Beyond the First Letters
Beyond the First Letters
A Subversive Acrostic Poetry Challenge
A Subversive Acrostic Poetry Challenge
Write an acrostic poem—but with a twist. Acrostic poems traditionally spell out a word or phrase with the first letter of each line, but this should not be a simple list or predictable description. Instead, find a way to challenge expectations, build tension, or hide meaning within the structure.
Your acrostic could:
Tell a story that contradicts the spelled-out word. (A poem spelling “HERO” that reveals a deeply flawed or reluctant character.)
Hide an unexpected word or message. (Something ironic, haunting, or even humorous when the first letters are read downward.)
Use enjambment and interruption so the poem doesn’t feel forced or unnatural.
Be structured non-traditionally. The acrostic phrase could be in the middle of each line, at the end, or broken up across multiple stanzas.
Contradiction:
The word spelled out is “BRAVE”, but the poem tells the story of someone overwhelmed by fear.
Hidden Meaning:
A love poem where the first letters spell out “I NEVER LOVED YOU”—revealing a twist at the end.
Non-Obvious Placement:
Instead of putting the acrostic at the start of each line, place the letters in the middle or end for a more organic feel.
The poem must include an acrostic phrase or word.
The poem should feel like a natural, well-crafted piece of writing, not a forced list.
There should be an element of surprise, contrast, or hidden depth.
You are encouraged to experiment with structure, tone, and meaning.
Choose your word or phrase carefully. It should lend itself to multiple interpretations.
Write the poem naturally first, then see where the acrostic letters can fit without feeling forced.
Play with tone and contrast. The message spelled out doesn’t have to match the poem’s surface meaning.
Make it engaging on its own. Even if someone doesn’t notice the acrostic at first, the poem should still hold up.
Lewis Carroll’s “Acrostic” (from Through the Looking-Glass)
Terrance Hayes’ “Acrostic for Gertrude Jeannette”
Harryette Mullen’s experimental acrostics
I kept the letters folded tight, unread, unseen.
Names we carved into the oak have faded now.
Every whispered vow dissolved in dust and rain.
Voices soften, memories blur—I let them go.
Even your face is slipping, edges dull and strange.
Remember how we promised? But promises rot.
Love was a shape I learned to mimic, not to feel.
Once, I thought absence would leave me hollow.
Violent longing was the only thing we had left.
Endings don’t need closure, only silence.
Do not write back. There is no space for ghosts.
You were the fire, and I was only the ash.
Our story was a match struck against the wind.
Underneath, this was what our love meant.