hunker down on their hands and knees
    and sniff the problem
 poke it with ungentle fingers
    rub it raw with steel wool
 wad it up in a ball and cackle
    then pound it flat with little mallets
 watch it rise like dough (uh oh)
    resume its original shape
 screech, swing at it with hatchets
    spatter the walls with oozing fragments
 stare horrified at the shattered bits
    reassembling themselves, jump up
 attack the problem with icepicks
    gouge holes six inches deep
 and seven inches across
    (chew the mangled matter
 spit it out and belch) kick the thing
    into a corner, remove their belts
 and beat it senseless, walk off
    with the answer in their pockets.

Today’s poem inspired me to dig out this poem by Judith Saunders.

I don’t know if it meets your criteria with regard to Saunders being an established poet; I can find little out about her. However, this poem was professionally published; it appeared in the Mathematical Intelligencer, I believe in the early 90’s. I still have the photocopy, which I’ve taped up near my desk at many places I’ve worked. I also found this poem:

http://braden.weblogs.com/poetry/euler

which I’m sure is by her and also appeared in the Intelligencer; this:
http://www.marist.edu/liberalarts/facviewer.html?uid=jzlt
would appear to be her home page. So: up to you if it qualifies for the Minstrels. [yes – t.]

As for the poem itself, what I like about it is the way it captures the sheer joy of mathematical aggression. Tearing a problem into shreds is pure competition, between you and the Platonic world. If you don’t know anything about mathematics, this poem tells you more about what it’s like to do research mathematics than almost anything else could.

— Mike