If I Were a Poet

Just an ounce of that snakebite I took; I feel better now -- I can write. My thoughts are inking out, oozing out of the dry heart with efforts, Like an 'would-be' mother pushing her baby out. A little ounce of that stuff -- That made my head turning gyroscopically Making heaven and earth messy -- Like a top, spinning in indistinguishable colors. Just a little ounce of that stuff -- That made me bold and write shamelessly. Am I impulsive; Am I a poet? 'Misconception', should I call it. A poet is not grown out of the rubbish pile Of impulsive words. A poet is a civilization in itself; An insightful glance into seeing what others miss out. He/ she knows the science of writing That dips down into the human hemisphere Of raw ingredients, forming life and history. Poetry is a diary of wisdom, Rejects fantasy and reforms life. So, I simply wish --I were a poet?