"He leaped upon the rail and balanced himself there, to get greater elevation; his pipe, striking a rope, was knocked from his mouth. He lunged for it; a short, hoarse cry came from his lips as he realized he had reached too far and had lost his balance. The cry was pinched off short as the blood-warm waters of the Caribbean Sea closed over his head." This picturesque illustration from Richard Connell’s ‘The Most Dangerous Game’ is nothing short of a visual treat for the senses. This is the power of imagery, the ability of the senses to perceive the literal world as real. Imagery has always featured as the most favorite tool of writers and poets who used elaborate descriptions and evocative language to churn up a sensory ride. Imagery can be visual, auditory, olfactory, gustatory or tactile, which means a power packed punch for the human senses. Here is a list of impressive imageries for you. Just surf through these examples and storm up a mental rage.
Examples Of Imagery
The taste of that first defeat was bitter indeed.
He fumed and charged like an angry bull.
The eerie silence was shattered by her scream.
The crimson liquid spilled from the neck of the white dove, staining and matting its pure, white feathers.
He could hear his world crashing down when he heard the news about her.
He fell down like an old tree falling down in a storm.
After that first sale, his cash register never stopped ringing.
The sky looked like the untouched canvas of an artist.
The music coursed through us, shaking our bodies as if it came from within us.
The spongy soufflé was a pleasure to squeeze.
She was like a melody in flesh and blood.
Her blue eyes were as bright as the Sun, blue as the sky, but soft as silk.
He could never escape from the iron grip of desire.
The word spread like leaves in a storm.
The lake was left shivering by the touch of morning wind.
They fought like cats and dogs.
He lost his voice in the cacophony of conformity.
Though I was on the sheer face of a mountain, the feeling of swinging through the air was euphoric, almost like flying without wings.
Her face blossomed when she caught a glance of him.
He could hear the footsteps of doom nearing.
The ants began their daily marching drill.
She was like a breath of fresh air infusing life back into him.
The winter evening settles down
With smell of steaks in passageways.
The burnt-out ends of smoky days.
And now a gusty shower wraps
The grimy scraps
Of withered leaves about your feet
And newspapers from vacant lots;
The showers beat
On broken blinds and chimney-pots,
And at the corner of the street
A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.
And then the lighting of the lamps.
- T.S Eliot (Prelude)
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,
Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,
O thou,Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed
The wingèd seeds, where they lie cold and low,
Each like a corpse within its grave,until
Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow
Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill
(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)
With living hues and odours plain and hill:
Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and Preserver; hear, O hear!
- P. B. Shelley ( Ode To The West Wind)