https://www.poetryfoundation.org/articles/70212/learning-image-and-description
This is an extract from the above article
“A Few Ways to Begin
The poetic definition of the term image is broader than our everyday one, and this is important to emphasize: the poetic image is not just visual but an activation of any of the five senses. Although in our highly visual culture we tend to think of the visual by default, in fact some of the most evocative imagery engages the nose, the ear, the sense of touch or taste.
Another way teachers often present this subject is to discuss the appeal of showing (as opposed to telling or explaining) the object at hand. Again, in using the word “show” we are limited by the language of our culture—showing seems to refer to sight, but can also encompass other senses. In a poem one can show the sound of the neighbor’s cough, or the feel of the cotton of a lover’s shirt against the speaker’s face, or the smell of the pond in a Vermont town in winter. You can start by listing such sensory evocations, to become more aware of the imagery you come into contact with every day, as well as the images contained in, or as, your memories. Try this preliminary two-part exercise:
1. Sit in a public space for at least 30 minutes. Choose a place others are passing through (a school quadrangle, coffee shop, library, bus stop, etc.). Try to observe, using all five senses, what is happening around you. Record, in list form and in as much detail as possible, at least 20 different images that catch your attention.
2. Then, spending at least 30 minutes on your own in a quiet space, go inward. Think of strong sensory memories and try to capture—again in list form, and without worrying about providing explanatory context for a reader—those memories in language, conveying the strongest sensory details.
To take imagery deeper, and explore its potential for catalyzing new poems, you could expand upon the observation exercise above. For example, try taking one image from your observation and writing a page about it, not limiting yourself to what you see and hear and smell directly anymore, but allowing the sensory input to spark other thoughts, memories, images, story, and emotional weight. Robert Pinsky’s “Shirt” seems to do just this, beginning as it does with a physical examination of how a shirt is made: “The back, the yoke, the yardage. Lapped seams, / The nearly invisible stitches along the collar …” We imagine the writer may actually be looking at a shirt as he begins writing this. But then the imagination takes over, and the shirt’s journey comes to life: “the collar / Turned in a sweatshop by Koreans or Malaysians / Gossiping over tea and noodles on their break.” By line 10 of the poem we are in the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory in 1911. Then a jaunt through Scotland, and finally the modern-day factory in South Carolina where this shirt has received its inspection by someone named Irma (a detail we presume the speaker knew from finding the inspection sticker on the inside of the fabric). The poem takes us on a high-speed, higher-intensity whirl through history, reimagining its scenes, and ends back where it started, in close examination of this shirt’s physical features, but with new import: “the buttons of simulated bone, / the buttonholes, the sizing, the facing, the characters / Printed in black on neckband and tail.””