Acrostic Poetry
Acrostic poetry is a form of short verse and constructed by a placing capitalised word or phrase
vertically down the page to form the initial letters of each line of poetry. Each line is used to
relate to the word, or praise the subject, if it is a ladies name for example.
The term is derived from the Greek words akros, "at the end," and stichos, "line," and was popular in
Greece during the Alexandrine period and later with the Latin playwrights Ennuis and Plautus. Much later
again, it became popular during the Italian Renaissance periods.
Originally the form also rhymed, and Turco in his book states this, however, in schools where poetry is
taught as part of the syllabus, it states that the poem does not have to rhyme, and I suppose free verse
exponents would agree with this, (and probably wrote the curriculum). So the choice is yours,
Classic or Modern.
In summary:
# May use one word or a phrase, placed vertically down the page.
# One letter per line, all must be capital letters
# Each line of poetry must begin with the letter on that line and must relate to the word, or phrase
using adjectives and phrases to describe that word
# Does not have to rhyme.
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Edgar Allen Poe wrote this about his cousin
Elizabeth it is in vain you say
"Love not" - thou sayest it in so sweet a way:
In vain those words from thee or L.E.L.
Zantippe's talents had enforced so well:
Ah! if that language from thy heart arise,
Breath it less gently forth - and veil thine eyes.
Endymion, recollect, when Luna tried
To cure his love - was cured of all beside -
His follie - pride - and passion - for he died.
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Maggie Cusic shows her enthusiasm for nature and the season:
Summer is beautiful
Unlike bitter winds of winter,
Making my heart glow, walking.
Midst golden fields
Enchanted
Rapturous.
Impressive vista's displayed in
Showy patterns of colour.
Breathtaking to behold
Enhancing my world.
Askylark
Unburdens his soul
Trilling his courtship
In a breathless dawn
Filled with wonder,
United in perfect harmony.
Lingering memories.
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As an alternative it is possible to use the final letters, this is termed, telestich, or down the middle,
mesostich. Peggy Nelson gives an example of all three in her triple acrostic, Rainbows End shown below:
Rainbow kiss vibrant essences, Romantic viewed with loveR
Alluring feelings to warm you, Activating a privileged areA
It’s message sent soft whispers, Ideal for views for you and I
New thought devised for loves, Needing to give away desigN
Bowed and curtseyed for your, Breathtaking look and throB
Over rainbow kisses heavenly, Others have a peacefully coO
Worth waiting for we concur, Wishing to fill yearnings floW
Substantial eternal memories, Scenic rainbows magical ahS
Exhilarating our loving times, Extra charming visions comE
Noteworthy to explore in time, New dreams exhaled flows oN
Dreams float near a sweetest, Dream, at every rainbows enD
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And if you think a triple is mentaly taxing, imagine the amount of Panadol Peggy needed after this Quad Acrostic,
yep four times.
Happily we walk in Holiday Happiness with a happy wisH
Abundant hopes to Address Apprehend, approach all pleA
Practice usin’ each Puzzling Piece placing, seeing it sharP
Pleasures floats on Pictures Perfectly home drawn to wraP
Your will finishes a Yearnin Yesterday, outlines on fantasY
New Years precise Notions, Noteworthy also venture upoN
Express the minds Energy, Enough to succeed a pleasurE
Watch more Years Wander, Watch your love grow and floW
Your colors, shine Yellows, Your words are radiately lovelY
Expect more lavish Engages, Establish power on given freE
Astound self by the Appease Acknowledge strength in areA
Rejoice New Years Retreats, Relish Gods gift given foreveR
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Aubade Poetry
How many of you have seen the movie "City of Angels" and remember the scenes where the
angels gather in the morning. Perhaps this meeting can be considered an Aubade. An Aubade
is a poem or song that greets the morning, or where wild life celebrates, or lovers wake, and
sometimes waking to reluctantly part.
Here is what William Shakespeare had to say.
HARK! Hark! The lark at heaven's gate sings.
And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their eyes;
With everything that pretty bin,
My lady sweet arise!
Arise, arise!
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Sir William Davenant (1606-1668) elaborates further on what his rumoured father had to say;
THE lark now leaves his wat'ry nest,
And climbing shakes his dewy wings.
He takes this window for the East,
And to implore your light he sings--
Awake, awake! the morn will never rise
Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes.
The merchant bows unto the seaman's star,
The ploughman from the sun his season takes;
But still the lover wonders what they are
Who look for day before his mistress wakes.
Awake, awake! break thro' your veils of lawn!
Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawn!
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However, in the poem below, we see Jenny Lewis take a different view of the subject.
She seems more concerned with the carnal than the vista.
She thinks of bread and butter sliced thin;
a brown egg, smooth as a knuckle;
a cup of milk, slightly warmed,
already forming a brave new skin.
Then later, chocolates, sweet wine,
maraschino cherries, shiny in syrup,
reflecting squares of brash light; cream
whipped into an adolescent frenzy.
But lying here with him, the budding light
is so far painless. She waits for him to wake
with appetite refreshed by sleep - knowing
that what he enjoys most is her hunger.
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Dark or Gothic Poetry
Pause for a moment and think! Have you ever felt that you were not alone whilst walking out
late at night. Have you heard the howling of a wolf, the hoot of an owl, or that sound that
you just can't make out and on hearing that sound rushed to the safety of your home. Once
the door is locked and bolted feeling the relief of escape.
Night
And the word created flesh
And the flesh created fear,
But the flesh could not fear itself
And so created fear of the night.
In the redness of the full moon
You waken and remember your fear
The creaking movements in the house
Then the cold, fearful sweats start again
Breathing hardens, eyes wide in fear.
Then the moon breaks through the clouds again
You see the creature stalking you.
The silver grey shining fur, inching closer.
The bloody red eyes and slavering mouth.
It leaps at you, feel the jaws bite.
Redness!!!!
Screaming you wake up in a cold sweat
Above your pounding heart, hear the sounds
Teagan De Dannan
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This mood of poetry is increasingly popular as an alternative to the sweet, white,
lovey dovey of Keats and Wordsworth. The master of Blank Verse, William Shakespeare wrote
some of the darkest poetry, I would refer you to his tragedies. So, if you fancy a change try
Poe and Rice instead of Sugar and Spice.
Just as with Sugar and Spice poetry, there is no specific form that is prefered
and even Limericks can have a dark side:
Dinner was set for three
At Dracula's house by the sea
The hors d'oeuvres were fine
But I choked on the wine
When I found out the main course was me.
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In my humble opinion the master of black moods is Edger Allen Poe and his "Annabel Lee"
(Pindaric Ode) is considered by some to be the epitome of Dark poetry.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
Edgar Allan Poe
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Nothing is sacred when it comes to dark poetry, instead humiliation of things held most sacred is
the norm and defiling and degrading the sacred things are the very basis of blackness.
Suicide, murder, chaos and evil creatures all form part of this wonderfull state and simple Cinquains
turn into cries for help from the suicidal;
Dark Cinquains
you left
taking my soul
straight razor licks my wrists
blending blood with tepid water
life flows
you laughed
it broke my heart
steel barrel strokes my face
finger caressing the trigger
one squeeze
always
spurned by your love
I now patiently sit
between two shiny iron rails
horn blows
Mike Sherman
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James Shields does a wonderfull job of describing death from alcoholism with this Sicilian Quintain:
Black Death
Black around the eyes, I drink more.
Slamming jealousy down my hole.
Misery's poison, taken like a whore.
The bottle demon playing it's role.
Bottle's empty, but my mind still rages war.
Drowned in sorrow, I sink quicker.
Whore eats away at my life's cords.
Depression breathes, soaking up my liquor.
Cannot sleep or forget about her words.
Prepare another bottle, I get sicker.
Sink faster, flushed with madness.
Pages are stained with alcohol.
Eyes glazed, trapped in darkness.
Running ink across the floor crawls.
Eaten away, drown the sadness.
Drifting further, I see demons dance.
Another cigarette in sorrow.
Shaken nerves, they twist my stance.
Kill the pain before tomorrow.
Need that liquid substance, my ends are frayed,
James Shields, Cryptic Visions
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Glosa Poetry
A Spanish form also known as mote or retruécano, closely related to the
cantiga.
In its strict form it is a poem consisting of a line or a short stanza called cabeza
(or texto), stating the theme of the poem and followed by one stanza for each line of the cabeza
explaining or glossing that line and often adding a refrain as the last line.
The cabeza may be any length or rhyme scheme and the poet is free to choose any other form.
Loosely the glosa is any poem expanding in the theme presented at the opening stanza and
usually repeating one or more of the lines of that stanza.
texto:
As I sleep alone in this distant town.
An ethereal blanket keeps me safe and sound.
glosa:
The lonely night draw swiftly down
Covering the world in a deep black gown
Creeping softly in without a sound
As I sleep alone in this distant town.
I close my eyes, but sleep can't be found
Till your loving spirit wraps itself around
Then I'm covered and warm wrapped in love
An ethereal sheet keeps me safe and sound.
Ryter Roethicle
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In the example above the glossing has been done by means of a short Rubaiyat.
In the example below, Court uses an Envelope Sestet and repeats the glossing
as the first line as well as the last line.
Western Wind
Western wind, when wilt thou blow,
That the small rain down shall rain?
Christ! that my love were in my arms,
And I in my bed again.
--ANONYMOUS
Western wind, when wilt thou blow?
When shall the rivers begin to flow
Over this ice toward the sea?
When will the branches of the tree
Drop their mantles of rime and snow?
Western wind, when wilt thou blow,
That the small rain down shall rain?
Then may the willows in their train
Loosen their limbs upon the stream;
Then may birdsong burst this dream
Of winter to seek the sprouting grain,
That the small rain down shall rain.
Christ! that my love were in my arms
Where the grass greens and the bee swarms!
She is fair as the mountain heather,
Comely and kind as Maytime's weather
Over the land after April storms--
Christ! that my love were in my arms,
And I in my bed again
Where gladly I have slept and lain
Upon the pillow of her hair.
When shall I once more come there,
Her breast beneath the counterpane,
And I in my bed again.
Wesli Court
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Nocturne Poetry
As the name subjects the Nocturne is poetry suggestive of the moods of night, pre-eminently
romance as is depicted by the wonderful Sonnet XLIII by William Shakespeare;
Sonnet XLIII
When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,
For all the day they view things unrespected;
But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,
And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed.
Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,
How would thy shadow's form form happy show
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!
How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made
By looking on thee in the living day,
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade
Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!
All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
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In the Classical period, the form used was usually the Italian Notturno, and there is a plethora
of inspirational work with musical accompaniment, perhaps intended for late-evening soirée's.
However, there are other moods that a Nocturne can convey, the Gothic mood comes to mind immediately,
but there are other moods and here is Walter Wingate's evocative picture of a magical walk at midnight.
Nocturne
A sense of stolen joy is mine
To leave the village sleeping,
And with the music of my feet
To wake the echoes down the street,
Where ne'er a light is peeping.
'Tis fine to hear the steeple clocks
With weary voice and hollow
Discharge their conscientious twelves
As if they knew within themselves
Of easier hours to follow.
Beneath the dim poetic moon
The houses seem enchanted;
Their unromantic yesterday
Is charmed a thousand years away,
And each is beauty-haunted.
And even the thoughts that come to me
The strangest shapes are taking,
And smack of dream and shadow too
As if the night would claim her due
From slumber or from waking!
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Far from being magical is this one, perhaps even whimsical is more the mood.
Nocturne in a Deserted Brickyard
STUFF of the moon
Runs on the lapping sand
Out to the longest shadows.
Under the curving willows,
And round the creep of the wave line,
Fluxions of yellow and dusk on the waters
Make a wide dreaming pansy of an old pond in the night
Carl Sandburg
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Rictameter Verse
The Rictameter is a modern poetry form based on the idea of the Cinquain,
and its popularity has spread simply because of its functionality without
any restrictions apart from its format.
There is no need for rhyme with this form, only a strict adherence to syllable
count. Like the Cinquain the Rictameter has a two syllable increment with
each line, and a two syllable closure. However, unlike the Cinquain, the
Rictameter does not stop at eight, it continues with a line of ten syllables,
and instead of a two syllable closure, it decreases each line by two syllables
per line until the closure. The closure being a repeat of the first line,
so it is advisable to make it eye catching and definitive.
The syllable count is as follows ..2R..4..6..8..10..8..
6..4..2R.
Here is a very basic example:
I think
I'm wasting time
Ignoring the form cause
Of the name, when in actual fact
The form is in my humble opinion
Much betterer than the cinquain
So in the near future
I will write one
I think.
Ryter Roethicle
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As you will see from the examples posted below, there are no restrictions on the
genre and it can swing from a simple love note to the blackness of Gothic poetry.
In this example you can see how Dera Cymreiges ignores the Refrain so that
she can carry on telling a story.
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I am the dreamer
Slumber
is a strange world
where the weavers conspire,
exchange tall tales, preposterous
lies and inside straights; each thread is woven
into their looms, creating the
tapestries on which we
feed our muse in
slumber.
This is
the place where priests,
thieves and lovers gather
at the same trough; this is where large
black cats chase slo mo runners, where stones of
intent are thrown in jest, where a
perfect rose crumbles on
touch, shows off its
Uglies
Dera Cymreiges
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For the story teller there is a certain freedom. Whist trying to
achieve some kind of meter there are no rhyme restrictions. You
are only limited to the 60 syllable stanza. The only thing that
amazes me is the lack of imagination that most poets show with this form.
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Rhopalic Verse
A very deceptive form that at first appears simple but in fact it requires a
lot of hard work to accomplish a satisfactory piece.
The rules are simple, with each line the first word is monosyllabic the second
word has two syllables the third three syllables and so on.
Turco in his Book of Forms gives the following example:
Come lover, hastily violently
And gather everything gatherable.
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Leny Roovers takes a far different approach to love and gives this as her example.
Dawn
As petals awaken expectantly,
dawn's dewdrop reflection-
a silken temptation;
lips linger, lusciously satisfying.
Leny Roovers
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