Author's note: An explanation is probably necessary here. The first two stanzas of this poem both describe Batman characters, while each of the remaining stanzas contains a clue to a common English word. (For example, the seventh stanza talks about the Solver "strengthen[ing his decision", so the fifth word could be RESOLVE.) When all the words are placed in order, their initial letters will spell out the name of the Poet, and their final letters, the name of the Solver.
It should be noted that, in a double acrostic, the relations between the words (or "lights") and the stanzas with which they are associated is rarely obvious, frequently quite remote, and sometimes all but imaginary. The genre is perhaps the ultimate example of that acute affliction of the Victorian Era: far too many clever people with far too much time on their hands. It seemed only appropriate, therefore, to transfer it to the world of fan fiction.
Disclaimer: Both the Poet and the Solver (under their rightful names) belong to DC Comics and not to me.
A well-renownéd anti-freedom fighter,
Most skilled in swerving stainless souls to crime,
In imitation of his favorite writer,
Did once compose a riddle all in rhyme.
The man to whom 'twas shown (another figure
Of import in this field, as you shall find)
Did leap to solve it with enormous vigor,
Entranced by what was hidden from the mind.
He bade the Poet sit and rest a little,
For this, he felt, was only right and fair:
When he should meet the meaning of the riddle,
That this most skillful riddler should be there.
But he could not decode the artful hist'ry,
And gradually he came to feel ashamed,
For was he not the king of mental myst'ry?
And yet here lay the poem, still untamed.
Again he mapped the way each line was leaning,
And every point to ponder he did plot.
Perhaps, thought he, there was no hidden meaning?
Nay, it was there – and yet he found it not.
Perhaps, again, the poem was mad outworking
Of hate directed specially at him.
The Poet wrote it (play and duty shirking)
To send a certain Solver to the rim.
And then the Solver strengthened his decision
To match the monstrous challenge to his brain,
To be the man to put the cryptic vision
In common words, quite obvious and plain.
He brought forth volumes, lexicons and grammars,
And pondered long upon the terms they taught,
So as to find, amid the wordsome clamors,
Some clue to all the Poet's twisted thought.
He laid his thoughts in order on the table,
In rows and columns helpful to the eye.
He reasoned just as well as he was able,
And soon he gave the Poet his reply.
The Poet found it just as he'd intended,
With all he meant and nothing he did not.
Each meaning had the Solver apprehended;
Each light was listed in its proper spot.
The Poet asked the Solver how he did it,
And he replied, "My method was quite plain.
To find a meaning where another's hid it,
One merely needs to exercise the brain."
At this, the Poet had an inclination
To tan the Solver's self-important hide,
But he suppressed his rightful indignation
And with unruffled countenance replied,
"Then let us go and make a great commotion,
Professing your success with noisy glee."
The Solver seconded this happy notion,
And both went forth upon their frabjous spree.