About me: Queer poet and storyteller. From Wisconsin, went to school in Florida, currently live in NYC. (Writers in the city, let’s chat!)
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How do you start a poem? Where do first lines in poetry come from? This prompt guides you through generating great first lines.
Read below or find the full prompt at Poemancer.
First Lines in Poetry: Free Write Questionnaire
Before we look at some first lines in poetry, fill out this questionnaire in a notebook or writing pad. They’ll be useful for you later.
Answer the following questions in whatever way you wish: honestly, creatively, however.
Describe your experience of the past 7 weeks—but only respond in a list of images.
Describe something you are currently struggling with or fighting against. Use a simile or metaphor to illustrate the intensity or complexity of this struggle.
What is a constant reminder you have to give yourself?
Ad libs time! Finish these sentences with the first word that comes to mind. Do not worry about making linear sense.
Because of [adjective] [noun] [verb], I decided to [verb] [noun] [adjective].
Instead of [noun, verb, or adjective], I like [different part of speech than previously used].
[concrete noun], [abstract noun], [verb ending in -ing]—[what connects these 3 things?].
What desire or fantasy causes you the greatest shame?
What question do you ask every day, hoping to stumble upon the answer?
Poem: “Sunset Park Sunset” by Lindsay Turner
Originally published in The Harvard Review.
Surprise and aspiration are such killjoys:
suddenly the sky turns pink. Once
I had an apple, at the core it tasted
like a pear. These things are inaudible
but they change my throat: I’d say, oh
just let us leave this party or this town, this
preposterous industry and its permanent
haze: so much here is wanting
to be elsewhere, a self-shaped hole
in the permanent haze. Then I dreamed
I crossed the river to the cliffs and the city
on the cliffs, the gondola
turned sideways a little and the river seen
not looking down but looking
sideways from the corners of my eyes was nothing
but the texture of water, not black
not gold and most of all
not blue. All the while the sun
is setting, memory gets more delicate, I shake off
tension as if it were also just
remembered: it’s like holding
a quail egg in your hand, in your closed hand:
you can crush it, you can open your hand
and eat it, you can keep on holding it
Divinations
I love this poem’s first line. I don’t know that I agree with it, but I find it hilarious to think that surprise, in particular, is a killjoy. But then, if aspiration is more predictable than surprise, why is that a killjoy, too?
This is a speaker who announces herself immediately, with a voice and perspective that is entertaining and commands my attention.
Great first lines in poetry often do this: they tell us who is speaking to us and why, and they do so through careful attention to language.
Great first lines in poetry tell us who is speaking to us and why.
So, why are surprise and aspiration such killjoys? The poem doesn’t necessarily answer that, but we get to foray, briefly, through the mind of this particular speaker, who wants to “leave this party or this town, this / preposterous industry and its permanent / haze.”
Sunsets, in particular, hold great symbolism for her. We know this because of the title—and her rather aloof response to the pinking sky—but we also know it because of these line:
the river seen
not looking down but looking
sideways from the corners of my eyes was nothing
but the texture of water, not black
not gold and most of all
not blue. All the while the sun
is setting, memory gets more delicate, I shake off
tension as if it were also just
remembered
This is happening in a dream, according to her, but she takes pains to point out the color of the water has nothing to do with the color of the sky, only to follow that with the real pain of the sunset: its corresponding delicacy of memory.
A lot of this poem is gestural. We don’t know what the speaker remembers, only that she does not want to. The journey of this poem is more emotional than narrative, somehow both general and personal. Which is a hard tightwire to walk, only made possible because of an enchanting voice that’s felt at the first line.
Ways of Approaching First Lines in Poetry
So, how do you start a poem? Where does a first line of poetry come from?
Often, the first lines of my own poems will change between first draft and final. So if you’re worried about starting somewhere perfect, or even somewhere good, remember that perfect or good can’t happen if you don’t at least start.
Nonetheless, here are some ways of writing first lines in poetry:
Start where it hurts: Don’t wait to name whatever pain or feeling is bringing you to poetry. Begin with that feeling, and let the poem explore, unfold, and transform it.
Say the unexpected: I like when a poem comes out of the gate with an image, idea, or take that I would never expect to encounter.
Begin with metaphor or simile: These devices can help build the world of your poem, immediately driving us to your particular mood or setting.
Tell a story in media res: Latin for “in the middle of things,” in media res is a useful narrative tool for dropping the reader in the thick of conflict. A poem can do this, too.
Ask a question: particularly a question that is difficult to answer, or demands an answer in poetry.
Juxtapose: I also like it when a poem puts things next to each other that you don’t expect together. Give me some poetic orange juice and toothpaste!
Here are some first lines of poems that accomplish one or more of the above:
Other Great First Lines of Poems
Here are some poems whose first lines I admire.
Time
John Weiners
June, then September—life dredges past
Asking About You
Eloise Klein Healy
Instead of having sex all the time I like to hold you and
Summer Was Forever
Chen Chen
Time dripped from the faucet like a magician’s botched trick.
Prayer for Containment
Rochelle Hurt
O my luscious muzzle, my savory switch,
An American in Hollywood
Frank Bidart
After you were bitten by a wolf and transformed
The End of the Pride Parade
D. A. Powell
I went to the parade and watched people wave at Wells Fargo.
The Way the World Comes Back
Janet McAdams
When did you notice it was no longer winter?
First Lines in Poetry Prompt
Look at the lines you wrote from the questionnaire. Use one of these lines as the first line of your poem.
If none of them feel like particularly useful doorways, use the above examples as inspiration to generate a first line, and then write a poem that answers the call of your first poetic line.
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God is relation, full stop. He is like reality in this regard. Consider an electron, the fundamental unit of all matter. No one has ever seen one. They really don't "exist" until we turn our attention to them. The physicist Marcelo Gleiser says that "exist" may be too strong a word to use for an electron. I take God's existence to be much the same, though for God "exist" is too weak a word. We don't know what the existence of God is. We have no idea what the word "exist" even means in the context of God. What we do know—or what I know, I should say—is that God doesn't exist until I turn my attention to him. Relation brings him into being, or, more accurately, enables his being to be perceived, experienced, shared. My attention—and the precise quality of that attention—is absolutely involved. I realize this is unorthodox at best, heretical at worst. But it is my experience of being in the world and of being with God. "The feeling remains," as Teresa of Avila says, "that God is on the journey, too."
Miroslav Volf and Christian Wiman, Glimmerings: Letters on Faith Between a Poet and a Theologian
Poets, poetry lovers, the poetry curious, and even those of you who disdain line breaks and metaphors:
I am so beyond excited to announce the launch of my Kickstarter for Poemancer: A Card Game for Writing Poetry.
I have been working on this game for years now and am so proud of what we've designed. Anyone with even a passing interest in poetry will benefit from these card decks, whose prompts and designs guarantee you new drafts of successful poems.
If you're interested in poetry and/or card games, please consider supporting us! You can learn more about Poemancer at our Kickstarter here:
Poemancer is a set of card decks to inspire your poetry practice and generate new successful poems.
Game by: Sean Glatch & Sergio Araneda
Art by: Yves Menshikova
Animation by: Yves Menshikova and Miyako Molinelli
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In The Odyssey, Odysseus is extraordinary for the flexibility with which he can inhabit many different names, or no name at all. It is this quality of being multinamed and nameless that enables him to survive. By contrast, almost all the warriors of The Iliad yearn to have a name and a story that lasts forever. Their many names and titles, as sons and brothers and comrades and fathers and rulers, are essential to their identities, their connections with one another, and their fame after death. They fear, above all, being humiliated (cursed with a negative name), or forgotten and nameless. The lists and catalogs of names are essential to the poem’s own work, of memorializing and mourning the dead. Once the bodies return to dust, these syllables are all that remain.
I don't think God is this entity out there altogether apart from us. "The eye with which I see God is the eye with which God sees me," says Meister Eckhart, a quote which I'm sure you know and which is no doubt overused. But it does get at an important truth. Attention enables God's presence. The life and love that are God are catalyzed by the life and love we expend in his direction, whatever form that expenditure takes (art, prayer, worship, theology, maybe anything beneficent that is done with "absolutely unmixed attention," as Weil puts it). God really is more of a verb than a noun, as are our "selves."
Miroslav Volf and Christian Wiman, Glimmerings: Letters on Faith Between a Poet and a Theologian
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Signalis (2022) [H.P. Lovecraft, The Festival] /Sagittarius A* / Kathy Acker, Pussy, King of the Pirates / Outer Wilds (2020) / Is There a God-Shaped Hole at the Heart of Mathematics? / Drain for overflowing water at Sambuco Dam, Lavizzara Valley / ? / Thomasin Frances, Hole Theory (15/10/2022) / Bryan’s Ground, a public garden in Herefordshire on the Welsh border. / odd, weird, strange and unusual / Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves / Evil (2019-2014) / Judas H., Overflowing With Empty / Illustration of the Annular Eclipse of 1836 from “A fourteen weeks course in descriptive astronomy”, Joel Dorman Steele (1836-1886) / @imdad_barbhuyan on Instagram / The moon’s Copernicus crater. Through magic glasses. 1890. / Kaveh Akbar / Dune (2021) / x / Dmitry Kochanovich, Epiphany (Russian,b. 1972) / The Silt Verses, Chapter 41: But As My Last Breath Splits My Throat / Yousif M. Qasmiyeh, The Camp is a Bait for Time / Darina Muravjeva, Hole / Hilde Heynen in Heterotopia and the City / x / Leonard Cohen, Beautiful Losers / x / Louise Glück, from Descending Figure / Anne Carson, Eros the Bittersweet: An Essay. / Caitlyn Siehl, What We Buried; from “A Letter To Love” / Lara de Moor, Orb (2014) / Sam Sax, Pig / The National - Wake Up Your Saints / Aleksander Rostov / Sanna Wani, from “Princess Mononoke (1997)”, My Grief, the Sun / Gregory Orr, [i want to go back] / Thomas Ott / ? / Judas H., Overflowing With Empty / James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room / Massive sinkhole swallows house in Florida / Edna St Vincent Millay, in Letters (1952) /Silent Hill 4 (2004) / @/vren-diagram / Anne Boyer, What Resembles the Grave But Isn’t / Law of Holes / Scarlet Hollow (2021) / China Miéville, from Railsea
(part one)
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