I recently read some of Tim Burton's poetry. And while I am usually belligerent towards anyone who feels they can use their fame, or notoriety, to attempt to succeed in another field, I actually quite enjoyed this little book of ornate poetry.
Here's a little sample:
The collection of poems is called The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy, and although it's not Yeates, Keats or Wordsworth, it is certainly entertaining and isn't the worst way to spend your day.
