Dazzled speechless–an alchemist without implements–one thinks of poetry as divine fire, a perquisite of the gods. When under the spell of admiration or gratitude, I have hazarded a line, it never occurred to me that anyone might think I imagined myself a poet. As said previously, if what I write is called poetry it is because there is no other category in which to put it.
Marianne Moore, in her little essay “Subject, Predicate, Object”. Vocab note: “perquisite” means “a tip, gratuity”.