Author: Kenn Nesbitt

When I’m writing a poem, I often know how it’s going to end long before I know how it’s will begin. It’s a little like taking a road trip. You don’t usually hop in the car and start driving without a destination in mind. First, you decide where you want to go. Then you figure out how to get there. You might take a wrong turn or two along the way, but if you keep your destination in sight, you’ll eventually arrive.

This poem came together much the same way. The ending popped into my head first, and I knew I wanted to build a poem that would lead naturally to it. The challenge was finding just the right beginning and then connecting all the dots in between. Fortunately, I had two very cooperative octopuses to help me get there. I hope you enjoy it. This is…

Octo-Pair

An octopus walking along the sea floor
was startled to look up and see,
an octopus she’d not encountered before
and cried, “Why, you look just like me!”

He also exclaimed, with a look of surprise,
“Your face looks like mine in the mirror.
We have the same siphons and suckers and eyes.
We’re siblings! That couldn’t be clearer.

“Our tentacles also are all the same size,
with all the same spots on the skin.
It’s plain as can be from the arms and the eyes
that you’re my eye-tentacle twin.”

— Kenn Nesbitt

When I was a kid, it seems like I was always getting in trouble with my parents for misbehaving. The funny thing is, I usually didn’t think I was doing anything wrong. I was just having fun. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to kick the newly planted flowers in the garden or chew on the edge of the dining room table. Somehow, though, my parents always disagreed. Those childhood memories were the inspiration for this poem, although once I started writing, the idea quickly took on a life of its own. I hope you enjoy it, and if you’ve ever gotten into trouble without quite understanding why, you might just recognize a little of yourself in this one.

I Might Have Misbehaved Today

Mom asked me when I misbehaved.
I said, “I’m not quite certain.
It may have been this morning when
I tried to climb the curtain.

“It might have been at lunch
while throwing pudding at the wall.
Or maybe when I shattered
several windows with my ball.

“Or maybe when my undies clogged
the toilet once again.
I might have misbehaved today.
I’m just not certain when.”

My mother wasn’t happy with
that answer that I gave.
From now on I’ll keep better track
of when I misbehave.

— Kenn Nesbitt

For this poem, I decided to revisit an idea I’d played with years ago in a Christmas poem that I co-wrote with my friend Linda Knaus. In that poem, “Christmas Has Its Ups and Downs,” we had fun using lots of words containing “up” and “down” to tell the story. I thought it would be amusing to create a summertime counterpart using “in” and “out” instead.

My family recently went to a couple of baseball games, and it struck me that baseball is full of “in” and “out” words: innings, infield, outfield, strikeout, and many more. It seemed like the perfect sport for this kind of wordplay.

I challenged myself to squeeze as many “in” and “out” words and phrases into the poem as possible while still telling a simple story about a family enjoying a day at the ballpark. In the end, it all builds to a rather silly phrase that makes me smile every time I say it.

See if you can spot all the different “in” and “out” words hidden throughout the poem. You might even discover a few more than I intended!

Out to the Ball Game

We drove out to the baseball game
to have a weekend outing.
If we’d stayed in instead of going out,
we’d all be pouting.

The game sold out but we got in.
We took in every inning.
We cheered and shouted in the stands.
Our team was out there winning!

They got in one last strikeout
and we cheered them as they won.
The game let out and we drove in.
That outing sure was fun!

And what we figured out,
in all the cheering and the shouting,
is that there’s nothing better
than a weekend inning outing.

— Kenn Nesbitt

I wrote this poem because I’m due for a haircut next week, and I have reached that awkward stage where my hair feels just a little too long. It’s not quite wild enough to be a problem, but it’s long enough that I find myself looking forward to my appointment and wishing it would get here sooner.

At the same time, summer has finally arrived. After months of cool, rainy weather, the idea of spending time outdoors on a warm, sunny day sounded especially appealing. That got me wondering: what if there were a barber who worked outside instead of inside a shop? Before long, I had imagined Benny Buzzcut, a barber who gives haircuts in his back yard and has become so popular that people come from all over to visit him.

As often happens with my poems, I started with a silly idea and then followed it wherever it wanted to go. Along the way, Benny’s little back yard business grew bigger and busier, and the poem eventually found its own amusing ending. I hope you enjoy meeting Benny Buzzcut as much as I enjoyed writing about him.