My Imageries


My Imageries

My Imageries



Menonim Menonimus



Internet Edition


My Imageries ‘by Menonim Menonimus, Published by




Internet Edition






D.T.P. by A. Shahriar


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In a general sense, the term ‘Imagery’ refers to a mental picture of anything made of words, phrases or sentences. Let us illustrate imagery with the following examples:

1. Sita is a beautiful girl.

2. Sita is as beautiful as a red rose.

Both the above-cited sentences bring mental images or pictures of a beautiful girl named Sita. But the nature of the mental pictures that the sentences bring to our mind is different from each other. The sentence no.1 shows or exhibits Sita as she is. On the other hand, the sentence no. 2 brings the image of Sita with a brief but sensuous illustration of Sita’s beautifulness. In other words, to explain, the beauty of Sita is illustrated by invoking the image of a red rose.

Hence imageries, on the basis of their natures of representation may be of two types as- (1) Ordinary Imagery and (2) Illustrative imagery.

Ordinary Imagery shows or represents a thing as it is. It is only information about a thing. In this sense, every word or sentence with a meaning is an image or imagery. In brief, to say, ordinary Imagery is the thing itself. The aforesaid example no. 1 is an instance of Ordinary Imagery.

On the other hand, Illustrative Imagery is a device through which an object, thought, feeling, idea or any sensory or extra-sensory experience is represented, illustrated, clarified, enriched or intensified by invoking the qualities or characteristics of any other thing to appeal to our senses and emotion which bring a lively picture to our mind. A phrase, an epithet, a metaphor or a simile may create an image. An Illustrative Imagery may be called Poetic Imagery. An Illustrative Imagery has all the attributes (qualities), objectives of poetry, such as-

1. It is a device of illustration, representation, clarification, intensification or enrichment of a thing.

2. It appeals to our sense organs.

3. It arouses our feeling with emotion, and

4. It creates a lively picture. 

In assessing the literary merit of any literary art, only the illustrative or poetic imagery, not ordinary imagery, is taken under consideration.

The Illustrative or Poetic Imagery is often visual; but it can also appeal to other senses such as- (i) the sense of Auditory (Hearing), (ii) gustatory (taste), (iii) Olfactory (smell), (iv) Tactile (touch), (v) Thermal (by which we differentiate between heat and cold) and (vi) Kinesthetic (which is produced by muscular tension or movement).

A list of imageries both-Ordinary and Poetic – has been given below:

The Imagery of Restlessness

Seven hours have left! He paces the narrow limits of his cell with rapid strides, cold drops of terror are visible on his forehead, and every muscle of his frame is quivering with agony. He suffers himself to be led to his seat, mechanically and takes the Bible in his hand, and tries to read it and listen.  No, the book is torn and soiled by use – and the book seems like the book he read at school, just forty years ago!

 The Imagery of terror / Fear

Every gun was now blazing away into the twilight, the regiment somewhat massed together, firing with every available weapon. I crammed the shells into the six-pounder as fast as they could lie and forfeit. The turret was full of fumes and smoke. I coughed and sweated; fear had given place to exhilaration.

My Imageries 

The Imagery of an Unusual Cat

We saw a cat with yellow eyes glowing with red, black fur, a mouth with sharp pointed teeth that stood on the corner of the wooden door and it seemed as if it would yowl like a tiger.

My Imageries

The Imagery of Men and Women at Building Work

The young men and women wore T-shirts and jeans and work pants that morning and the crew had finished sinking rows of one-inch-thick, six-foot-high steel spikes into the hole to serve as the skeleton of the future office building’s parking garage.

My Imageries

The Imagery of a Drunkard

A drunkard was walking homeward unsteadily from a market place at night and saw a red Dodge sedan laying U-turn and then being afraid of thinking it to be a ghost of his deceased friend and fell into trance after giving out a deadly shriek.

My Imageries

The Imagery of a Mountain Scene

High in the mountains north of Assam, India, lies a vast colony ringed by electrified barbed wire and patrolled by guards carrying machine guns. At the local playground, weeds cracked concrete and climb over collapsed rusted swing sets. In the view from the mountain-top, grey peaks rose in the distance, lush green terraces of rice paddies hugged the slopes, a thick tropical jungle covered the valleys, and far, far away, the blue-green lake water washed at the island shore.

My Imageries

The Imagery of a Predatory Bird

The budding maples and birches overhanging the brook are alive with yellow-rumpled warblers darting from twig to twig in a search for early insects. It bears rust-coloured feathers and it weighs about four pounds.

My Imageries

The Imagery of Dressing

The man wore an ash grey Armani coat over a linen shirt, a red silk caravat Windsor-knotted at his throat, an embroidered head gear like a French took a scarf round his neck and walked ahead.

My Imageries

The imagery of Foodstuff

Mushroom and pepperoni sausage formed thick layers on top of one another while the white mozzarella bubbled over the bright potato sauce. Each time they took a bit and tasted the luscious ingredient.

My Imageries

The Imagery of an Old House

The house slouched in a yard choked with weeds, its paint faded and flaking, the lace curtains in its windows yellowed with age.

My Imageries

The Imagery of a Sprightly Girl

The singer looked as if he had just stepped out of stage performance. His hair, twisted into thick dreadlocks, fell almost to his shoulders. On his feet were chunky leather sandals. A small golden ring pierced his left nostril. His hands, clasped around the microphone in front of his chest, were ringed in silver and turquoise. He wore a faded pair of jeans that flared into a wide bell over his ankles. Over his shirt, he wore a soft leather vest that ended at his waist in a beaded fringe. His shirt, open at the neck, revealed a silver and turquoise necklace. He wore a small golden earring on one ear. He looked as though he belonged on a Woodstock poster.

My Imageries

The Imagery of a Fashionable Girl 

The model walking down the runway looked like a movie actress. Her hair curved under just above her shoulders and dipped across one eye as she turned her head. Her eyebrows were arched and pencilled, and her lipstick was a deep red. The jacket of her grey pinstriped suit was padded at the shoulders and nipped in at the waist. Her skirt hugged her hips and legs tightly and flared below the knee. She wore dark stockings with seams up the back, and stiletto heels that looked impossible to walk in. She looked as though she had stepped out of cultural function.

My Imageries

The Imagery of a Canteen’s Foodstuff 

The Canteen is a storehouse of temptation. At Rani’s, a shopper can find loaves of bread and pastries, ethnic delights from a variety of countries, and a selection of candies that would unravel the strongest will. But when it comes to temptation, nothing at Rani’s can rival the produce section. The vegetable bins at Rani’s are a feast for the senses. Row upon row of green, musty-smelling cabbages temptingly hints of cabbage rolls and coleslaw to come. Beyond the green cabbages are bins of the purple, curly-leafed variety, piled like basketballs in a sporting goods store. Next, come potatoes in all shapes and sizes. Large, long Idahos weigh in the hand like a stone and bake up fluffy and dry. The yellow-fleshed Yukon Golds can be sliced into golden medallions and topped with cheese. Farther along the aisle, carrots beckon like slender fingers and plump squash nestle comfortably in neat bins. At the end of the aisle, mountains of waxy purple egg-plant lie in the lush array. The vegetable bins at Rani’s provide a feast for the eyes as well as for the taste buds. Beyond the vegetables lie the fruits in a patchwork of geographic and seasonal variety. Bananas, pineapples, mangoes, and limes flaunt tropical hues. Their exotic aromas hint of balmy breezes, marimba bands, and sweet summer nights. Across the aisle, the season is fall. Apples, crisp as a New England day, stir the air with the fragrance of autumn. Their red and yellow colours and even their names—Crispin, Pippin, Granny Smith, Ginger Gold—suggest brisk autumn days, the crunch of leaves underfoot, and a cosy hearth. Farther on, yellow grapefruit, bright as the California sun, suggests a return to summer. Beside them, giant navel oranges add a hint of citrus to the air. In this section of Rani’s, time and place blend in a fruit-basket turnover. For customers who can’t wait until they are out of the store to sample the delights of Rani’s fruits and vegetables, the juice bar offers instant gratification. Thirsty shoppers can drink in the tartness of a California grapefruit or taste the sweetness of freshly squeezed orange juice. 

For something different, customers can sample apricot juice in hues of rich dusky amber or exotic papaya flavoured with coconut milk. Vegetable lovers can sip a cool, pale celery drink, rich red tomato juice, or carrot juice so brightly orange that many shoppers swear their eyesight improves just by looking at it. There’s no better way to end a trip through Harry’s produce department than by drinking it in. Grocery shopping can be a chore, but at Rani’s, it is more often a delight. A trip through the produce department is a tempting tour through a garden where every vegetable is in season and no fruit is forbidden. 0 0 0

My Imageries

The Imagery of an Alehouse

I hear a rising laugh, as notes played on a piano, as I approach the doorway marked “Little Grocery.” By day, the Little Grocery sold milk, bread, cereal, and cigarettes—the stuff of everyday life. At night, under a pungent haze of smoke, the jukebox played “Slip Away” or “Mr Big Stuff” to the clink of bottles of illegal liquor. But I am not worried about a police raid, The setting, the music, and the life-size figures are nostalgic reminders of an earlier era. As I enter the doorway, I step into a setting from the past. The sawdust-covered floor leads to an old-fashioned glass-topped counter. On the counter, beside a gallon jar of pickled pig’s feet, sits an empty bottle labelled “Sun-Drop Golden Cola—As Refreshing as a Cup of Coffee.” Behind the glass are old-fashioned bottles of White Rain shampoo and a half-filled box of individually wrapped Moon Pies. To the left of the counter, a sawdust trail leads to a large yellow cooler emblazoned with the words “Kingly Cola” in red. Above the cooler, a rectangular metal sign advertises “Wills Cigarettes—filtered with the finest flavour.” Besides the cooler sits a jukebox. The old-fashioned jukebox pulses with light and music. I walk toward it, passing a tall thin figure whose upraised fingers, the colour of mahogany, look as though they are holding an invisible harmonica. As I move closer, I can make out the name “Wins” on the front of the jukebox. I look at the selections. I hear the machine clicking through the selections, and more music fills the air. The artist has also brought the past to life with re-creations of the people who danced, drank, and laughed in his father’s juke joint. Beside me, a slim, chocolate-coloured figure in jeans dances with outstretched arms, her head a mass of pink curlers. Across from the jukebox, a sad-looking figure of a man with a goitre sits on an old church pew, his hat resting on his knee, his tie undone. Beside him, a female figure, lit cigarette clenched between her lips. Her polyester pantsuit is pink and glittery, her blouse rosy with a blue spot. Stockings are knotted under her knobby knees. Despite her shabby attire, her bearing is formal and prim. As I look more closely, I see that her tight, pressed curls are created with round seed pods. A long-haired figure of a woman in harlequin glasses stands against the wall, her short skirt hiked around her hips. Her lover, a light-skinned, impassioned-looking male figure, stretches out his hand as if to reach under her skirt. Feeling like an intruder, I back away. As I leave, I notice the male’s pants, unbuckled and falling below slim hips. As I leave the exhibit, I hear again the rising laughter. It comes from a small group of students touring the museum. Yet it seems to me to echo the laughter that once floated above the haze of cigarette smoke in the Little Grocery. 0 0 0 

My Imageries

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I am Menonim Menonimus, a Philosopher & Writer.


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