Eric Chevlen's Triple Crown:  A Sketch, an Excerpt and a Link

Recently an impressive poetic achievement came to our attention:  Eric Chevlen's Triple Crown is a meditation on creation, conflict, and decay, written in the form of a triple heroic crown of sonnets, a form constructed by Dr. Chevlen.  This work in its entirety may be found at www.triplecrownpoetry.com 

We are honored to present a sonnet which was a sketch for part of Triple Crown, followed by an excerpt from the finished work.  We hope the reader will be inspired to read Triple Crown, now available as an ebook, in its entirety. 

God’s Blue Throne—Adon ‘Olam*

Grandiloquent—creating with just words!

Of God I sing, who stretches space and time.

Deep beyond the deepest depths he girds

Salvation’s grace.  So simple!  So sublime!

Before the light of dawn or dawn of light,

Long before its first scintilla shone,

Unmatched, unparalleled in will and might. 

Even then―the King!―he reigns alone.

The roiling sea’s impregnated with salt.

How many creatures creep upon the earth!

Ravens, doves, traverse the turquoise vault.

O fertile world, and fecund from its birth!

No matter what will be when all is done,

Even then―the King!―he reigns alone.

 

[Note:  "Adon 'Olam" (Lord of the Universe) is a hymn found in the Hebrew prayerbook.]

 

*

 

from TRIPLE CROWN

 

[The three heroic crowns that comprise this form are conceived of as three intersecting rings.   To mark the intersection of all three rings, each heroic crown contains one poem that is not a sonnet but a villanelle.]

 

“Let there be light,” He said, and there was light.

The scattered sparks flew each its willful way.

(Up to us, the sparks to reunite.)

 

And there was evening, darkness renamed night,

And there was morning on that unique day

“Let there be light,” He said, and there was light.

 

The spheres that held them shattered.  Sparks in flight

Now fled in hell-bent scattered disarray.

(Up to us, the sparks to reunite.) 

 

How glorious stretched eternity, and bright.

How pure and perfect past and future lay.

“Let there be light,” He said, and there was light.

 

But pure and perfect bore within it blight;

Eternity proved mother to decay.

(Up to us, the sparks to reunite.)

 

Or is this greater glory, recondite,

A co-creating part for us to play?

“Let there be light,” He said, and there was light.

(Up to us, the sparks to reunite.)