On Poetry: Langston Hughes

In my last entry, I mentioned a dream deferred, which of course got me to thinking about the Langston Hughes poem by the same name, so I thought I’d share for anyone unfamiliar with it:

“Dream Deferred” 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?