INDEX OF FIRST LINES 2024 ~ New Edition
INDEX OF FIRST LINES
ON THE SEPARATE POETRY PLATFORM
Links are being amended following the promotion of the Poetry Platform onto the Main Website Platform
A
A longhand letter arriving by land-post via airmail
A man of substance, be
A ship sails observed from windows high
A terraced row of competing facades
A momentous day occasionally awaits
A wall of ice encased him
An insidious individual
And gazing upon their anger and frustration
And gazing upon their anger and frustration ~ the trilogy
And He, They, spoke him into existence
As I lift my pen
As the gate of the year closes
Ask always this perceptive question
At break of day I’ll set off now
Audrey, how good to see you, dear
B
BARRRL-TASHUR I shall not tell you again
Beauty sat upon the bridge
Could Someone Else Go?
C
Can I help you?
Cinema departed overnight
Come! Let us walk together, you and I
Credit Card Billionaire!
D
Darren, can you open your eyes for me, poppet?
Days are sometimes black
Die Freiheit zu schreiben
Do not be an open book
Do tell me, pray
Do you ever see beauty you desire and taste?
E
East recoiled, seething.
Even the most sublime scripture
F
Fallen
Friday eve already, how is it in Larnaca?
G
Give me your hand. No! I can’t!
Good evening, Jack…
H
Have I, by any chance, finally met him?
Have no fear at this passing hour
He lay there pondering
He sat and pondered awhile
He sat quietly
Hello Dźan
Hey Tony, yeah you…
He’s fallen
His deserve is to serve men
How dare the man to have the affront
I
I AM the Spirit of Winter Male
I am whole
I cannot work out why it is
I did not mean to go
I have a thousand voices raging in my head
I have been on this earth thirteen years
I have known this before
I have no patience with closed and narrow minds
I have seen the depth of Hades
I have the ground beneath me and the sky as my roof
I smell the Mare upon the wind and through the stable slits I see her
I walk the cat-walk
I wish I could peer into the future
I wish I could put the clock back
I’m dressed in blue
I’m a man, a whole man
I no longer know who I speak to
I used to smoke for sure
In another place
In the night hour be discerning
In the watches of the night
In this quiet evening hour
It is a cold and icy wind that blows across life's dying embers
It is good to hear the seagulls
It is home where my heart is
It is so good to be walking
It is the nature of Islam
It is this night that I do leap the edge
I live and hunt by night
It lurks in underground spaces
It’s been a good day
I’ve always inspired, encouraged and warned (Rothko)
I’ve been on this earth thirteen years
I’ve not seen you in ages
J
John, come here
K
L
Let us tend him, sister Diocletian should not have done this terrible thing (Stanza Version)
Let us tend him, sister Diocletian should not have done this terrible thing (Later Prose Version)
Let’s not forget the power and immensity of the Universe
M
Make way, make way all
Mama, we love you very much
My back to the lake Colonnades ahead of me
My mind is corrupt
N
Nine years ago today, I moved into this apartment
O
Oh, GOD!! Where is she?
Open the Wings of your thought
P
People in the city
Persistent rain against an old Edwardian window pane
Platform Seven Lime Street Station, Liverpool Lime Street, Joyce of Whitchurch
Q
Quite Simply…
R
Revenge is a terrifying prospect
Reporting for duty today was like any other day
S
Sometimes, letters remain timeless
Sometimes we see, often don’t
Somewhere it is written
Sorry?
Spectators like to sit and wait
Spontaneous reflection in this gently darkened room
Standing here at this window
Sunday, a brisk Autumn afternoon
T
Tell me please
The deadline approaches
The freedom to write
The house is quiet, the light is dimmed
The moment has gone!
The Park is peaceful this evening
The sky is crimson tonight
The Spirit beckoned to my spirit
The trees are on the turn, summer is passing
There is a curious stirring amid the masses
There is a haunting sound in this melody
There is hope on the air, a stirring of the spirit
There is much traffic in the Estuary tonight
There is peace this afternoon in the Estuary
They are coming down the street now
They profess allegiance
They said he was a coward
Today is a good day, a very good day
Today is a bad day, a very bad day
Today is a good day, a very good day (Renaissance Edition)
To hit rock-bottom has one advantage
Tonight is the first night of winter
To the glory of humankind, the beauty of creation, the beauty of the mind
Twisted wreckage yesteryear
U
Upon Wing do I mount to the breeding grounds
V
W
We affix images in our minds
We arrived on Friday 6 October 1967
Well, we’ve arrived!
What is life?
What is this?
What is this ethereal realm (original version)
What ‘tis this ethereal realm (revised version in Older English)
What is this? That thou dost think …
Whose voices do I hear behind the email
Why? No! I like who I am
Winter arrived tonight, not so much from icy blast
Worry Not, dear Reader
X
Y
Yes, I have a few moments to speak
Yes, I lost two friends
Yes, this sun is merciless!
Yes, you see Me, an aspect of Me
You ask what I want?
You know what? I’m very tired (later prose version)
You know what? (original verse version)
Z
Æ
[i] Font Angsana New 16
14 February 2024
All Rights Reserved
LIVERPOOL
© 2024 Kenneth Thomas Webb
Digital Artwork by KTW
Author Note
We often remember a poem by its first line, rather than by its title.
At this stage, FIRST LINES is by no means the complete list. If first lines cannot be found using a search, that means that the poem is temporarily off-line for review or redrafting, or because it is scheduled to publish in conjunction with a calendar event.
I adopt this practice because it was, fifty years ago when I was introduced to poetry, very much in use, appearing at the rear of the anthology.
In time, I will activate the link for each first line to its poem, but it is not high on the agenda.
The Portrait is my creation by means of digital art. It stands. It reflects my inner thoughts and feelings, that deliberate and sideways glance, the way we react to hearing or seeing something without intending to engage eye-contact. Furthermore, it stands alone. I keep FIRST LINES more or less within the first five poems on the Poetry Platform, more or less permanently.
Kenneth Thomas Webb
Liverpool
Ken Webb is a writer and proofreader. His website, kennwebb.com, showcases his work as a writer, blogger and podcaster, resting on his successive careers as a police officer, progressing to a junior lawyer in succession and trusts as a Fellow of the Institute of Legal Executives, a retired officer with the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve, and latterly, for three years, the owner and editor of two lifestyle magazines in Liverpool.
He also just handed over a successful two year chairmanship in Gloucestershire with Cheltenham Regency Probus.
Pandemic aside, he spends his time equally between his city, Liverpool, and the county of his birth, Gloucestershire.
In this fast-paced present age, proof-reading is essential. And this skill also occasionally leads to copy-editing writers’ manuscripts for submission to publishers and also student and post graduate dissertations.
