There are 192 Poems that have a first line beginning with "f"

Fire in the window! flashes in the pane!
‘Fire in the window’
By Mary Mapes Dodge

from my bed
8 count
By Charles Bukowski

Forth from Calais, at dawn of night, when sunset summer on autumn shone,
A Channel Crossing
By Algernon Charles Swinburne

For whatever did it—the cider
A Cure at Porlock
By Amy Clampitt

Farewell, false love, the oracle of lies,
A Farewell to False Love
By Sir Walter Ralegh

Framed by our window, skaters, winding
A Gothic Tale
By Theodore Weiss

for years the scenes bustled
A Poem about Baseballs
By Denis Johnson

From embarrassment, I made statements.
A Posthumous Poetics
By Michael Ryan

From Clee to heaven the beacon burns,
A Shropshire Lad I: From Clee to heaven the beacon burns
By A. E. Housman

For I can snore like a bullhorn
After Making Love We Hear Footsteps
By Galway Kinnell

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Afton Water
By Robert Burns

Father, this year’s jinx rides us apart
All My Pretty Ones
By Anne Sexton

Featherweight lawn chair, cooler for a footrest,
Alone, Drinking With the Tickfaw River
By Alison Pelegrin

Fresh spring the herald of loves mighty king,
Amoretti LXX: Fresh spring the herald of loves mighty king
By Edmund Spenser

Fayre is my love, when her fayre golden heares,
Amoretti LXXXI: Fayre is my love, when her fayre golden heares
By Edmund Spenser

Forbear, bold youth, all’s Heaven here,
An Answer to Another Persuading a Lady to Marriage
By Katherine Philips

Far, far out lie the white sails all at rest;
An Ocean Musing
By Henrietta Cordelia Ray

From those few famous silkworms smuggled
Angels Grieving over the Dead Christ
By Gjertrud Schnackenberg

Forty-odd years ago—
Anniversaries
By Thomas McGrath

Fly, fly, my friends, I have my death wound, fly!
Astrophel and Stella XX
By Philip Sidney

From childhood’s hour I have not been
“Alone”
By Edgar Allan Poe

from Sonnets, Second Series
“And Change, with hurried hand, has swept these scenes”
By Frederick Goddard Tuckerman

from Sonnets, First Series
“Dank fens of cedar; hemlock-branches gray”
By Frederick Goddard Tuckerman

from Sonnets, Second Series
“How oft in schoolboy-days, from the school’s sway”
By Frederick Goddard Tuckerman

from Sonnets, Third Series
“How well do I recall that walk in state”
By Frederick Goddard Tuckerman

from Sonnets, Second Series
“Roll on, sad world! not Mercury or Mars”
By Frederick Goddard Tuckerman

from Sonnets, Third Series
“Thin little leaves of wood fern, ribbed and toothed”
By Frederick Goddard Tuckerman

from Sonnets, Second Series
“Yet, even ’mid merry boyhood’s tricks and scapes”
By Frederick Goddard Tuckerman

Fawns in the winter wood
Ballet School
By Babette Deutsch

Fear. Three bears
Bears at Raspberry Time
By Hayden Carruth

For a tree, you're the worst kind
Beech
By Kevin McFadden

Farmhouses curl like horns of plenty, hide
Blue Juniata
By Malcolm Cowley

Fish
Brief reflection on accuracy
By Miroslav Holub

Far, far from here,
Cadmus and Harmonia
By Matthew Arnold

For we have thought the longer thoughts
Chapter Heading
By Ernest M. Hemingway

For some people the day comes
Che Fece ... Il Gran Refiuto
By C. P. Cavafy

For hours now the Last Supper has been over,
Chekhov’s “The Student” (April, 1894)
By Brian Culhane

For a month now, wandering over the Sierras,
Climbing Milestone Mountain, August 22, 1937
By Kenneth Rexroth

Fish bones walked the waves off Hatteras.
Cottonmouth Country
By Louise Glück

febrile body I woke into: nightsweats, stink of the toil of living:
crossing into canaan
By D.A. Powell

Frame within frame, the evolving conversation
Dancers Exercising
By Amy Clampitt

From the first, I was too reluctant, achieving by dribs and drabs,
Dangers
By Rodney Jones

From the far star points of his pinned extremities,
Descending Theology: The Resurrection
By Mary Karr

Felicity the healer isn’t young
Doctor Frolic
By Robert Pinsky

Fire alarms, a far off wail.
Early June Meditation at Lakeside
By Colette Inez

Father’s opinion of savages
Edwardian Christmas
By John Fuller

Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy;
Epigrams: On my First Son
By Ben Jonson

For this she starred her eyes with salt
Epitaph
By Elinor Wylie

From plane of light to plane, wings dipping through
Evening Hawk
By Robert Penn Warren

From the tawny light
Everything that Acts Is Actual
By Denise Levertov

Fair Iris I love and hourly I die,
Fair Iris I Love and Hourly I Die
By John Dryden

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Fall, leaves, fall
By Emily Jane Brontë

First a noise under the kitchen,
Fallout
By David Bottoms

Fame is a bee.
Fame is a bee. (1788)
By Emily Dickinson

Fame is a fickle food
Fame is a fickle food (1702)
By Emily Dickinson

Farewell love and all thy laws forever;
Farewell Love and all thy Laws for ever
By Thomas Wyatt

Félix Rándal the fárrier, O is he déad then? my dúty all énded,
Felix Randal
By Gerard Manley Hopkins

Four buskers almost balkanized, tonight,
Feuilleton 5: The Buskers
By Christopher Middleton

Fie pleasure, fie! thou cloyest me with delight,
Fie, Pleasure, Fie!
By George Gascoigne

Fifteen men on the Dead Man's Chest —
Fifteen men on the Dead Man's Chest
By Robert Louis Stevenson

Fire works an established sequence: to begin with, all flames
Fire
By Francis Ponge

Farewell my dearer half, joy of my heart,
First Farewell to J.G.
By Ephelia

First turn to me after a shower,
First turn to me. . . .
By Bernadette Mayer

Fish of the flood, on the bankèd billow
Fish of the Flood
By Emilia Stuart Lorimer

Flamingos have arrived in Ashtabula.
Flamingos Have Arrived in Ashtabula
By Andrew Hudgins

Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow,
Follow Thy Fair Sun
By Thomas Campion

Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet;
Follow Your Saint
By Thomas Campion

Freely beside me the vineyards are running and unbridled
For Efessos
By Odysseus Alepoudelis Elytis

For my people everywhere singing their slave songs repeatedly:
For My People
By Margaret Walker

Forever – is composed of Nows –
Forever – is composed of Nows – (690)
By Emily Dickinson

Forty little polliwogs
Forty Little Polliwogs
By Anonymous

First the glycerin, green transparency of rain,
Four Appaloosas
By Stanley Plumly

From blossoms comes
From Blossoms
By Li-Young Lee

First there was a god of night and tempest, a black idol without eyes, before whom they leaped, naked and smeared with blood. Later on, in the times of the republic, there were many gods with wives, children, creaking beds, and harmlessly exploding thunderbolts. At the end only superstitious neurotics carried in their pockets little statues of salt, representing the god of irony. There was no greater god at that time.
From Mythology
By Zbigniew Herbert

Faded and baked here to a tawny grit,
From the Headland at Cumae
By John Peck

Full fadom five thy Father lies,
Full Fadom Fiue Thy Father Lies
By William Shakespeare

Followed by his lodge, shabby men stumbling over the
Ghetto Funeral
By Charles Reznikoff

Fetch? Balls and sticks capture my attention
Golden Retrievals
By Mark Doty

From here into the north, the ways are
Gräber/Graves
By Joachim Sartorius

Fortune has brought me down—her wonted way—
He Thinks of His Children
By Hittan of Tayyi

Fucking him was like Waiting for Godot;
Headstone
By Ragan Fox

from a distance
Hidden Harvest
By Rodrigo Toscano

For ten days now, two luna moths remain
Hinged Double Sonnet for the Luna Moths
By Sean Nevin

For those my unbaptized rhymes,
His Prayer for Absolution
By Robert Herrick

From the dull confines of the drooping west
His Return to London
By Robert Herrick

From the tower window
Horses on the Grass
By Grace Schulman

From the forests and highlands
Hymn of Pan
By Percy Bysshe Shelley

For all the insomniacs in the world
I Need Help
By Edward Hirsch

From where I stood at the field’s immaculate edge,
Ice Plant in Bloom
By W. S. Di Piero

Foil'd by our fellow-men, depress'd, outworn,
Immortality
By Matthew Arnold

Fire isn’t allowed, for the sake of the books.
Imps
By Albert Goldbarth

Flashing in the grass; the mouth of a spider clung
In Tennessee I Found a Firefly
By Mary Szybist

Forty degrees; the threat of rain. That time of fall
Independent Contractor
By Norman Williams

Fire on the mountain, fire under the lake.
Innocence
By Jane Miller

Falling off a triangle.
Instances of Wasted Ingenuity
By Dara Wier

First you must have
Instructions for Building Straw Huts
By Yusef Komunyakaa

For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
from Jubilate Agno
By Christopher Smart

For I will consider my black sow Blackula.
Jubilate Agno, 1975
By David Lee

Filene’s department store
Ladders
By Elizabeth Alexander

Furthermore, Mr. Tuttle used to have to run in the streets.
Leave the Hand In
By John Ashbery

Forgive me, if I wound your ear,
Letter to ARC On Her Wishing to be Called Anna
By Matilda Bethem

Father’s books lying on the living-room floor
Library
By Brian Culhane

Five years have past; five summers, with the length
Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, On Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour. July 13, 1798
By William Wordsworth

For all those beaten, for the broken heads,
Litany for Dictatorships
By Stephen Vincent Benét

Five soldiers fixed by Mathew Brady’s eye

Looking into History
By Richard Wilbur

From the point of view of all time,
Lullabye for the Second Millennium
By J. Allyn Rosser

For all the far-flung continents he'd crossed,
Marco Polo at Finisterre
By Matthew Brenneman

Forgiving the living is hard
Memorial Service
By George Garrett

For a long time the Spanish from Spain
More Lying Loving Facts, You Sort ’Em Out
By Arthur Vogelsang

Fear teaches nothing
Mother/Child: Coda
By Alicia Ostriker

From low to high doth dissolution climb,
Mutability
By William Wordsworth

From the depth of the dreamy decline of the dawn through a notable nimbus of nebulous noonshine,
Nephelidia
By Algernon Charles Swinburne

From a documentary on marsupials I learn
Nurture
By Maxine W. Kumin

Four white heifers with sprawling hooves
from Odes: 30. The Orotava Road
By Basil Bunting

For some time now, I have
Of Some Renown
By Jean L. Connor

Forget this rotten world, and unto thee
Of the Progress of the Soul: The Second Anniversary
By John Donne

From the high terrace porch I watch the dawn.
On a View of Pasadena from the Hills
By Yvor Winters

Fairfax, whose name in arms through Europe rings
On the Lord General Fairfax at the Siege of Colchester
By John Milton

First
Parting Song
By Jill Alexander Essbaum

Forgive me, soldier.
Please
By Yusef Komunyakaa

Fish-man comes with trout and fresh crabs:
Preliminary Sketches: Philadelphia
By Elizabeth Alexander

For all your days prepare,
Preparedness
By Edwin Markham

Fear death?—to feel the fog in my throat,
Prospice
By Robert Browning

For our own private reasons
Reasons
By Thomas James

For whom the possessed sea littered, on both shores,
Requiem for the Plantagenet Kings
By Geoffrey Hill

For what I did
Rue
By Samuel Menashe

For once, I hardly noticed what I ate
Runaways Café II
By Marilyn Hacker

Finally, I gave up on obeisance,
Salvation
By Stephen Dunn

Fast-locked the land for weeks. Of ice we dream.
Silver Lake
By Brigit Pegeen Kelly

Fifty was poignant, heavy pear
Sixty-One
By Doug Anderson

Fast breaks. Lay ups. With Mercury's
Slam, Dunk, & Hook
By Yusef Komunyakaa

Four feet up, under the bruise-blue
Small Woman on Swallow Street
By W. S. Merwin

Farewell to the starlight in whiskey,
Sober Song
By Barton Sutter

For once, I felt wanted, dead or alive,
Solo
By Roddy Lumsden

From Michigan our son writes, How many elk?
Some Boys are Born to Wander
By Walter McDonald

From now on they always are, for years now
Somebody Else’s Baby
By Mary Jo Salter

Fear no more the heat o’ the sun,
Songs from the Plays - Fear No More the Heat o’ the Sun
By William Shakespeare

From fairest creatures we desire increase,
Sonnet I: From fairest creatures we desire increase
By William Shakespeare

Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,
Sonnet LXXXVII: Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing
By William Shakespeare

From you have I been absent in the spring,
Sonnet XCVIII: From you have I been absent in the spring
By William Shakespeare

Full many a glorious morning have I seen
Sonnet XXXIII: Full many a Glorious Morning have I Seen
By William Shakespeare

First time he kissed me, he but only kissed
Sonnets from the Portuguese 38: First time he kissed me
By Elizabeth Barrett Browning

for the eyes of the children,
sorrow song
By Lucille Clifton

Far down, down through the city’s great gaunt gut
Subway Wind
By Claude McKay

Fires, always fires after midnight,
Summer at North Farm
By Stephen Kuusisto

For some semitropical reason
Tarantulas on the Lifebuoy
By Thomas Lux

From raindrenched Homeland into a well: the upturned animal
The Advance of the Father
By Fanny Howe

Fashionable women in luxurious homes,
The Anti-Suffragists
By Charlotte Anna Perkins Gilman

Foreseeing typographical errors
The Bitterness of Children
By Thomas Lux

For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love,
The Canonization
By John Donne

Friend, remember how you showed us beasts love beauty?
The Delicacy
By Sandra McPherson

Farewell (sweet Cooke-ham) where I first obtained
The Description of Cooke-ham
By Æmilia Lanyer

Falling to sleep last night in a deep crevasse
The Enigma
By Anne Stevenson

Frost shall freeze
from The Exeter Book: Gnomic Verses
By Anonymous

For lack of a nail the kingdom has fallen
The Fable About a Nail
By Zbigniew Herbert

for some
the garden of delight
By Lucille Clifton

From child to youth; from youth to arduous man;
The House of Life: 66. The Heart of the Night
By Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;
The Human Seasons
By John Keats

For us, too, there was a wish to possess
The Idea
By Mark Strand

Five hours, (and who can do it less in?)
The Lady’s Dressing Room
By Jonathan Swift

From breakfast on through all the day
The Land of Nod
By Robert Louis Stevenson

From the third floor window
The Mailman
By Franz Wright

Four-fifty. The palings of Trinity Church
The Mill-Race
By Anne Winters

From narrow provinces
The Moose
By Elizabeth Bishop

From the beginning, the egg cradled in pebbles,
The Pit
By John Fuller

For years I tried to conceal from the villagers that I wrote poetry
The Shameful Profession
By James Laughlin

Farm boys wild to couple
The Sheep Child
By James L. Dickey

Freckles on my thighs, my legs—
The Ships Move On
By Hilda Morley

Far out of sight forever stands the sea,
The Slow Pacific Swell
By Yvor Winters

Facing the wind of the avenues
The Sweater of Vladimir Ussachevsky
By John Haines

Fair tree! for thy delightful shade
The Tree
By Anne Finch, Countess of Winchilsea

Father of all! in every age,
The Universal Prayer
By Alexander Pope

For a saving grace, we didn't see our dead,
The War in the Air
By Howard Nemerov

For love—I would
The Warning
By Robert Creeley

From here my great-grandfather stood and looked out
The West Window in Moveen
By Thomas P. Lynch

For weeks the wind has been talking to us,
The Wind, the Sun and the Moon
By Anne Stevenson

From the old stone
The Wonder of the World
By Janet Loxley Lewis

For the first time, I listen to a lost
Then
By Roddy Lumsden

Flags of all sorts.
Things We Dreamt We Died For
By Marvin Bell

Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
To Daffodils
By Robert Herrick

For longer than by now I can believe
To the Blank Spaces
By W. S. Merwin

For his cancer
To the Destroyers of Ballots
By Donald Revell

Fair lovely Maid, or if that Title be
To the Fair Clorinda
By Aphra Behn

Farewell, too little and too lately known,
To the Memory of Mr. Oldham
By John Dryden

Farewell and adieu to you noble hearties,—
Tom Deadlight (1810)
By Herman Melville

Falling in love with a mustache
Uneasy Rider
By Diane Wakoski

Four lanes over, a plump helium heart—
Valentine's Afternoon
By Michael McFee

Fly from me does all I would have stay,
Winged Purposes
By Dean Young

Federico Garcia Lorca
Working Habits
By George Starbuck

Feathers fluffed the ashtray bin at the bottom of the elevator. Feathers and a smeared black look littered the parking lot like mascara. A cage would glide back and let them out to merge with the other cars on La Brea. It looked as if a struggle had ended in tears between the bird and an enemy. She broke through the fear to examine it. No chicken claws, or comb, no wing, no egg. The neutrality of words like “nothing” and “silence” vibrated at her back like plastic drapes. How could there be a word for silence? A child’s lips might blow, the North wind bring snow, a few stars explode, boats rock, but whatever moved in air did not by necessity move in ears and require the word “silence” therefore. She had personally sunk to a level where she could produce thought, and only “violence” remained a problem. It was common in her circle. A bush could turn into a fire, or a face at a clap of the hand could release spit and infection. The deviants were like herself unable to control their feelings. Los Angeles for them was only hostile as a real situation during the rainy season when torrents ripped down the sides of the canyons and overnight turned them sloshy. Then they hid in underground places, carrying Must the Morgue be my Only Shelter?? signs. But the rest of the time the sort of whiteness spread out by a Southland sun kept them warm, and they could shit whenever they wanted to, in those places they had long ago staked out. My personal angel is my maid, said one to another, putting down his Rilke with a gentle smile.
You Can’t Warm Your Hands in Front of a Book but You Can Warm Your Hopes There
By Fanny Howe

Fragile like a child is fragile.
You Were You Are Elegy
By Mary Jo Bang

Fortune hath taken thee away, my love,
[Fortune Hath Taken Thee Away, My Love]
By Sir Walter Ralegh