The Red Wheelbarrow
BY WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
BY ROBERT FROST
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
The Tiger BY WILLIAM BLAKE
What the hammer? what the chain?
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright In what furnace was thy brain?
In the forests of the night, What the anvil? what dread grasp
What immortal hand or eye Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
When the stars threw down their spears,
In what distant deeps or skies And watered heaven with their tears,
Burnt the fire of thine eyes? Did he smile his work to see?
On what wings dare he aspire? Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
And what shoulder, and what art, In the forests of the night,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart? What immortal hand or eye
And when thy heart began to beat, Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
What dread hand? and what dread feet?
dog
BY VALERIE WORTH
Under a maple tree
The dog lies down,
Lolls his limp
Tongue, yawns,
Rests his long chin
Carefully between
Front paws;
Looks up, alert;
Chops, with heavy
Jaws, at a slow fly,
Blinks, rolls
On his side,
Sighs, closes
His eyes: sleeps
All afternoon
In his loose skin.
The Pasture
BY ROBERT FROST
I'm going out to clean the pasture spring;
I'll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I sha'n't be gone long.--You come too.
I'm going out to fetch the little calf
That's standing by the mother. It's so young,
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I sha'n't be gone long.--You come too.
Street Music
BY ARNOLD ADOFF
T h i s c i t y: orchestra
the of rolling drums
always and battle blasts
noise assaulting
grinding my ears
up from the with
subways the
under always
g r o u n d: n o i s e of
slamming from bus tires t h i s c i t y:
and taxi horns and engines
of cars and trucks in all street music.
vocabularies
of
clas
flash
screeching
hot metal l a n g u a g e
c o m b i n a t i o n s:
as p l a n e s
overhead
roar
an
The Apple
BY S. C. RIGG
s
t
e
m
apple apple apple apple
apple yum apple yum apple yum apple
juicy juicy juicy juicy juicy juicy juicy juicy juicy
crunchy crunchy crunchy crunchy crunchy crunchy
red yellow green red yellow green red yellow green red
apple apple apple apple apple apple apple apple apple apple
apple apple apple apple apple apple apple apple apple apple
yum delicious yum delicious yum delicious yum delicious yum
yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum
yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum
yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum
yum yum yum yum yum yum wormy worm yuk yuk yum yum
yum yum yum yum yum yum wormy worm yuk yuk yum yum
yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum yum
yum delicious yum delicious yum delicious yum delicious
apple apple apple apple apple apple apple apple apple
apple apple apple apple apple apple apple apple
apple apple apple apple apple apple apple
red yellow green red yellow green red
crunchy crunchy crunchy crunchy
juicy juicy juicy juicy
apple apple
Love That Boy
BY WALTER DEAN MYERS
Love that boy,
like a rabbit loves to run His mama like to hold him,
I said I love that boy Like to feed him cherry pie.
like a rabbit loves to run I said his mama like to hold him.
Love to call him in the morning Like to feed him that cherry pie.
love to call him She can have him now,
"Hey there, son!" I’ll get him by and by
He walk like his Grandpa, He got long roads to walk down
Grins like his Uncle Ben. Before the setting sun.
I said he walk like his Grandpa, I said he got a long, long road to walk down
And grins like his Uncle Ben. Before the setting sun.
Grins when he’s happy, He’ll be a long stride walker,
When he sad, he grins again. And a good man before he done.
EXPLANATION: "The Red Wheelbarrow"
Lines 1-2
The opening lines set the tone for the rest of the poem. Since the poem is composed of one sentence broken up at various intervals, it
is truthful to say that "so much depends upon" each line of the poem. This is so because the form of the poem is also its meaning. This
may seem confusing, but by the end of the poem the image of the wheelbarrow is seen as the actual poem, as in a painting when one
sees an image of an apple, the apple represents an actual object in reality, but since it is part of a painting the apple also becomes the
actual piece of art. These lines are also important because they introduce the idea that "so much depends upon" the wheelbarrow.
Lines 3-4
Here the image of the wheelbarrow is introduced starkly. The vivid word "red" lights up the scene. Notice that the monosyllable words
in line 3 elongates the line , putting an unusual pause between the word "wheel" and "barrow." This has the effect of breaking the
image down to its most basic parts. The reader feels as though he or she were scrutinizing each part of the scene. Using the sentence as
a painter uses line and color, Williams breaks up the words in order to see the object more closely.
Lines 5-6
Again, the monosyllable words elongate the lines with the help of the literary device assonance. Here the word "glazed" evokes
another painterly image. Just as the reader is beginning to notice the wheelbarrow through a closer perspective, the rain transforms it
as well, giving it a newer, fresher look. This new vision of the image is what Williams is aiming for.
Lines 7-8
The last lines offer up the final brushstroke to this "still life" poem. Another color, "white" is used to contrast the earlier "red," and the
unusual view of the ordinary wheelbarrow is complete. Williams, in dissecting the image of the wheelbarrow, has also transformed the
common definition of a poem. With careful word choice, attention to language, and unusual stanza breaks Williams has turned an
ordinary sentence into poetry.
Source: Exploring Poetry, Gale. © Gale Group Inc. 2001. Online Source.
