Here's an excerpt from a review I recently wrote about Rick Cannon's book What We Already Knew . It shows some of the ways music can be used in a poem:

One of my favorite poems is “Commuting Notes.” The rhetoric comes to the reader quietly:
I fall a little short these days.
A comment made to a close friend, maybe.
Each afternoon, like some swollen, drowsy creature/in the lime-tinted lense of my car, I drive the green-clogged curves/of Sligo creek
“Swollen drowsy creature,” “lime-tinted lense,” and “green-clogged curves” surprise us with the shimmering unexpected. But the language is still contemplative:
Never again, I fear, to be lost
“Lost” is just right against “fear,” and shares a vowel with “clogged” and a consonant with “lime.”
like that boy I was, daily, on the walk home from school, gazing up/the whole distance at a maple-cluttered sky,
Three words—daily, gazing, maple—all singing to each other’s long A. And then this, spaced on the page in a way that also shows what it says: a passage so memorized-- then, right after drop-offs, step-ups, and root-/heaved slabs of walk merely jostled my drifting face-- brazed
So tactile and succinct. 'Soldered' would not have done.
I was to what I saw, poured through the holes of my gaze
--an almost synesthetic pulse, so beautifully imagined, joining the reader to the narrator, and this--
till I was air   blue   leaf
The reader experiences the elements, the brazing, the vastness of childhood.