ARTS 23
The Epoch Times
SEPTEMBER 12 – 18, 2012
Poetry analysis: ‘Dream Deferred’
by Langston Hughes
Arthur Christopher
Schaper
Langston Hughes, one of
the leaders of the early
1900s Harlem Renaissance,
pushed the “black experience” beyond segregation
and discrimination – from
the back of the bus to front
of the anthologies. His
poems are read and enjoyed
in classrooms throughout
the country to this day.
So pervasive has been the
influence of his work, the
line “a raisin in the sun”
became the title of the
acclaimed play by Lorraine
Hansberry.
“What happens to a
dream deferred?”
“Defer” at its core signals
difference and delay, and
dreams inevitably contain
the germ of tardiness, or
otherwise they would not
be dreams, but present and
apparent realities.
“What happens” suggests
that dreams just sit around
and wait. Dreams do not
exist in and of themselves,
but are the product and profession of another, in the
febrile mind of a fun man
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 (1902-1967)
or the feverish demand of a
weak personality.
Dream deferred, the alliteration of noun and verb,
announces the start and
finish of this poem, the
central goal of all that is
taking place in this poem.
Yet what does happen to
a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
A raisin in the sun, rays
in the sun – the sun’s rays
make the grape more sweet,
more tough. Raisins last a
long time and do not go bad.
In the Bible, raisins are a
sensuous source of strength:
“Stay me with flagons [lit.
raisin cakes], comfort me
with apples: for I am sick of
love.” (Song of Solomon 2:5)
Raisins speak of sus-
tenance, restoration, the
culmination of great joy;
just as time must pass for
the grape to dry into a more
delicious fruit.
Or fester like a sore–
And then run?
A sore that festers – what
a ghastly sight! This grim
image imparts to the reader
the lingering pain of a
dream that waits to be realised, that waits to take place,
that waits and waits, and
then it runs. Yet in so sickening a sight, the notion of
a “running sore” indirectly
implies life and opportunity. A sore that runs is a
mess that heals and in the
same vein, a dream deferred
will not remain ignored, but
will break forth in the life of
a man.
Does it stink like rotten
meat?
Rotten meat, stinking
like the sore, is waiting to be
thrown away. Yet meat that
rots, meat the stinks, is meat
in which new life also lives.
For what makes this stench
so strong is the new creation
of airborne life landing on a
piece of flesh. Does the poet
see this life? Does he see the
seething meat as anything
more than an eyesore?
Or crust and sugar over–
like a syrupy sweet?
Now the poet rhymes
meat with sweet. So much
time is spent on the sound
“ee” – is the dream, then,
something to eat? Or does
the dream still eat at the
dreamer? “Crust,” a covering, protects the dream.
“Sugar over” the crust is and
does, a symbol both active
and passive, that the “dream
deferred” is neither lost nor
forlorn. The dream gets
bigger, gets smaller, but will
not be static and stay still.
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
A dream that sags will
not be still. The dream will
not stay, like the smell, good
or bad, that flies invisible
from the sore, the meat or
the raisins so sweet. Is this
heavy load a burden that
goes nowhere? The dream
is a saggy dream that does
more than “just” nothing –
only this bag “justly” sags.
Or does it explode?
Dreams that explode,
come to pass or pass
through mind and heart,
pressing past the staunch,
stench sticking to the walls.
The raisin does not explode,
except in the mouth of a dry
and weary traveller, renews
his strength, gives him ease
for the journey. The dream
is now alive, refused to be
put away. Not rotten, not
running, not run down, but
ready to be read.
Dream Deferred draws
out the dreams deferred
in a reader. When the poet
poses the question, the
reader goes from wondering to pondering. The poem
says a lot, like the rotting
meat, teeming with life
while seeming lifeless, like
the dream that waits to be
realised.
The poem is so sweet, so
juicy, unlike the dry raisin,
yet just as tasty. The little
poem backs a big bomb
punch, “explodes” in the
mind and beckons deferred
dreams to fruition.
Arthur Christopher Schaper
is an author and teacher who
lives in Torrance, Calif. He
writes several blogs, including
Schaper’s Corner (aschaper1.
blogspot.com).
Reading art: Laocoön and his sons
Wim Van Aalst
“The road to hell is paved
with good intentions” is a
common expression. Having
good intentions is, of course,
better than harbouring malicious ones, but who hasn’t
caused a mess at one point
in their life, despite their
good intentions? Good intentions don’t always yield good
results nor are they necessarily truly good.
What is the story behind
this sculpture? After years
of war, the Greeks came up
with the cunning plan to
hide their troops in a huge
wooden horse outside Troy
and had Sinon, a Greek spy,
convince the Trojans that the
horse had magical powers.
The suspicious Trojan
priest Laocoön, however,
tried his utmost to persuade
his fellow citizens to burn
the horse. Suddenly, he was
struck with blindness. As he
continued to try to persuade
his brethren, one of the
Greek gods (according to different versions of the story,
this deity could be either
Athena, Apollo or Poseidon)
summoned a handful of
deadly sea serpents to devour
Laocoön and his two sons.
The Trojans interpreted
this event as a punishment
Courtesy of BEJAN Design
Laocoön and His Sons .
from the gods for Laocoön’s
throwing a spear at the
wooden horse. So they
promptly decided to haul the
horse into the city.
Thus, Heaven’s will
decreed that the Trojans
would be defeated. What
seemed the right thing for
Laocoön to do wasn’t what
history wanted or needed to
happen. Yet he meant so well.
This large statue depicting
Laocoön and his sons dates
back to the first century BC
and was excavated in Rome
in 1506. Roman author
Pliny the Elder attributes
the statue to three sculptors
from the island of Rhodes:
Agesander, Athenodoros and
Polydorus. It has been copied
numerous times and has
been in the possession of the
Vatican Museums since 1816.
Looking at the helpless
trio in their death throes,
wrestling with the tentacles
of their doom, I find this
scene a bit disturbing, yet
without overstepping the
boundaries of good taste.
The whirling rhythm of
limbs and serpents’ bodies
has our eyes dancing about
the scene and contrasts
nicely with the vertical lines
of the draperies, the symbol
of their downfall.
Laocoön is painfully
exposed on a throne of his
self-inflicted doom, while
his two sons, the unwilling victims of their father’s
actions, look to him for help
– but it’s too late.
A subject of debate about
this sculpture has been the
fact that while Greek literature compares Laocoön’s
“horrendous cries” with the
“bellowing of a wounded
bull”, here he seems to be
moaning rather than screaming with terror.
The most probable explanation is what 18th-century
writer, philosopher and art
critic G.E. Lessing argued,
namely, that portraying
Laocoön with a wide-open
mouth – truly bellowing
– would have made the
sculpture simply too painful
to enjoy.
Furthermore, such a
depiction would have made
it hard on the viewer to experience anything beyond the
horror at the surface. As it
is, the statue not only grips
our attention, but it also has
an emotional buffer to allow
us to contemplate the theme
behind the image: how we
sometimes get defeated – or
even harm others – because
of uncalled for, or unwarranted, “good” intentions.
Acting on uncalled-for
good intentions is a pattern
that humankind, deceived
as much as ever, still hasn’t
managed to outgrow,
despite its dazzling scientific
progress.
Wim Van Aalst has a master’s
degree in publicity and graphic
design. He is a self-taught
painter and teaches students in
traditional oil painting techniques.
Bowral & District Art Society, 1 Short St, Bowral
12 - 18 September 2012, 10am - 4pm
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light refreshments served.
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