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 Title   [ Click any title below to view poem ]  Poet More From Poet  Date
 The Have Nots unknownpoet        (More) 7/25/2014
 Influenced By a Half Moon AlwaysMyWords        (More) 7/25/2014
 Broken Sonnets lotusmoon        (More) 7/25/2014
 Region Of Wonder Rita        (More) 7/25/2014
  Drops Of Life Rita        (More) 7/25/2014
 Midnight Rendezvous Once More AlwaysMyWords        (More) 7/25/2014
 You're a Poet and You Know It AlwaysMyWords        (More) 7/25/2014
 Your Average Mr. Joe mizclaws        (More) 7/25/2014
 Oh What Wickedness SandraVeinot        (More) 7/25/2014
 DILEMMA satishverma        (More) 7/24/2014
 Her Fingerprints Myrna D.        (More) 7/24/2014
 Uncle Jack maryfrances        (More) 7/24/2014
 HIS poetalthomas        (More) 7/24/2014
 ROM poetalthomas        (More) 7/24/2014
 ROD poetalthomas        (More) 7/24/2014
 ...enough unknownpoet        (More) 7/24/2014
 Cop Haters unknownpoet        (More) 7/24/2014
 love shadow Insync        (More) 7/24/2014
 ASK SOMEONE ELSE The_Pip        (More) 7/24/2014
 The Seed Of Life Rita        (More) 7/24/2014
 As The World Turns Rita        (More) 7/24/2014
 Wine and Words Unsaid AlwaysMyWords        (More) 7/24/2014
 Goddess.... mizclaws        (More) 7/24/2014
 Heart to Heart Suvasini        (More) 7/24/2014
 ECSTASY satishverma        (More) 7/23/2014
 Her first words norma okun        (More) 7/23/2014
 Tarnished Star unknownpoet        (More) 7/23/2014
 NOT IN AMERICA The_Pip        (More) 7/23/2014
 LOOK AT ME The_Pip        (More) 7/23/2014
 ADVICE 16 The_Pip        (More) 7/23/2014

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The Have Nots

Imaging ourselves the sole recipients of life’s adversities, we whine and we cry, and we curse our misfortune.
Obstacles to our happiness and success are seemingly scattered strategically upon our every pathway. As we bemoan our selective misfortune, somewhere across town despair truly exists, and malnourished children, their tears exhausted, languish in the stupor of hopelessness, their mothers crying in their stead.
The great wonder of this age is that the affluent always want more, believing themselves somehow deprived or maligned by fate. From the advent of civilization the poor have been the most cursed of mankind, and yet the more blessed.
Those of a lower social and economic station know the genuine joys of life’s little pleasures. Whether an old, dilapidated automobile that actually runs, or a hand-me-down pair of serviceable shoes, those living in poverty are thankful for the small blessings.
Might not our lives be more meaningful could we all see through the eyes of the have-nots.

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