D.H.Lawrence As A Poet: A Reassessment

D.H.Lawrence on the ship of death And it carrying away And he getting lost into the shadows. Had he been alive to see the frescoes Of Ajanta and Ellora, He would have appreciated Their clasps, hugs and embraces So intimate and affectionate. A sun worshipper, he wanted to live With the cosmos alive, Had he the Konark Sun-temple Would have admired it The wheel and the chariot pattern. Instead of it he refers to the Shiva lingams Of Benares, Phallic consciousness, The lingam-yoni motif Drawn out. A Naga worshipper, he likes to see Had he seen the snake being offered milk On the eve of Naga-panchami, Had he heard about the Bihula-Lakhinder story, Ma Manasha's worship. A gipsy, a vagabond, he seemed to be striding Along with Vatsyayana, Freud and Rajneesh Attending a seminar, An appreciator of guru-shisya prem, A Rajneeshite in a rudraksha rosary. A poet of the Bavarian gentians, lilies, Pansies and musk roses, He is moody and sentimental, Circumstantial and sketchy And incidental and occasional. Everything depends on his mood and sentiment, The feeling of his heart, Everything on the way he takes to And reacts emotionally And sentimentally. An Edwardian, a Decadent writer, He is an imagist, A Georgian Writing verses A poet of flowers, birds and beasts. He is s a poet of the humming bird, Of the elephant, the kangaroo, The tortoise, the rabbit, The eagle. A poet of the salvia and the hibiscus, The lily and the lotus, He is a poet of the oak tree, The bat and the mosquito And the snake. Miriam's love he has not, That of his affection of Paul Morel For his mother, Lady Chatterley as Clara And Frieda sucks his soul And he feels empty still.