How to Review a Poem In addition to writing a personal review (what you like, what you don’t like), do your best to summarize, explain, or interpret the meaning of each of the poems. Think about the poems in terms of what the writer did to produce the poem. What techniques did the author use? What do you notice about these poems? Write down as much as you can about the form, structure, rhyme, rhythm, word choice or any literary devices you are aware of.

Questions You Can Ask Yourself Read through the poem once. What emotion or feeling do you think the author is trying to convey? What does the author do well in this poem? Point out word choice, imagery, or a specific line you think works well. What can the author do to improve this poem? Do you find anything unclear or confusing?

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

In a Station at the Metro The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black, bough.

The Red Wheelbarrow so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain water beside the white chickens

We Real Cool We real cool. We Left school. We Lurk late. We Strike straight. We Sing sin. We Thin gin. We Jazz June. We Die soon.

Metaphors I’m a riddle in nine syllables, An elephant, a ponderous house, A melon strolling on two tendrils. O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers! This loaf’s big with its yeasty rising. Money’s new-minted in this fat purse. I’m a means, a stage, a cow in calf. I’ve eaten a bag of green apples, Boarded the train there’s no getting off.

The Eagle He clasps the crag with crooked hands; Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ringed with the azure world he stands. The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; He watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he falls.

Try Sensory Poetry Sight Sound Feel Taste Smell You’re evoking emotions and reactions!

Does Your Poem Have… A title? A perspective? A voice? A subject? A tone? A structure? A purpose? Descriptors?