Hide and Reveal in the Acrostic Poem
What is that relationship where you both know that something’s there, and it’s not that either of you are afraid to admit it, but it’s more fun to hint, to tease, to keep leaving clues for the other to figure out? I don’t know what it’s called, but it’s quite a rush to get as close as you can to the tantalizingly unsaid.
Never in a million years would I have compared the acrostic poem to this kind of mystery, until I read Tania Runyan’s chapter on the form in How to Write a Form Poem.
I’ve always considered the acrostic the cutie pie of poetry. It’s what you get the construction paper out for. It’s the kind of poem where you use block lettering for each first letter, and even better, include a design inside each letter that symbolizes what it is you’re writing about — you know, to really drive that point home. (As if that is what poetry is concerned about.)
But Runyan encourages us to “choose risk over cuteness,” and suddenly I am in high school again, holding a note from a boy who’s written a message in code in the margins of the paper — just outside that faint pink line where teachers tell us not to take our pens and pencils. It will take me the rest of the day to figure out the message. Forget the Pythagorean theorem! Who cares about conjugating verbs in French? Give Edgar Allan Poe his heart back! WHAT IS THIS GUY TRYING TO TELL ME HERE IN THE MARGINS?!?!
What deliciousness it was to figure out his message, but the delight was even sweeter when I could continue with a secret message of my own. Nothing was stated, except I knew, and he knew that I knew.
This is the attitude Runyan takes with acrostics, and indeed, it is risky. This is not the form for dull No. 2 pencils and Elmer’s glue. We don’t want to be told what “L” stands for. We want to feel it creeping up our back, warming our cheeks, pulling at the sides of our mouths.
underneath the science lab table
nobody can see that
she moves her hand towards his
and ever so slightly brushes his hand.
It is a gesture unreadable.
“Did she twitch?” he might
think, except
he knows, or rather he feels that
it is deliberate and he remembers that every
night, the last thing they do before
going to bed is check in with each other, long, lingering texts. He
smiles and shifts silently; intertwines his finger with hers.
Try It
This week, write an acrostic poem, but choose risk over cuteness, as Runyan encourages us to do.
Featured Poem
Thank you to everyone who participated in last week’s poetry prompt. Here’s one from Jillian Hughes we enjoyed:
Never Broken
20 months and a thousand broken
neural pathways are all that separate
me and you. A pair of wringing hands,
a broken heart, a mismatched brain.
We all wanted to solve your puzzle,
put your pieces back together.
Did we do enough, when we were together?
Did you feel lost? Did you feel broken?
Like some sick kind of riddle? An unsolvable puzzle?
Or were you always able to separate
heart from head, soul from brain?
Was our love sturdy? Could you hold it in your hands?
Was it too heavy? Too hot? Make you yank back your hands?
Were you sick of holding our hopes together?
I hope you found solace in the corners of your brain.
Maybe we were always the ones that were broken.
What God has joined together, no man should separate.
Maybe you were always a poem, never a puzzle.
Maybe I ask too many questions, I’m too hung up on puzzles.
I should focus on things I can hold in my hands,
Things I can’t easily break or separate.
Like me and you. Siblings. Forever together.
A bond that can never, ever be broken.
A bond forged by heart, not by brain.
I hope you know I love your brain.
It makes me wonder, gives me pause, makes me puzzle.
Teaches me how to honor the beauty in the broken.
The bruised fruit, the lined hands.
Don’t you love how wisdom and struggle are always together?
A pair of tangled threads that refuse to separate.
I’m still learning how to separate
The truth in my bones from the knowledge in my brain.
All of it blurry, muddled together.
Like some kind of thousand piece puzzle.
Isn’t the answer written all over your hands?
Does it break your heart to know we’re all broken?
I refuse to separate the pieces of your puzzle.
I’ll honor your brain by holding your hand.
If we are together, we will never be broken.
—Jillian Hughes
Photo by William Warby Creative Commons, via Flickr. Post by Callie Feyen.
Browse more poetry prompts
If you have ever been in 8th grade, fallen in love, had a best friend, or loved reading, you will love this book. As the mother of an 8th grader, my other genuine hope is that my son will one day have a teacher as gifted as Callie.
—Celena Roldan
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Megan Willome says
Love that alligator!
My acrostic is taken from a line from the novel “My Sister, the Serial Killer,” by Oyinkan Braithwaite.
Comfort, Texas
Love is that drive down 87 and I-10
On silent trips, day after day,
Veering away from the deer
Ensconced along the edges.
I like this drive, you
Say, break the wall of
Neglect between us, this
Open wound we ignore,
Twitchy, our separate fingers fiddle
Alone. The clouds crowd us. I ask,
What do you miss? You
Exhale your answer: Sky. Un-
Exceptional blue
Draws our gaze up yonder.
Callie Feyen says
Love that secret message, Megan! 🙂
Tania Runyan says
I love this acrostic, Megan. Powerful.
Bethany R. says
That is a fun way to view acrostics. And I smiled at the idea of trying to understand what the guy is saying in code, in the margins. What fun.
Crystal Rowe says
This is so fun. I have always loved acrostics, as cute as they may be, and it was fun to try to be a little risky in creating a secret code of my own. I now have many words written vertically all over my journal to fill out in the days to come, but here’s one I made work (I think).
Question – how do you do punctuation and capitals in an acrostic like this? Does it matter?
Climbing into my bed with books in their hands, I
adjust my position to welcome my daughters in;
radiant light streams through the windows and
I hear footsteps on the stairs.
Never selfish, he offers us steaming mugs—
gifts of coffee (for me) and tea (for them); we
hold them tightly
as we each fall into a world of our own.
Not every morning begin this way; many
days we awake and do our own things; today I am grateful to
sit together in silence, with books and steaming mugs in our hands.
Callie Feyen says
This is such a delightful and cozy scene!. Great work, Crystal.
As for punctuation, I don’t know for sure, but it looks like you did it correctly. I tend to think like a sentence, and if it’s in the middle of a line, so be it. 🙂
L.L. Barkat says
Crystal, I love the welcoming in of your daughters. The books. The steaming mugs.
How you handle capitalization is all up to you in the acrostic. If you are hoping someone might notice, you can capitalize the beginning of each line. If you are really hoping someone will notice, you can hint at it in the poem title. Or, you can keep it as your poem’s little secret, which can be so personally satisfying! 🙂
Tania Runyan says
Lovely, Crystal, and I agree with Callie and L.L.’s advice about punctuation and capitalization. There are many options and several “levels” of secrecy you can play with!
Kim Knowle-Zeller says
I just love acrostics and so appreciate this understanding of them, so much richness. I can’t count how many acrostics I’ve written with my name. But here’s one to share:
Perhaps, she thought, I should go for a walk
into the woods, or the fields, or along the riverbank
lacking for nothing
grounded by the earth
remembering what it is to breathe deeply
imagining others who walked the same path
making a way where there once was none
a single step, one after another
grace upon grace
eventually arriving home again, but with new eyes to see.
Crystal Rowe says
Kim, I love this so very much. You have taken me on a pilgrimage indeed my friend.
Callie Feyen says
Ahhh, it starts with a nudge, a question. I like it, Kim
Tania Runyan says
Kim, the acrostic works beautifully with the subject: “new eyes to see”!
Sandra Heska King says
Here’s a found one with lines I culled from a poetry collection, Beggar in the Everglades by Diana Woodcock. I’m not sure if it’d be considered a cut-up or freeform.
On a Saturday
At peace in the midst of this wildness, free now,
listening with ears and heart. Hope’s voice rings
louder here than that of despair’s. Let the light
illuminate life. Walk gently on their holy
ground, attentive to the margins. Take chances.
Alligators can be quite companionable,
though a bit shy and elusive at times.
One must stay alert, oblivious to self, surrounded by the grassy
river, wind swaying blade-sharp sedges, present to and kin to all of nature
sense of wonder reawakened. Stay as the hesitant moon rises over the slough.
Katie Brewster says
Sandy,
From those last three lines:
“grassy river”
“blade-sharp sedges”
“hesitant moon”
So descriptively lovely:)
Just learned on Jeopardy last night that The Everglades is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Callie Feyen says
Matches the picture! 😉
I like, “a bit shy and elusive at times.” Indeed. 🙂
Tania Runyan says
A found acrostic poem! I love the combo!