Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.

Acrostic Grandfather Poems | Acrostic Poems About Grandfather

These Acrostic Grandfather poems are examples of Acrostic poems about Grandfather. These are the best examples of Acrostic Grandfather poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Acrostic |


Grave is where you lie
Remembering who you are
Attributes you instilled in me, guided fleets 
North Star

Dedicated soldier 
Fought in World War II
Agonizing pain from cancer 
Tried to hold on to you

Home back to God you went
Eternally peaceful as can be
Respectfully loving all you were for me

Copyright © Lauren Smith | Year Posted 2014

Details | Acrostic |


Sight of death still considered in a distance
Enteric fluids rich in life and so much history
X-rated is the cloud of wisdom and experiences
An era of the grandparent and a few great grands, or
Generation of three steps and a few reaching four
Elder with some strength to still make things happen
New and relaxing is this life, phase or strata
Accomplished is one now counting his accolades
Retirement and pension are common trademarks
In a twelve, a possible nine already show medical signs
After this phase is a time to await death
Nevertheless, still not up to seven decades in existence.

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2016

Details | Acrostic |

Plume Of Honour

It Was An Era Mankind  Groan’d
Brute, Its Ruthless Fangs, Apartheid
Regime So Repressive, South Africans Moan’d
           A Wail Of Laments, Less Than Slaves
                            O, Wept The Zulus, Aliens At Home
                                                         Where Is A Redeemer?
                                                                             Where Is God?
Freedom Zealots Are Kill’d, Jail’d
          Oliver Thambo, Nelson Mandela
“God Save Our Peoples”, Arch-Bishop Tutu Wail’d
             And Fellow Libertarians, Ungather’d  Abroad
                                     Minutes, Years, Roll’d! Androll’d By
                                                                Where Is A Redeemer?
                                                                                    Where Is God?      
Of Immortal Presence His Invisible Light
From The Heart Of Mandela Breath’d Forth This Torch
               A Promise Of Love
                    A Promise Of Freedom
                          A Promise For Forgiveness

Virtues, Hate Or Death Could Never Overcome
                In Praise And Resilience Scann’d The Minutes
                                      In Faith And Hope Waited Mandela
                                                   In Dream Of Freedom
                                                   In Dream For Forgiveness
O, Madiba, Within Thy Ribs Beats The Heart Of An Angel
                                              An African With Plume Of Honour  

Copyright © Nestor Dzenchuo | Year Posted 2013

Details | Acrostic |

Divine Providence

Ruminating over a golden era gone by and over possessiveness filled me with nostalgia
Ultimate luxury of vying for a car as well as owning a chauffeur driven one was
Sadly for the migrated rulers who ruled over another dynasty across oceans
The massive Ford drove into grandpa's driveway in the early forties
Exactly thirty years later it stood dark, forlorn, inviting rust under the banyan tree
Devoid of its master whose ashes were bestrewn within the old British Raj bungalow

Benign weather peeled off layers of its glossy makeup despite its bare upkeep; our
Undulating frustration as it drank too many gallons; moleskin upholstery on bucketed 
Seats laid bare its withered ribs, spouting foul smell in rain and sun; the rolling
Tyres busted for the wheels didn't spin down the familiar roads along the hill; our 
Eyes got sore at its lost lustre while we heaved deep sighs at its opulent maintenance
Divine providence intervened to refurbish the vintage for glorious view in the Museum

Contest Judged on June 26, 2016

July 1, 2016
For Broken Wings
Contest: I Got Zero, Nothing, Nada - 1

*Migrated rulers refer to the British rule in India

Copyright © Balveen Cheema | Year Posted 2016