Truly Pathetic

By Neal Bowers b. 1948 Neal Bowers
Lately, the weather aches;
the air is short of breath,
and morning stumbles in, stiff-jointed.

Day by day, the sun bores the sky,
until the moon begins
its tiresome disappearing act,
making the oceans yawn.

Even the seasons change
with a throb of weariness—
bud, bloom, leaf, fall.

If it would help,
I would paint my house silver
or sell it or buy
a red convertible.

I would, but who am I
to try to cheer up
the self-indulgent universe.

Source: Poetry (July 1999).


This poem originally appeared in the July 1999 issue of Poetry magazine

July 1999
 Neal  Bowers


Neal Bowers grew up in Clarksville, Tennessee. He received a PhD from the University of Florida and taught for many years at Iowa State University in Ames, Iowa. He has written novels, nonfiction, and several collections of poetry, including Night Vision (1992) and Out of the South (2002), which won the Society of Midland Authors 2002-03 Poetry Prize. Set in rural Tennessee, the book captures the experience of growing up in the . . .

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Poem Categorization

SUBJECT Living, Disappointment & Failure, Stars, Planets, Heavens, Humor & Satire, Nature, Arts & Sciences, Weather

POET’S REGION U.S., Southern

Poetic Terms Imagery, Allusion, Mixed

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