Monday, April 29, 2013

April is National Poetry Month, #29


(I love Langston Hughes - a classic)

Harlem  

BY LANGSTON HUGHES
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?

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