Author: Kenn Nesbitt

I came up with the last word of this poem earlier this year. It’s what’s called a portmanteau word, which means a made-up word created by blending two real words together, like combining breakfast and lunch to make the word “brunch.”

Now, at the time, it was the beginning of June, and writing a Halloween poem in the middle of spring didn’t make much sense. So I just jotted the word down in my notes and waited. Now that October is here, I thought it was the perfect time to see if I could turn that one silly word into a whole poem, and this is what I came up with.

Sticky Sweet Trick-or-Treat

I went trick-or-treating.
I only got stuff
with marshmallows in it
or marshmallow fluff.

My basket was filled up
with Rice Krispies Treats,
s’mores, Peeps, and Moon Pies,
and other such sweets,
like cocoa with marshmallows
floating on top,
a rocky road bar,
and a marshmallow pop.

I’m not sure what happened.
I guess this must mean
I went trick-or-treating
on Marshmalloween.

— Kenn Nesbitt

When October comes around each year, I love writing Halloween poems—especially about monsters, haunted houses, and trick-or-treating. Some of these poems are a little spooky, but most are just meant to be silly and fun, like this one. I started imagining what it might be like if Dracula and his monster friends hosted a Halloween celebration of their own. What would they do if you came knocking on their door? I hope you enjoy the answer.

At Dracula’s Mansion

At Dracula’s mansion, on Halloween night,
the monsters are hiding inside, out of sight.
They patiently wait till the moment is right,
the moment you ring the front bell.

They’ll throw the door open and put on a show,
some magic in front of the pumpkins’ warm glow.
And you’ll have a seat in the very front row
as they cast their magical spell.

The ghost will perform his new vanishing act.
The witch will pull black rabbits out of her hat.
Count Dracula simply turns into a bat
as you’re bravely waiting for sweets.

You might find it scary to be in this fix.
But monsters… well, that’s the way they get their kicks.
At Dracula’s mansion, they always do tricks,
before they give out any treats.

— Kenn Nesbitt

One of the things I’ve loved ever since I was a kid is playing with language; making up silly words, twisting familiar phrases, and asking questions that don’t always have logical answers. I grew up reading nonsense poems like “Jabberwocky” by Lewis Carroll and “The Owl and the Pussycat” by Edward Lear, and I still remember the tongue twisters and silly songs my dad used to recite, like “Fuzzy Wuzzy Was a Bear” and “Mairzy Doats.” Those kinds of playful poems and songs sparked something in me, and they’ve inspired many of the poems I’ve written since.

A few nights ago, just as I was drifting off to sleep, a strange question popped into my head: If it’s a farmer’s job to farm and a teacher’s job to teach, is it a butler’s job to “butle?” It made me laugh so much that I grabbed my phone and jotted it down before I could forget. When I looked at it the next morning, I still thought it was fun. So I ran with it and turned it into a poem.

I hope you enjoy the result as much as I enjoyed writing it.

It’s a Farmer’s Job to Farm

It’s a farmer’s job to farm,
and it’s a teacher’s job to teach.
It’s a dancer’s job to dance,
and it’s a preacher’s job to preach.

But do butlers have to butle,
and do barbers have to barb?
Does a butcher have to butch,
and does a harbor have to harb?

Does a grocer have to groce,
and does a doctor have to doct?
Is a scholar’s job to schol,
and is a proctor’s job to proct?

Does a dollar have to doll
and does the thunder always thund?
If you know, then you’re a wonder,
and your job must be to wond.

— Kenn Nesbitt