How do you start a poem? Where do first lines in poetry come from? This prompt guides you through generating great first lines.

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.

1. Describe your experience of the past 7 weeks—but only respond in a list of images.
2. Describe something you are currently struggling with or fighting against. Use a simile or metaphor to illustrate the intensity or complexity of this struggle.
3. What is a constant reminder you have to give yourself?
4. 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?].

5. What desire or fantasy causes you the greatest shame?
6. 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.