1. An author brings words to a page, but he’s not necessarily the speaker of the poem, the I of the poem, who the poem is about. The speaker can be a fictional character the author has made up, like the narrator of a novel. And even if the poem is not written in the first person (I, me, we, our), there is still a speaker, a voice talking. The poem may be written in the second person (you, your) – here the speaker is like the writer of a letter. Who is the speaker talking to? Or a poem may be written in the third person: she, her, they. Or no person – the poem appears not to have a speaker. Consider the familiar corner Stop Sign. Who’s the speaker? Who’s the intended audience? White letters on a red background. Why red? Is the Stop Sign a poem? If we don’t ask questions of the obvious, we’ll soon have trouble reading poetry.
2. A poem, even if published in a so-called reputable and credible publication, is not necessarily a good poem (Joyce Kilmore’s “Trees”, for example, first appeared in Poetry Magazine in 1913). Don’t sweat it. But a poem might be considered good if it achieves its purpose, and maybe it’s the poem’s purpose that seems bad. There are many different kinds of poetry and poets. You don’t owe them anything. Like music, art and architecture, TV shows and movies – there are wheels within wheels that bring them to our attention, and while we might enjoy one type, we might want to avoid others. But your likes and dislikes don’t determine the worth or value of a song, a movie, a house, a photograph, a poem. Don’t ask if the poem is good or bad. Ask if the poem achieves its purpose. What is the poem’s purpose? To make you laugh, cry, shout, run and hide, feel guilty, happy, or sad? To inform or disinform? To instruct or deconstruct? To sing and dance, to perform? To protest? To affirm? To question?
3. Poets are like the Easter Bunny. They like to color and hide eggs. Reading a poem is like going on an Easter egg hunt. Take a dictionary along to hold the eggs you find. How many eggs are in your basket? But some poets are too good at hiding their eggs, and you don’t find any. Inside each egg is a secret.
4. What appeals are made to your senses? Do you know what things smell like? Are the rushes of sound given names? Is there something there too fearful to touch? Can you taste the words when you chew them? Can you see what’s being described as if within your very eyes?
5. Consider the layout of the letters and words. What’s the shape, the blueprint, the design? How many words and how many lines? Count them and write the numbers down. Any repetitions? How many syllables in each line? Are there patterns? Stepping stones? A path? Is this poem a rocky mountain to climb or a grassy hill to slide down? A wave to ride? An updraft to cruise?
6. Is the poem serious or joking or sarcastic, maudlin or lugubrious, childish or elderly, obscure or everyday, difficult or easy? Is something being taken too seriously? Is no one listening? Is it hokey? Is the poem long, short, fat, skinny, bony, chewy, sinewy?
7. Where is the speaker? At home, work, asleep? In the country, city, at the ballpark? In a church, a mall, about to jump off a pier? On a bus, in a rush, at home or far far away? In a classroom, at the front behind a podium? Or at a desk somewhere down one of the aisles. Standing in a pulpit? Sitting on a stool at the tavern? At home cooking dinner? Walking in a garden? In a garage, basement, or attic? On a mountain top, in a cave, walking on a beach. Is the time of day morning, noon, or night? The season spring, summer, fall, or winter? Are you still on planet Earth? Is the poem an animal, a plant, a virus? A sun, the moon? Water?
8. What does reading the poem make you feel like? Informed, betrayed, loved, ignored? Is the speaker rash, anxious, angry, happy, tearful, mournful, gracious, patient, loving, kind, mean? Do her feelings rub off on you? Does she make you feel stupid or smart? Bored? Tired out? Afraid. Brave.
9. Would you read this poem again? Recommend it to a friend? Tape it to your icebox door? Write it out and carry it around in your wallet or purse? Toss it? Shred it, frame it, post it? Would you memorize this poem? Where did you find this poem? Would you hide this poem in your most secret place? Would you staple this poem to a telephone pole?
10. Does the poem ask you to do something? Go somewhere? Misbehave or pray? Listen or talk back? Repeat or move on? Sink or swim? Write your own poem? The field is open, never crowded. Whatever else you might do or ask, do not ask what it means.
The Coming of the Toads 