Monday, February 9, 2009

A Dream Deferred

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe is just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
—Langston Hughes
Time and again, I am drawn to the poetry of Langston Hughes. This wonderful poet of the Harlem Renaissance speaks in a language common to us all, transcending race and time.

1 comment:

Angela2932 said...

He certainly has vivid imagery! I love the photo of Rina and MaryAnn. . . . makes me homesick! Can't wait to see all of you in May!