What if famous poets wrote poems whose titles were anagrams of their own names? This important question is answered at this Modern Humorist page. I enjoy the restrained anxiety captured in "Toilets," by T. S. Eliot:
Let us go then, to the john,Can you guess who wrote the poems "Skinny Domicile" and "I Will Alarm Islamic Owls?"
Where the toilet seat waits to be sat upon
Like a lover's lap perched upon ceramic;
Let us go, through doors that do not always lock,
Which means you ought to knock
Lest opening one reveal a soul within
Who'll shout, "Stay out! Did you not see my shin,
Framed within the gap twixt floor and stall?"
No, I did not see that at all.
That is not what I saw, at all.
To the stall the people come to go,
Reading an obscene graffito.
We have lingered in the chamber labeled "Men"
Till attendants proffer aftershave and mints
As we lather up our hands with soap, and rinse.