I’ve never been very poetic. For the most part, poetry puts me to sleep faster than a broadway musical (or an author who takes things way too seriously). But I do have two favorites I’d like to share:

“There was an old fellow named Sidney,
Who drank til he ruined a kidney.
It shriveled and shrank,
He drank and he drank.
but he had his fun doing it, didn’t he?”

“What’ll you have, said the waiter,
As he stood there picking his nose,
A hard boiled egg, you sonofabitch,
You can’t put your finger on those.”