How to Write Poem Titles and First Lines That Hook Editors
This article is for: Everyone!
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How a poem begins is vital—especially when you’re submitting to journals and magazines.
The beginning sets up expectations. It establishes a contract with the reader that you can later choose to fulfill or subvert.
But beginnings also do a job that is more superficial, yet absolutely critical for publishing success: They entice the reader.
I once met the editor of a major American poetry magazine who confessed that if he wasn’t grabbed by the title and first line, he stopped reading immediately. A second editor at the meeting vigorously agreed. This isn't an anomaly; it is normal.
Even if you aren’t submitting poems yet, it pays to obsess over your opening. It is the entry point for all readers, and first impressions count.
So, this article aims to show you:
How do you make your titles and first lines hook a reader—especially if that reader is an editor!
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What makes a title work?
If you want to know what makes a great title, pick up a poetry book or literary journal and scan the Table of Contents.
Which titles compel you to turn to the page? Those are the titles that work. Then ask yourself: What is effective about them?
To demonstrate, I’m going to look at Hail and Farewell by Abby Murray. This book is about being a US Army wife during the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Regardless of whether the poems inside match your personal taste, the titles offer a masterclass in engagement.
Here are some titles that stood out to me from Murray’s Contents Page, along with a brief analysis of why.
Five Days After the Wedding
I like this because it implies a story—one that seems intriguing and probably ominous. I get the feeling things started to go wrong after only five days! Naturally, I want to read the poem to find out what happened.
Bones
This works because of its starkness. The image of bones feels ominous—especially for the spouse of a soldier. I am afraid to know the gory truth, yet compelled to look.
Gwen Stefani Knows How to Get Everything I Want
This sounds funny and specific. How can this statement be true? I expect the poem will amuse me, and perhaps be satirical.
Skin Lady
I don’t know what this means, so I am intrigued. I have to read the poem to solve the riddle.
A Portable Wife
This title is an image in itself. It suggests a wife seen as an object, like a tool or piece of furniture. I want to read the poem to see how this metaphor is interpreted.
Prayer on National Childfree Day
This has two prongs. First, the invention of "National Childfree Day" is imaginative and provokes curiosity. Second, the word "Prayer" suggests deep emotion, promising a rewarding read.
Sex in a Small Town
Sex sells—even in poetry titles! But it also sets up a tension between the privacy of the act and the public nature of a small town.
When He Receives His Orders for Afghanistan and a Parking Ticket: How to Respond
This establishes a very clear situation and "plot." The juxtaposition of the tragic (war) and the mundane (parking ticket) draws me in.
Poem for Ugly People
This is simply unusual. There are plenty of poems about beautiful people, but ugly people? Not so much. The unexpectedness grabs me.
Motherhood Is Not Enough For Me
This statement is vulnerable and goes against societal pressure regarding motherhood. I want to know why the speaker feels this way.
How Can I Tell You This?
This hints at dark secrets, a specific relationship, and conflict. It is the stuff of soap operas; it is hard to resist turning the page.
Best Titles: The Conclusions
As you can see, there are as many ways to make a good title as there are to make a good poem, but we can see some patterns. Effective titles often:
Make us curious about people, relationships, and feelings.
Depict a whole scene or situation, to intrigue us about what happens in it.
Contain a hint of something unexpected or funny.
Suggest a specific attitude on the part of the speaker.
Leave us with questions.
What makes a strong first line?
Now let’s turn to first lines. It is important to remember that the title and first line work together. This has a few implications.
1. If you have a stunning title, the pressure is off the first line.
You don’t need that first line to do quite as much heavy lifting.
For example, the first line of "Five Days After the Wedding" is: "Five days after the wedding." This line adds nothing to the title. But it doesn’t need to, because we’re already curious about the narrative. (Though, as a side note, I usually suggest not repeating your title as the first line. You can often omit the first line entirely and let the title serve as the sentence starter).
Similarly, "Gwen Stefani Knows How to Get Everything I Want" begins with: "It takes a misdelivered Cosmo." There’s nothing explosive in that line, but the title has already stirred up enough curiosity to carry us through.
2. A strong title and a strong first line can combine forcefully.
"Prayer on National Childfree Day" starts with this line:
Blessed are the miscarriages.
This is an intense opening. It meets the title’s promise of strong emotion and then exceeds it, pairing the sensitive topic of miscarriage with the shocking adjective "Blessed." The first line raises the stakes established by the title.
3. Title and first line together can interact to raise tension.
One poem is titled "What is Named, What is Unnamed." I find this title a bit ponderous on its own. However, it plays beautifully off the first line:
A man with a cleft palate
After a weighty, abstract title, the simplicity of this concrete image is refreshing. I am immediately asking: What does a man with a cleft palate have to do with being Named or Unnamed? The combination hooks me, even though neither part is fully compelling on its own.
4. If the title is plain, the first line must work harder.
Murray has a poem called simply "Stollen." I like stollen, but I wouldn't rush to read a poem about cake based on the title alone. But the first line is:
My father was a blue whale.
Now that pulls me in! I want to know how such an outrageous statement can be true. Together, the plain title and the imaginative first line create balance.
Some other first lines that work
Here are a few other opening lines from Hail and Farewell that strike me:
"To watch the explosion in slow motion" — Intensely dramatic.
"A cadence is written like so:" — Makes me want to know how a cadence (sound) can be written. It promises to teach me something.
"Here are the spangled white folding chairs" — I like the word "spangled." It’s a touch of poetic description that signals the poem will be well-crafted.
"I am bribed with jewelry to behave." — This hints at character, tension, and conflict. I want to read on to find out why she needs bribing.
"When I was thirteen sex was a natural disaster" — A great metaphor right out of the gate, and very funny.
First Lines that Fizz: A Summary
We could analyze every poem in the book, but the pattern is clear.
Great first lines leave us wanting more. They open a door rather than closing it.
Great first lines often surprise us. They signal that the ideas in the poem will be worth the effort.
Great first lines show off technique. Through metaphor, description, or sound, they assure the reader that they are in the hands of a skilled craftsman.
Conclusion:
Ultimately, your title and first line are more than just labels; they are the handshake you offer to the reader.
They are the moment you say, "Trust me, this journey is worth your time."
Whether you are submitting to a top-tier journal or simply sharing work with a friend, don’t treat your openings as afterthoughts. Go back to your current drafts and look at them with a stranger’s eyes. If the title doesn’t make you curious, or the first line doesn’t pull you in, don't be afraid to make changes.
The rest of your poem might be brilliant, but it is the beginning that ensures the editor sticks around long enough to find out.
Next Steps: Hone your Openings
It is very hard to judge our own titles when we are looking at the whole poem. We already know the "secret" of what the poem is about, so we lose the perspective of a new reader.
Here is a practical exercise to simulate the experience of an editor looking at your work for the first time.
1. Create a "Blind" List
Open a new document and copy only the titles of 10 poems you are currently working on or planning to submit. Do not include the poems themselves.
—Format this list exactly like a Table of Contents.
—Print it out or put it on a clean screen.
2. The Stranger Test
Show this list to a friend (they don't need to be a poet!). Ask them a simple question:
"If this were in a book, which one page would you turn to first?"
—Ask them why they picked that one. Was it funny? Mysterious? Shocking?
—Then ask them which title they would least like to read.
—This gives you immediate data on which titles are "hooks" and which are placeholders.
3. The First Line Check
Now, go back to your document and paste the First Line of each poem directly under its title.
—Check for Repetition: Does the first line merely repeat the information in the title? (e.g. Title: The Red Barn. First Line: I walked into the red barn.)
—If it does, cut the first line or change the title.
—Check for Tension: Does the first line add a new element, a surprise, or a question?
4. The Rule of Three
For any poem that failed the "Stranger Test" or the "First Line Check," force yourself to write three new titles.
—Make one descriptive.
—Make one abstract or mysterious.
—Make one a weird image from the poem.
Pick the strongest one, and you are ready to submit!
