This morning, Rodrigo and I were eating toast at the kitchen table and we did a little writing exercise that resulted in two poems. As neither of us is a poet, we spontaneously founded 'The Little Club of Terrible Poets.'
That gave us permission to write freely -and badly.

When we both went through the exercise resulting in our poems, we read them and shared.
He said: "You should put this in your blog." I nodded. "This is bad, and it makes me feel too exposed." And he said: "Your tone of voice in your stories is great, but it also has a quirkiness to it that makes it safe to hide behind." He pointed at my poem and said: "This is pure, this is you."

So I hereby present the two first ever poems of The Little club of Terrible Poets:

El regreso
Tenía el sabor agridulce del final del verano
De final de fiesta y vuelta a la seguridad a lo conocido, a los afectos.
Pero nunca se vuelve igual que cuando se marcha, y más que nunca estaba dispuesto a avanzar en su escritura y escribir, escribir, escribir, escribir como si eso fuera todo lo que existe en el cosmos.
Como una deida de las letras que creara realidad a partir de sus caleidoscopios fantasías.
~Rodrigo

A Writer’s dream –or nightmare

A hurricane spews words
spews doubt and failure
Fail
From failure grows
new words
A gentle flow
A booklet of beauty
My book
~Talia