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Young Writers Society


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While you ponder this, enjoy a poem:


Harlem (1951)
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?


Sometimes poetry is inspired by the conversation entered into by reading other poems.
— John Barton