Many Asked Me Not to Forget Them Comments

It's the sad reality of life. Most people are only ever concerned with the corners of their world . That to think of anyone outside their sphere is improbable. Beautifully expressed

Thanks for this sharing

'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

I loved reading this poem. Good job.

And great job remembering me in Africa. Know we are here!

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.

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..........How very very sad. God will ultimately decide as the last, the ones who are innocent, are the weakest and God cares for the weak and broken hearted. Most deserving Modern Poem Of The Day to get the Award from Poem Hunter and Team.CONGRATULATIONS, dear poetess Naomi.5 Stars

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 i think of Africa? " Memories. 🤗☺️✍ Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

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