Author: Kenn Nesbitt

Welcome to Poetry4kids. I’m Kenn Nesbitt.

One of the things that I enjoy most about writing poems is playing with words—especially when a word sounds like something else entirely. Today’s poem is one of those where the idea came from imagining a mix-up… the kind of mix-up that might happen if you were shopping for something high-tech and got something completely unexpected instead. This is…

My Smelly Telephone

My telephone is smelly.
It’s a smelly telephone.
I wish it didn’t stink but
it’s the only one I own.

I thought I bought a smartphone
that was also cellular.
It seems that’s not exactly what
they meant by “smellular.”

And so, I learned the hard way
what I didn’t know before…
They don’t sell normal cellphones
when you’re at the smellphone store.

— Kenn Nesbitt

Welcome to Poetry4kids. I’m Kenn Nesbitt.

Sometimes a poem begins with just a sound—two words that almost rhyme, or a funny phrase that gets stuck in my head. That’s what happened with today’s poem. I started playing with the sounds of two familiar words, and before long, I found myself wondering, “What if there were a place where people celebrated one of these things instead of the other?” Though the result may seem a little bizarre, I had so much fun writing it that I just had to share it. This is…

An Oyster Celebration.

There’s an Oyster celebration
every year in Oyster Bay,
when the Oyster Bunny brings
his Oyster eggs on Oyster Day.

They put their Oyster clothes on,
Oyster morning, getting dressed
in their brand-new Oyster bonnets
and their Oyster Sunday best.

They watch the Oyster Day parade
go marching through the streets,
and enjoy their Oyster baskets
filled with tasty Oyster treats.

They listen to the Oyster sermon
given by the priest,
then they have an Oyster egg hunt
and prepare their Oyster feast.

It might seem odd to you and me,
but this is just the way
that they celebrate on Oyster Island
every Oyster Day.

— Kenn Nesbitt

Welcome to Poetry4kids. I’m Kenn Nesbitt.

The seasons are changing, and it feels like winter is finally over—but spring hasn’t really started yet. Where my sister lives, people like to say they have only three seasons: summer, winter, and mud. I always thought that was a funny way to describe this in-between time of year, when the snow is melting, the ground is wet and messy, and everything turns to sludge.

So I decided to write a poem celebrating the muddy, splashy, sock-soaking season that comes right before the flowers bloom and the trees start to bud. For kids who love jumping in puddles and getting a little dirty, it might just be the best season of all!

Splash!

The snow is gone.
Outside I dash.
I jump up high
and then I SPLASH!

A spray of sludge
goes everywhere.
It cakes my clothes
and hands and hair.

I stomp around
in mucky ooze.
It soaks my socks.
It fills my shoes.

It’s such an awesome
time of year
before the signs
of spring appear.

Before new leaves
and flowers bud,
we have my favorite season:
MUD!

— Kenn Nesbitt