What is another word for acrid?

Pronunciation: [ˈakɹɪd] (IPA)

Acrid is an adjective that describes a strong, bitter and unpleasant smell or taste. Some common synonyms for acrid include sour, pungent, bitter, searing, sharp, caustic, biting, acerbic, tart, acrimonious, harsh, astringent, acuate, intense, and strong. These words are usually used to describe something that is difficult to tolerate on the senses due to its unpleasantness. Some examples of how these synonyms can be used in a sentence are: The acrid smell of smoke filled the air after the fire; the pungent aroma of vinegar made my nose wrinkle; or the caustic remarks he made left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Synonyms for Acrid:

What are the hypernyms for Acrid?

A hypernym is a word with a broad meaning that encompasses more specific words called hyponyms.

What are the opposite words for acrid?

Acrid is a word that describes a sharp, unpleasant smell or taste. Its antonyms are words that describe pleasant, mild, or fresh smells and tastes, such as sweet, fresh, delicate, and nice. Sweet is a word that describes a sugary, pleasing taste, while fresh describes the smell of newly cut grass or flowers. Delicate describes a subtle, refined taste, and nice describes a pleasant, agreeable smell or taste. These antonyms are helpful when looking for words to describe food, perfume, or other scents and flavors that are not harsh or unpleasant. By using antonyms, you can add variety and interest to your writing, and create a more vivid and descriptive picture in your reader's mind.

Usage examples for Acrid

It smelt horribly of acrid tobacco and cookery, but at least, it was warm, which counted for much, and, during the last few months, Nasmyth had grown to look on it as home.
"The Greater Power"
Harold Bindloss W. Herbert Dunton
Waynefleet had cultivated tastes, and invariably gratified them, when it was possible, while it had not occurred to him that there was anything significant in the fact that his daughter confined herself to the acrid green tea provided by the settlement store.
"The Greater Power"
Harold Bindloss W. Herbert Dunton
The heavy, acrid smoke in their lungs made their heads reel.
"The Pioneers"
Katharine Susannah Prichard

Famous quotes with Acrid

  • Between the crowded houses of Gravesend and the monstrous red-brick pile on the Essex shore the ship is surrendered fairly to the grasp of the river. That hint of loneliness, that soul of the sea which had accompanied her as far as the Lower Hope Reach, abandons her at the turn of the first bend above. The salt, acrid flavour is gone out of the air, together with a sense of unlimited space opening free beyond the threshold of sandbanks below the Nore. The waters of the sea rush on past Gravesend, tumbling the big mooring buoys laid along the face of the town; but the sea-freedom stops short there, surrendering the salt tide to the needs, the artifices, the contrivances of toiling men. Wharves, landing-places, dock-gates, waterside stairs, follow each other continuously right up to London Bridge, and the hum of men’s work fills the river with a menacing, muttering note as of a breathless, ever-driving gale. The water-way, so fair above and wide below, flows oppressed by bricks and mortar and stone, by blackened timber and grimed glass and rusty iron, covered with black barges, whipped up by paddles and screws, overburdened with craft, overhung with chains, overshadowed by walls making a steep gorge for its bed, filled with a haze of smoke and dust.
    Joseph Conrad
  • The brave Norwegian drove his vessel head on against the pursuing jelly which rose above the unclean froth like the stern of a daemon galleon. The awful squid-head with writhing feelers came nearly up to the bowsprit of the sturdy yacht, but Johansen drove on relentlessly. There was a bursting as of an exploding bladder, a slushy nastiness as of a cloven sunfish, a stench as of a thousand opened graves, and a sound that the chronicler could not put on paper. For an instant the ship was befouled by an acrid and blinding green cloud, and then there was only a venomous seething astern; where — God in heaven! — the scattered plasticity of that nameless sky-spawn was nebulously in its hateful original form...
    H. P. Lovecraft
  • Muse who in the past inspired me to sing of the throes of love: Go and repose. What I need is a sword, rivers of gold, and acrid prose.
    José Rizal

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