Fiona Sampson

(1963 / London)

The Lodger - Poem by Fiona Sampson

You could figure it as a trapdoor,
blur of hinge and
down
into the unconscious of this stranger
moving around your garden like a trap—
making all the greens unstable
as the warble of nausea come bang up to greet you.
Bang to rights
is how he'd like to have your house. Cuckoo,
wool-wearing garden-dweller,
new-age Salvationist, holy among your cow-parsley
and roses.
Meanwhile, the unaccustomed heat.
Meanwhile, a sky tunnelling upward—
sense of proportion—golden section
of elder hedge; then the disgraceful paddock gone wild.


Comments about The Lodger by Fiona Sampson

  • Bernard F. Asuncion (10/14/2016 7:29:00 PM)

    The Lodger
    Congratulations, Ma'am Fiona for being chosen as modern poem of the day..... (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Seamus O' Brian (10/14/2016 9:33:00 AM)


    I'm not sure about this one—the meaning—I mean. I'm somewhat dense on the metaphors at times. I love the imagery and certainly enjoy a stroll in the gardens. There's something sinister at work here, though, something threatening to take over the garden. Is it a pest? A parasite? Chaos?

    Well done, anyway, and will keep me wondering.

    Perhaps my fellow PH colleagues can elucidate?
    (Report) Reply

  • Edward Kofi Louis (10/14/2016 9:14:00 AM)

    Shelter
    To have your house. Thanks for sharing this poem with us. (Report) Reply

  • Malcolm Two (10/14/2016 7:25:00 AM)


    I like this poem, thanks for sharing (Report) Reply

  • Subhas Chandra Chakra (10/14/2016 1:43:00 AM)


    down
    into the unconscious of this stranger
    moving around your garden like a trap—
    making all the greens unstable
    as the warble of nausea come bang up to greet you.
    Bang to rights
    is how he'd like to have your house.
    Nice work.
    (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, October 13, 2016

Poem Edited: Thursday, October 13, 2016


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