can i even call my self a poet?

  can i even blend words to help convey a message?
can i even begin to use phrases to bring about a lesson?
      can i even shape the landscape for my muse?
  when other wordsmiths battle with use
while i lay here muttering
     still trying to find my pieces broken and some
  because in all honesty i do not create poems
  i create mumblings better left on read
that wont bring about another fuse
   wont light up the world as ive given age
   all these ramblings are filled with base,
silly endevors that i've slowly put together
  while others have been well on their way
to give birth to greatness