To make you feel more comfortable about posting, here is the poem I had published in a children's anthology when I was eight. Technically this qualifies me as a 'poet', but I've never used any of the perks associated with the title (excessive cardigan-wearing, chain-smoking, manic depression):
Sang The Frog
Toadstool flares and leopard hairs
All go into my soup.
Toadstool flares, leopard hairs and metal pears
All go into my soup.
Sang the Frog.
Toadstool flares, leopard hairs,
Metal pears and carrots from the bog
All go into my soup.
Toadstool flares, leopard hairs, metal pears,
Carrots from the bog and the bark of a log
All go into my soup.
Sang the Frog.
I sit here on my trusty log
Listening to the bark of a dog.
Sang the frog.
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