Of Renewal and Change: D.H. Lawrence's 'Phoenix'

D.H. Lawrence was a bit of a mystic. He loved to write about divinity and focused on bigger questions and larger things. In an essay discussing the eternal and the past in poetry, Lawrence argued that the poetry of the ‘present’ is key to capturing life’s deepest meanings. Poets need to write in what he called the ‘insurgent naked throb of the instant moment’ [1]. Doing so will allow them to accurately mimic and relay everyday truths – ‘never-pausing, never-ceasing life itself’ [2]. They will draw attention away from themselves, write about transformation in a present and dynamic moment and finally achieve an objective atmosphere. The poet must focus on immediacy to create Art.

In the early twentieth-century, Lawrence critiqued his fellow writers for failing to capture pure feelings in their poems and, in the process, devised his own poetic theory. Yet he never stopped there. In his own work, Lawrence applied his rules, attempting to create a sense of the here-and-now. He composed poems in vers libre (free verse), preferring to rhyme words by accident rather than forcing them to submit to more established poetic forms. His internal emotions guided his creative processes, and ‘Phoenix’ shows such a love for creative spontaneity.

‘Phoenix’ is about transformation and reformulation. Drawing on the Greek mythos of the ever-changing bird, Lawrence challenges his readers to think deeply. The poem’s speaker interrogates us.

          Are you willing to be sponged out, erased, cancelled,

          made nothing?

          [. . .]

          dipped into oblivion?

Rhetorical questions always confront the reader with sizeable conundrums, forcing us to think on the spot. Lawrence presents us with an existential threat concerning the will to disappear completely from the earth’s surface, a mirror to the Phoenix’s condition. He evokes a general air of fragility: the human condition, temporal and flame-like, is deeply vulnerable. Later writers have also touched upon this theme. Consider, for instance, Samuel Beckett’s ideas and how they correspond with Lawrence’s words. ‘They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it’s night once more’ [3]. The here-and-now, although brief, is all that matters. Lawrence’s ‘Phoenix’ knows this better than anyone else.

Then Lawrence smacks us with a nerve-shattering line: ‘If not, you will never change.’ The Phoenix is a beast which lives and dies continually, forever undergoing a process of renewal. For human beings to really change, they must reformulate. We must undergo transformative experiences, those which re-shape our conception of what is worth choosing, through life affirming activities, such as reading poetry. Like a long snake shedding its skin, the human criteria for reformulation involves accepting the death of something – perhaps a previous social identity, or an antiquated worldview. This middle stanza, visually speaking, stands out from the rest of the poem, using typographical space to super-charge its language with emotional strength. It slaps our faces into sobriety.

The poem’s core idea, then, is this: destruction breeds construction. Lawrence’s final stanza, written in the present tense, aims to convey this philosophy for life. The poem’s Phoenix is reborn, renewing her youth. The stanza ends with a repetition.

          Then the small stirring of a new small bub in the nest

          [. . .]

          Shows that she is renewing her youth like the eagle

          Immortal bird.

An image of continuity and consistency emerges, turning in on itself like the serpent eating its tail. Lawrence said that, for a first-class poem to work its magic, there ‘must be mutation’ [4]. To compose everlasting words, the poet must interact with creative change, nothing static. Exactly: the here-and-now, faithful to the rhythms of life, serves to fulfil this overall agenda of well written poetry. ‘Phoenix’ achieves this goal. It challenges the reader to change both who they are and their fixed conceptions of themselves.

Notes:

[1] D. H. Lawrence, ‘Introduction to New Poems’ in A. Beal (ed.), D.H. Lawrence: Selected Literary Criticism (Mercury Books: London, 1964), p. 88.

[2] Lawrence, ‘Introduction’, p.86.

[3] S. Beckett, ‘Waiting for Godot’ in Samuel Beckett, The Complete Dramatic Works (London: Faber & Faber, 1986), p. 83.

[4] Lawrence, ‘Introduction’, p.88.

The Hero of Eastwood:
D.H. Lawrence (1885-1930)