D.H.Lawence

They know you as a writer of adolescent dreams, sexual love and its culmination, Man-woman relationship, attraction and repulsion met in love, love and hate theme, Luscious lips quivering, psychic tremble and tremor, Electro-magnetic sensations and impressions passing over, The heart the centre of all A writer of darker delvings, psychological probe, cutting the ice of the dark layers, What it happens underneath, He seeks, re-seeks to define human relationships, Bodily satisfaction and the quenching of thirst With Sons and Lovers, Women in love, The Rainbow, Lady Chatterley’s Lover, He portrays the pictures and impressions of some lovely women, Bodily attraction, With the hunger of the body, Portrays and paints, sketches and presents With the labour class hero, eloping with the middle class heroine, He can turn even up to mother-son fixation And for this he is incestuous and immoral, degraded and fallen, A preacher of guru-shisya prem, teacher-disciple love. Had he read Vatsyayana’s Kamasuttra, he would have exalted, Had he the erotic frescoes On the walls of the Konark Sun-temple, The caves and temple sculptures Of Ajanta & Ellora, Elephanta and Khajuraho, The worship of the Shiva lingam and the bull statue attendant Would have enthralled him no doubt A controversial writer, he is a disputed genius, the son of a coal-miner Who knows nothing but the body of flesh and blood, Wiser than intellect, As the attachment of blood is more than intellectual attachment And one gets misled, drawn towards As such is the pull From sex to samadhi, to say it in the Rajnisite terms, similar the case with him, A lover of Jessie Chambers, Louie Burrows, Helen Corke, Alex Dax And Frieda Weekley, A writer of masculine stance and possessive, He is a writer of sexual mysticism, Flesh and blood wiser than intellect, The pulls and counter-pulls of human consciousness.