I occasionally draft a poem. They are more like really bad attempts at poems. But I have a laugh wile writing them so here's one to make you cringe, scowl, laugh...
The Dodgy Sonnet
There was a writer who wrote bad sonnets,
He started them like a limerick should,
He picked a wrong word so he wrote bonnets,
He clouted the form with a block of wood,
For all his inane messing around,
For his butchering of the noble form,
He discovered something oddly profound —
The proper writer in him was born.
Because poetry needs structure and style,
It needs pacing and rhythm, you might say.
He began to write poems with a smile,
Yes, he did get proper carried away,
And with that he thought he was a poet,
Fair to say, this poem doesn’t show it.