Where do you keep all these people?
The shoemaker with his rumpled cough.
The man who twisted straws into brooms.
My teacher, oh my teacher. I will always cry
when I think of my teacher.
The olive farmer who lost every inch of ground,
every tree,
who sat with head in his hands
in his son's living room for years after.
I tucked them into my drawer with cuff links and bow ties.
Touched them each evening before I slept.
Wished them happiness and peace.
Peace in the heart. No wonder we all got heart trouble.
But justice never smiled on us. Why didn't it?
I tried to get Americans to think of them.
But they were too involved with their own affairs
to imagine ours. And you can't blame them, really.
How much do I think of Africa? I always did feel sad
in the back of my mind for places I didn't
have enough energy to worry about.
Lovely and true. People are themselves too absorbed to worry about other people. I guess thats why poets are so important. Our poems are a constant reminder to people of some inconvenient things they would rather not think about. This poem is a great example.
And great job remembering me in Africa. Know we are here!
" How much i think of Africa? " Memories. 🤗☺️✍ Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
No wonder we all got heart trouble. But justice never smiled on us. Why didn't it? I tried to get Americans to think of them. But they were too involved with their own affairs to imagine ours........greatly wrote about the immodest rules of superpower countries///
'How much do I think of Africa? I always did feel sad in the back of my mind for places I didn't have enough energy to worry about.' - The conscience of humanity speaks here. Heartiest congratulations on your poem's selection as the 'Modern Poem of the Day'!
There is emotional attachment of a student with teacher. A student understands the value of a teacher. This is so sad that olive farmer lost his ground. This poem makes us emotional. This is a nice modern poem of the day chosen....
I always did feel sad in the back of my mind for places I didn't have enough energy to worry about. - - - - - - - > a lot of people feel this way... and do nothing and the starving children continue to starve
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The olive farmer who lost every inch of ground, every tree, who sat with head in his hands in his son's living room for years after. very fine poem. tony