All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
A Nonsensical Poem With A Sensory Type
Whatever happens to a dream deferred?
Does it take a step to the reference section,
Maybe hoping to step in,
To someone else's mind for a time.
Maybe it escapes like a sound,
Spellbound by someone else's dream.
And they combine,
To make soemthing new.
Or maybe the dream just hides away,
Tucked in the back of your head.
Instead of leaving it stays,
It whispers and it prays
For your attention.
Or like Langston Hughes said,
"Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore and then run."
Like an image,
Never leaves your present perception,
A clear line of scrimmage,
A cultural deception,
A preconception,
Of what it should be
In your eyes.
Maybe the dream stays behind,
A smell leftover
A stench takeover
In case your blind.
"Does it stink like rotten meat?"
Or sweat against a car seat,
Or maybe Double Delight Tea.
An acidic aroma
Left over from the colosseum in Roma.
Maybe the dream
Is on your tongue,
A taste leftover
From when you were young
"The crust and sugar
Of a syrupy sweet."
The wonderful taste
Of a candy treat,
Or maybe just sour
Like the wrong happy hour.
Maybe what happens
To a dream deferred.
It stays around,
Anchored to the ground, like a heavy load
With you.
A feeling on the dge of your grasp
That makes your hair stand on end
With a gasp.
The touch of breath
Upon your neck.
Or maybe, just maybe
The dream is in your ear.
Whispering a sound you can barely hear
Reminding you of what you were
And when you remember, or maybe you dont
The clock stops ticking,
And then it explodes.
So my advice is
Take the opportunities when they come,
Grab em and run!
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.
I wrote this inspired by the poem "What happens to a Dream Deferred?" by Langston Hughes. It is such a powerful poem, I just wanted to try my best to expand on the beauty of it all.