A Week of Poetry

In my Creative Writing class, we're working on poetry for a week. Each day, I add one more building block, one more technique. Yesterday was their first day, and we talked about what poetry is (my favorite definitions: poetry is memorable speech/poetry helps the reader see something in a new way).
We read a few poems about poetry, such as this poem by Ishmael Reed and this poem by Archibald MacLeish.
Then, the students had to write their own poems about poetry. Here is mine:

an apple freshly picked
smelling of sun and rain and
168 days of life
hums with potential. it could be
anything.

this infant grasps my finger
and smiles a wide milky
smile. her skin smells of
powder and love and something like
rain. she could
be anything.

i lie in my bed, my heart racing/my
ears aching with the still-ringing
jangle of my alarm clock.
the night sky beings to peel itself
away and the new days begins. it
could be anything.

this poem began with an image
an apple freshly picked. adding
a worm lurking inside was considered/discarded.
this poem became what it is.
it may change again: probably will.
it could be anything.