Opening Poem; Langston Hughes' Dream Deferred

Dream Deferred

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?

Langston Hughes

My friends and I welcome you to Soul Finger. This our place to wax eloquent, to rant, to make each other laugh, and to write, as a would-be writer flutters in the chest of us all. This blog for me, is a tiny concession to dreams deferred; to the brilliant and famous musician, champion ballroom dancer, celebrated writer, and cunning ninja that I would or could have been.

I think this is going to be fun.