Guest poem submitted by Vivian Eden:
(Poem #905) I will put Chaos into fourteen lines
I will put Chaos into fourteen lines And keep him there; and let him thence escape If he be lucky; let him twist, and ape Flood, fire, and demon --- his adroit designs Will strain to nothing in the strict confines Of this sweet order, where, in pious rape, I hold his essence and amorphous shape, Till he with Order mingles and combines. Past are the hours, the years of our duress, His arrogance, our awful servitude: I have him. He is nothing more nor less Than something simple not yet understood; I shall not even force him to confess; Or answer. I will only make him good.
Recently you put out a call for named verse forms. This sonnet has it all - a poem about poetry, about closed forms, about chaos and order of course, about Eros, about women and men in general ("I will only make him good"), about the poet's power and control, about self-knowledge, about art, mysticism ("something simple not yet understood"), religion and what goes into the willing acceptance of any restrictions in art and life. It is also perfectly crafted and self-ironic. In short, a tour de force. Vivian. [Minstrels Links] Edto St. Vincent Millay: Poem #34, First Fig Poem #49, The Unexplorer Poem #108, The Penitent Poem #317, Inland Poem #590, Sonnet XLIII Poem #604, Euclid Alone Has Looked On Beauty Bare Poem #817, Grown-up Poem #860, Sonnet: Love Is Not All