by Langston Hughes 




Harlem


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 it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode? 

 

Source: www.loc.gov

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Poetry by Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2016-01-03 at 00:01

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Langston Hughes is bae
2016-01-05



it's just a dream
maybe it's not your own
just as what you see
on tv ads
maybe it's your colleague
with the last iphone
it's just a dream
you feed, the one
of the creator
2016-01-03


one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
NEVER worse than now!
2016-01-03


one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
there are no illusions. mr. hughes wrote this in 1951, when there was a dream of justice. no one could pretend that dream is still alive. deferred, dried up, festering, stinking and rotten, crusted and sugared over, sagged—all of it, and none of it. it's simply gone. this country failed to live up to its potential and responsibility, religion and intolerance and fear and greed were what mr. hughes couldn't have imagined continuing, and continuing, and continuing, and after a glimmer of hope in the sixties, it has only gotten worse, no worse than now.
2016-01-03