I did read a poem on the night's main topic, São Paulo (it was the city's 452th anniversary), which people liked, but isn't really nothing exceptional. The performance I was going to do with my group didn't happen, very unfortunately, as there was simply NO group--only me. It was heartbreaking, because that poem was so fucking brilliant, and we missed an incredible chance to perform it to 120 Poetry lovers.
Now I leave you with a portion of a poem the great William Wordsworth wrote about the poet's job:
How does the Meadow-flower its bloom unfold?
Because the lovely little flower is free
Down to its root, and, in that freedom, bold;
And so the grandeur of the Forest-tree
Comes not by casting in a formal mould,
But from its own divine vitality.