and I’m ready for love

Let the stormy clouds chase everyone from the place – come on with the rain, I’ve a smile on my face

I walk down the lane with a happy refrain – just singing, I’m singing in the rain

Why am I smiling and why do I sing? Why does September seem sunny as spring?

Why do I get up each morning and start? Happy and head up with joy in my heart

Why is each new task a trifle to do? Because I am living a life full of you.

In the film, Gene Kelly quite literally sings this song in the rain – so there’s that. The lyrics are clearly intended to work on a metaphorical level as well – “the sun’s in my heart” and “September seem[ing] sunny as spring” and such. (Nice alliteration in that second line, by the way.)

Examples of spring as a new beginning or the sun coming out after the rain suggesting hope or joy are pretty much infinite – “Mr. Blue Sky” (E.L.O.), “I Can See Clearly Now” (Johnny Nash), “You Are My Sunshine” (most famously covered by Johnny Cash), “Daybreak” (Barry Manilow – who I’m including mostly just to see who’s paying attention), “Beautiful Day” (U2), “Unwritten” (Natasha Beddingfield  – this one also has a nice window metaphor in the mix), or even “Ain’t No Sunshine” (Bill Withers, with a little reverse on the theme).

The other seasons are important in much great literature and poetry, but less common in popular music. Darkness, on the other hand, comes up quite a bit – especially for artists who want to sound, well… dark. If you’re not sure where to start, consider “The Dark Side” (Muse), “Darkside” (Blink-182 – this one has thinly veiled drug references), “Beware of Darkness” (George Harrison), or “In the Dark” (Billy Squier – although there’s some sexual innuendo near the end).

Depending on your audience, darkness and night help communicate the trauma of abuse as well. In the musical “Spring Awakening,” Martha reveals her experience to her friends in “The Dark I Know Well”:

I don’t scream though I know it’s wrong – I just play along

I lie there and breathe – like there and breathe…

There is a part I can’t tell about the dark I know well

There is a part I can’t tell about the dark I know well

“In the Night” by Weekend addresses similar abuse in slightly more elusive terms, and I suspect there are at least a dozen other examples out there for anyone who chooses to look. In most cases, the darkness and night are probably both literal and metaphorical. While I wouldn’t include such a triggering topic on any worksheets or PowerPoint presentations, it nevertheless demonstrates how effectively figurative language can capture negative experiences and emotions as well as it does happy, optimistic stuff.

Seasons other than spring are less commonly referenced in popular music, but that doesn’t mean they’re never used at all. Here’s an excerpt from “Winter Song” by Ingrid Michaelson and Sara Bareilles:

This is my winter song to you – the storm is coming soon – it rolls in from the sea

My voice, a beacon in the night – my words will be your light – to carry you to me

Is love alive? Is love alive?

They say that things just cannot grow beneath the winter snow – or so I have been told…

I still believe in summer days – the seasons always change – and life will find a way

I’ll be your harvester of light and send it out tonight so we can start again

Is love alive? Is love alive? …

The storm is coming soon – it rolls in from the sea

My love a beacon in the night – my words will be your light

My love a beacon in the night – my words will be your light to carry you to me

Is love alive? Is love alive?

Nothing overly complex here, but they get in winter and summer and the changing of seasons and light and storms and OMG what a cornucopia of metaphorical staples!

In “I Hit the Brakes,” Admiral Twin uses a basic driving metaphor to explore a relationship in which two people seem to be wanting very different things:

I should have known by the look on your face when you climbed in the car where you wanted to go

Rumors I’d heard, no longer ignored – you opened your mouth, but before you could speak

I said no, I really don’t think I want to know – I really don’t think I want to go that far now

Let’s just stay right where we are now – leave well enough alone

I squint at the road but I can still see windshield reflections; you’re staring at me

You’ve something to say that I don’t want to hear, and it gets hard to drive when I’m covering my ears

So I say no, I really don’t think I want to know – I really don’t think I want to go that far down

I’d rather stay uninvolved now

These fevered confessions frighten me, and though you’re my friend

I swear if you don’t stop soon it’s a long walk home again

You just won’t quit – what made you believe I wanted to hear the secrets you keep?

Now I see what it takes – your head hits the windshield when I hit the brakes

’Cause I said no, I really don’t think I want to know – I really don’t think I want to go that far now…

You’ve gotten me involved now – now look what you’ve done

It would be easy to get bogged down in the distinction between metaphor or symbolism here, but the important thing is how the writer combines the familiar terrain of a car ride (including the terrifying implications of a head hitting the windshield) with the complexities of human relationships. We’re left unable to say for certain whether the issue is primarily about the passenger (“I don’t feel that way about you”) or the driver (“I’m terrified of intimacy or commitment”), but we certainly feel the intensity by the time it’s through.

The musical “Dear Evan Hansen” loves playing with symbols and at least one idiom (the protagonist, Evan Hansen, literally falls out of a tree in the forest and no one hears him or cares). Evan’s struggles are expressed in “Waving Through A Window,” which utilizes several common metaphors – but in interesting, thought-provoking ways:

I’ve learned to slam on the brake before I even turn the key

Before I make the mistake – before I lead with the worst of me…

Step out, step out of the sun if you keep getting burned

Step out, step out of the sun – because you’ve learned, because you’ve learned

On the outside, always looking in – will I ever be more than I’ve always been?

’Cause I’m tap-tap-tapping on the glass – I’m waving through a window

I try to speak, but nobody can hear – so I wait around for an answer to appear

While I’m watch-watch-watching people pass – I’m waving through a window

Before we get to “tap-tap-tapping on the glass,” notice the simple car metaphor in the first line. The absurdity of hitting the breaks before starting the car brings powerful pathos to Evan’s isolation and fear of rejection. If we couldn’t fully relate before, that line alone ought to do the trick.

Next comes the sun – in this case acting both as illumination (“because you’ve learned”) and pain (“you keep getting burned”). At first glance, this contrasts with his complaint that “I try to speak, but nobody can hear”; as it turns out, even Evan’s insecurities are jumbled and contradictory. In that sense, he’s just like most of us.

The strongest metaphor throughout, however, is the window on which he’s “tap-tap-tapping.” Not only is it repeated in various forms throughout the song, it’s emphasized through alliteration (“watch-watch-watching people pass” and “waving through a window”), repetition (“watch-watch-watching” and “tap-tap-tapping”) and onomatopoeia (the “tapping”). In this case, the window metaphor emphasizes the singer’s sense of isolation from the rest of the world –  “on the outside, always looking in.”

While it’s not obvious from this song alone, the window also represents the various screens through which we utilize social media. The staging of the show utilizes multiple cell phone and laptop-shaped screens with scrolling posts and endless notification noises. Many of Evan’s interactions with others occur via his laptop or other devices, further emphasizing his sense of distance and isolation, even when he’s actively communicating. As he learns to open up (instead of waiting on the rest of the world to let him in), we see more face-to-face interactions. Throughout the play, online communication is primarily used when shaping false narratives or identities. Conversely, while not every face-to-face relationship is honest,  every honest relationship moment we see occurs face-to-face – not “through a window.”

I know, right?! ISN’T FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE JUST THE BEST?!?

When you’re falling in a forest and there’s nobody around, do you ever really crash or even make a sound?

When you’re falling in a forest and there’s nobody around, do you ever really crash or even make a sound?

Did I even make a sound? Did I even make a sound? It’s like I never made a sound. Will I ever make a sound?

It’s hard to imagine a more resonant expression of our universal need to feel “heard.” As I’ve harped on with other literary devices, it’s fine if we want to take a moment to discuss the “falling in a forest” reference and whether it’s an idiom or a metaphor or symbolism or a future injunctive appositive, but never at the expense of exploring what it means, and suggests.

We study literary devices to make us better readers, listeners, writers, and speakers – not to make us better categorizers of literary devices. Even the most common metaphors and symbols – light and dark, weather, the seasons, doors and windows, cars and roads, etc. – can be used in fresh, interesting ways. In turn, they can bring depth or different perspectives to thoughts, feelings, and situations which are both unique and universal.

That’s the power of language.