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Once again I will probably be posting fewer and shorter blog entries this week, as I intend to be spending a lot of time writing the short story for my writers group's six stories in six week project.
The little 900-word story I submitted last week appears to be a failure since I have received only two responses about it. They were positive responses, though. That means that I should work a bit harder on this week's story, I suppose.
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Born On This Day
Langston Hughes
1902–1967
Below is a poem written 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?
Read more about Langston Hughes here
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Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history.
--Plato
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