“Introduction to Poetry” by Billy Collins I ask them to take a poem and hold it up to the light like a color slide or press an ear against its hive. I say drop a mouse into a poem and watch him probe his way out, or walk inside the poem’s room and feel the walls for a light switch. I want them to waterski across the surface of a poem waving at the author's name on the shore. But all they want to do is tie the poem to a chair with rope and torture a confession out of it. They begin beating it with a hose to find out what it really means.

Step 1 Read it aloud once. What is the title? What does it have to do with the poem? Who is the speaker? How do I know? What is the gist of the poem? What is the main idea of each stanza or section? What is the overall feeling or mood? Does it change anywhere? What is my first impression of the theme (or statement or observation the poem is making about the world or the human condition)?

Step 2 Read it aloud again. While reading, underline anything that “pulls” you. What words stick out to me? How do they contribute to the mood? What poetic tools does the author use? What figurative language can I identify? How does each technique contribute to meaning? What is emphasized through structure? Why? What is emphasized through repetition? Why is this repeated? Are there any patterns? Rhyme? Rhythm? When are they broken? How does sound create mood? Why?

Step 3 Read it aloud once. What is the overall theme? How do the sound, words, and shape of this poem work together to create meaning?

“The Negro Speaks of Rivers” by Langston Hughes I’ve known rivers: I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of human blood in human veins. My soul has grown deep like the rivers. I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young. I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep. I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it. I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln went down to New Orleans, and I’ve seen its muddy bosom turn all golden in the sunset. I’ve known rivers: Ancient, dusky rivers. My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

If We Must Die Claude McKay If we must die, let it not be like hogs Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot, While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs, Making their mock at our accursèd lot. If we must die, O let us nobly die, So that our precious blood may not be shed In vain; then even the monsters we defy Shall be constrained to honor us though dead! O kinsmen! we must meet the common foe! Though far outnumbered let us show us brave, And for their thousand blows deal one death-blow! What though before us lies the open grave? Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack, Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!

slaveships Lucille Clifton loaded like spoons into the belly of Jesus where we lay for weeks for months in the sweat and stink of our own breathing Jesus why do you not protect us chained to the heart of the Angel where the prayers we never tell are hot and red as our bloody ankles Jesus Angel can these be men who vomit us out from ships called Jesus Angel Grace of God onto a heathen country Jesus Angel ever again can this tongue speak can this bone walk Grace of God can this sin live

Black Woman Georgia Douglas Johnson Don’t knock at the door, little child, I cannot let you in, You know not what a world this is Of cruelty and sin. Wait in the still eternity Until I come to you, The world is cruel, cruel, child, I cannot let you in! Don’t knock at my heart, little one, I cannot bear the pain Of turning deaf-ear to your call Time and time again! You do not know the monster men Inhabiting the earth, Be still, be still, my precious child, I must not give you birth!