Famous Acrid Poems by Famous Poets

These are examples of famous Acrid poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous acrid poems. These examples illustrate what a famous acrid poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).

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Quickstep

by A S J Tessimond
 Acknowledge the drum's whisper.
Yield to its velvet
Nudge. Cut a slow air-
Curve. Then dip (hip to hip):
Sway, swing, pedantically
Poise. Now recover,
Converting the coda
To prelude of sway-swing-
Recover.
 Acknowledge
The drum-crack's alacrity - 
Acrid exactitude -
Catch it, then slacken,
Then catch as cat catches
Rat. Trace your graph:
Loop, ellipse. Skirt an air-wall
To bend it and break it -
Thus - so - 
As the drum speaks!...Read more of this...

Frances

by Charlotte Bronte
 SHE will not sleep, for fear of dreams, 
But, rising, quits her restless bed, 
And walks where some beclouded beams 
Of moonlight through the hall are shed.

Obedient to the goad of grief, 
Her steps, now fast, now lingering slow, 
In varying motion seek relief 
From the Eumenides of woe.

Wringing her hands, at intervals­ 
But long as mute as phantom...Read more of this...

Surprise is like a thrilling -- pungent --

by Emily Dickinson
 Surprise is like a thrilling -- pungent --
Upon a tasteless meat
Alone -- too acrid -- but combined
An edible Delight....Read more of this...

Maveric

by Spike Milligan
 Maveric Prowles
Had Rumbling Bowles
That thundered in the night.
It shook the bedrooms all around
And gave the folks a fright.
The doctor called;
He was appalled
When through his stethoscope
He heard the sound of a baying hound,
And the acrid smell of smoke.
Was there a cure?
'The higher the fewer'
The learned doctor said,
Then turned poor Maveric inside out
And stood him on his head.
'Just as I though
You've...Read more of this...

Ralph Rhodes

by Edgar Lee Masters
 All they said was true:
I wrecked my father's bank with my loans
To dabble in wheat; but this was true --
I was buying wheat for him as well,
Who couldn't margin the deal in his name
Because of his church relationship.
And while George Reece was serving his term
I chased the will-o'-the-wisp of women,
And the mockery of wine in New York.
It's deathly to...Read more of this...

The Moose

by Elizabeth Bishop
 From narrow provinces
of fish and bread and tea,
home of the long tides
where the bay leaves the sea
twice a day and takes
the herrings long rides,

where if the river
enters or retreats 
in a wall of brown foam
depends on if it meets
the bay coming in,
the bay not at home;

where, silted red,
sometimes the sun sets
facing a red sea,
and others, veins the flats'
lavender, rich...Read more of this...

Bacchus

by Ralph Waldo Emerson
BRING me wine but wine which never grew 
In the belly of the grape  
Or grew on vine whose tap-roots reaching through 
Under the Andes to the Cape  
Suffer'd no savour of the earth to 'scape. 5 

Let its grapes the morn salute 
From a nocturnal root  
Which feels the acrid juice 
Of Styx and Erebus; 
And...Read more of this...

Frigid and sweet Her parting Face --

by Emily Dickinson
 Frigid and sweet Her parting Face --
Frigid and fleet my Feet --
Alien and vain whatever Clime
Acrid whatever Fate.

Given to me without the Suit
Riches and Name and Realm --
Who was She to withhold from me
Penury and Home?...Read more of this...

Story of Udaipore:

by Adela Florence Cory Nicolson
   Told by Lalla-ji, the Priest

         "And when the Summer Heat is great,
           And every hour intense,
         The Moghra, with its subtle flowers,
         ...Read more of this...

An American

by Rudyard Kipling
 If the Led Striker call it a strike,
 Or the papers call it a war,
They know not much what I am like,
 Nor what he is, My Avatar.

Throuh many roads, by me possessed,
 He shambles forth in cosmic guise;
He is the Jester and the Jest,
 And he the Text himself applies.

The Celt is in his heart and hand,
 The...Read more of this...

Wounded

by Robert William Service
 Is it not strange? A year ago to-day,
 With scarce a thought beyond the hum-drum round,
I did my decent job and earned my pay;
 Was averagely happy, I'll be bound.
Ay, in my little groove I was content,
 Seeing my life run smoothly to the end,
With prosy days in stolid labour spent,
 And jolly nights, a pipe, a glass, a...Read more of this...

The Fishermen

by Emile Verhaeren
The spot is flaked with mist, that fills,
Thickening into rolls more dank,
The thresholds and the window-sills,
And smokes on every bank.


The river stagnates, pestilent
With carrion by the current sent
This way and that—and yonder lies
The moon, just like a woman dead,
That they have smothered overhead,
Deep in the skies.


In a few boats alone there gleam
Lamps that light up and magnify
The backs, bent over...Read more of this...

The Fruit Shop

by Amy Lowell
 Cross-ribboned shoes; a muslin gown,
High-waisted, girdled with bright blue;
A straw poke bonnet which hid the frown
She pluckered her little brows into
As she picked her dainty passage through
The dusty street. "Ah, Mademoiselle,
A dirty pathway, we need rain,
My poor fruits suffer, and the shell
Of this nut's too big for its kernel, lain
Here in the sun it has shrunk again.
The baker down...Read more of this...

Sea Rose

by Hilda Doolittle
 Rose, harsh rose, 
marred and with stint of petals, 
meagre flower, thin, 
sparse of leaf, 

more precious 
than a wet rose 
single on a stem -- 
you are caught in the drift. 

Stunted, with small leaf, 
you are flung on the sand, 
you are lifted 
in the crisp sand 
that drives in the wind. 

Can the spice-rose 
drip such...Read more of this...

At The Parade

by Robert William Service
 I cannot flap a flag
 Or beat a drum;
Behind the mob I lag
 With larynx dumb;
Alas! I fear I'm not
 A Patriot.

With acrid eyes I see
 The soul of things;
And equal unto me
 Are cooks and kings;
I would not cross the street
 A duke to meet.

Oh curse me for a fool
 To be so proud;
To stand so still and...Read more of this...

An Island

by Edwin Arlington Robinson
 Take it away, and swallow it yourself. 
Ha! Look you, there’s a rat. 
Last night there were a dozen on that shelf, 
And two of them were living in my hat. 
Look! Now he goes, but he’ll come back—
Ha? But he will, I say … 
Il reviendra-z-à Pâques, 
Ou à la Trinité …
Be very sure that he’ll return again;...Read more of this...

A Channel Passage

by Rupert Brooke
 The damned ship lurched and slithered. Quiet and quick
My cold gorge rose; the long sea rolled; I knew
I must think hard of something, or be sick;
And could think hard of only one thing -- YOU!
You, you alone could hold my fancy ever!
And with you memories come, sharp pain, and dole.
Now there's a choice -- heartache or tortured liver!
A sea-sick...Read more of this...

A Woman Waits for Me

by Walt Whitman
 A WOMAN waits for me—she contains all, nothing is lacking, 
Yet all were lacking, if sex were lacking, or if the moisture of the right man were
 lacking. 

Sex contains all, 
Bodies, Souls, meanings, proofs, purities, delicacies, results, promulgations, 
Songs, commands, health, pride, the maternal mystery, the seminal milk;
All hopes, benefactions, bestowals, 
All the passions, loves, beauties, delights of...Read more of this...

Jeremy Carlisle

by Edgar Lee Masters
 Passer-by, sin beyond any sin
Is the sin of blindness of souls to other souls.
And joy beyond any joy is the joy
Of having the good in you seen, and seeing the good
At the miraculous moment!
Here I confess to a lofty scorn,
And an acrid skepticism.
But do you remember the liquid that Penniwit
Poured on tintypes making them blue
With a mist like hickory...Read more of this...

Dolor of Autumn

by D. H. Lawrence
 The acrid scents of autumn, 
Reminiscent of slinking beasts, make me fear 
Everything, tear-trembling stars of autumn 
And the snore of the night in my ear. 

For suddenly, flush-fallen, 
All my life, in a rush 
Of shedding away, has left me 
Naked, exposed on the bush. 

I, on the bush of the globe, 
Like a newly-naked berry, shrink
Disclosed: but...Read more of this...

The peter-bird

by Eugene Field
 Out of the woods by the creek cometh a calling for Peter,
And from the orchard a voice echoes and echoes it over;
Down in the pasture the sheep hear that strange crying for Peter,
Over the meadows that call is aye and forever repeated.
So let me tell you the tale, when, where, and how it all happened,
And, when the story is...Read more of this...

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