Category: Podcast

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

Have you ever played around with one of those video filters that makes you look older, or younger, or gives you dog ears, or turns your whole face into a cartoon? Apps like Zoom, Snapchat, and others are filled with tools that can instantly change how you look—just for fun. It made me think about the line from Snow White… “Mirror, Mirror on the wall…” What if that magic mirror still existed, but it used artificial intelligence instead of spells and potions?

That idea got my imagination spinning, and the result was this poem. I hope you enjoy it.

AI Mirror On the Wall

AI mirror on the wall,
show me what I’d look like tall.
Dress me in a suit and hat.
Make my face look like a cat.

Change my skin to turn it blue.
Add a beard and mustache too.
Make me young. Now make me old.
Place me on a pile of gold.

Show me what I’d look like blonde,
with a cape and magic wand.
Make my hair short. Make it long.
Make my muscles big and strong.

Thank you, AI. That was fun.
But for now, I think we’re done.
Turn off AI on the wall.
Normal me is best of all.

— Kenn Nesbitt

I’ve always loved writing poems about unusual characters—kids, teenagers, or even adults who do outrageous things or take ordinary situations and turn them completely upside down. “The Reason Vance Learned How to Dance” is one of those poems. It’s about a kid who puts in a ton of effort for one very specific reason… and then something unexpected happens.

Poems like this are a fun way to play with something called irony—that’s when the outcome is the opposite of what you’d expect. Imagine practicing all year to go swimming and then forgetting your swimsuit on the big day. That’s ironic—and also kind of funny! In this poem, Vance is a kooky character who works hard toward his goal, but things don’t quite go as planned.

Let’s see what happens to Vance as he prepares for his big moment…

The Reason Vance Learned How to Dance

The reason Vance learned how to dance
was for his high school prom.
He knew he needed lessons, so
he went and asked his mom.

She taught him how to jitterbug
and how to lock and pop,
and how to do the Bossa Nova
and the Bunny Hop.

She showed him how to do the Robot
and the Tango too,
the Cha-Cha and the Twist, and the
Electric Boogaloo.

He learned to do the Chicken Dance,
the Moonwalk, and the Mule.
At last he felt that he was ready
for the dance at school.

He’d learned a dozen dances, but
he realized too late
he couldn’t go to prom since he
forgot to ask a date.

— Kenn Nesbitt

One of my favorite tricks for coming up with new poem ideas is to take two simple, unrelated things and combine them into something unexpected. When I’m stuck and don’t know what to write about, I’ll sometimes just look around the room or flip through a book until I find two things that catch my attention. Then I ask myself, “What kind of poem could I write that connects these two things?”

For example, if I spot a puppy and then a piano, I might end up writing a poem called “My Puppy Plays Piano.” That’s exactly how Goldfish Moving Day began. I was flipping through a book when I saw a picture of a goldfish on one page… and later, a moving van on another. I asked myself, “What would it be like if a goldfish had to move?” And from that odd little question, this poem was born.

I hope it sparks your imagination too. And maybe the next time you’re feeling stuck, you’ll try combining two random ideas of your own!

Goldfish Moving Day

My goldfish had a tiny bowl.
He needed one much bigger
to be a truly happy soul
and swim with vim and vigor.

I visited the pet shop where
I bought a new aquarium.
I thought I’d pour his bowl in there.
He asked if I could carry him.

I said, “Hey, wait! So you can speak?
I made that birthday wish!
I blew the candles out last week
to get a talking fish!”

He said, “That’s right. Yes, I can speak.
It’s you I have to thank
for wishing I could talk last week.
Now take me to my tank!”

I did exactly as he said
and picked him up to carry him.
He gasped for air and soon was dead,
and now I have to bury him.

So, on your birthday I suggest
that when you make your wishes,
it’s obviously not the best
to ask for talking fishes.

— Kenn Nesbitt

The other day, I was re-reading my all-time favorite book of poetry, Colin West’s fabulous collection, The Big Book of Nonsense. In Chapter 1, there is a poem simply titled “Knitting.” In Chapter 2, there is a poem called “Octopus.” I was still thinking about the knitting poem when I started reading the octopus poem, and it occurred to me that an octopus who liked to knit would be a funny idea for a poem.

Of course, none of what was in Colin’s poems is in mine. That would be plagiarism (copying someone else’s work), and plagiarism is wrong, wrong, wrong. But it just goes to show you how you can not only find inspiration in the real world, but also in the works of others. Inspiration can come from anywhere, including art, songs, and even other poems. Just make sure to write your own words! Without further ado, here is…

Today I Met an Octopus

Today I met an octopus
who loved to sit and knit.
I watched her weave a woolen cap
and then an oven mitt.

She made a scarf, a pair of gloves,
a sweater, and a shirt,
then turned out several teddy bears,
a blanket, and a skirt.

She made a pillow cover
and pair of knee-high boots,
a hoodie and a tablecloth,
and several three-piece suits.

She made a single slipper next,
and then she made a pair.
She even knitted stockings
and some frilly underwear.

I asked if I could learn to knit.
She told me, “Not right now.
But if you’ll just grow six more arms,
I’ll gladly show you how.”

— Kenn Nesbitt

Sometimes I think of the ending of a poem before I know how it’s going to start. An idea for a good ending can come from anywhere, and sometimes it can even come from a poem someone else wrote. That’s the case with this poem.

The poet Joshual Seigal recently wrote a poem called “Motor Skills.” I loved the ending so much, that I wanted to see if I could write something similar. While his poem and mine are completely different, if you read both of them, you should see how the ending of his poem provided the inspiration for mine.

Also, since this is a poem about shapes, I thought I could also make it a learning experience by including as many common shapes as possible. While everyone knows what a circle and a triangle are, you might not remember what a rhombus or a trapezoid look like. So why not take a moment to refresh your memory.

Triangles Make Me Feel Nervous

Triangles make me feel nervous,
and rectangles make me feel sad.
I’m not at all fond of the rhombus,
and octagons drive me quite mad.

The crescent and heart aren’t my favorites.
The trapezoid’s truly bizarre.
The sphere and the circle are silly.
I’m not a big fan of the star.

Of all of the shapes I can think of,
the square is the best one I’ve found.
I’m always excited to see one.
I like when a square is around.

— Kenn Nesbitt

When I was in elementary school, beginning in about the fourth grade, I was responsible for packing my own lunch every day. I even wrote a poem about it in my book Revenge of the Lunch Ladies called “I’m Getting Sick of Peanut Butter.” In that poem, I complain that my lunch has a peanut butter sandwich in it every day, and I’m getting tired of it. The original ending of that poem was, “You see, it is the only thing that I know how to make.” In other words, I had only myself to blame for the fact that my lunch was always the same thing.

When I submitted the poem to my editor, he argued that children don’t pack their own lunches, and insisted that I change the ending, so it would up as, “You see, it is the only thing my mom knows how to make.” I didn’t like that ending as much, but I could see that we were never going to agree, so I decided to compromise.

Recently, I was thinking about that, and it occurred to me that, even if most kids don’t pack their own lunches every day, they might do it every once in a while. I wondered what would happen if a kid who didn’t normally pack their own lunch suddenly had the opportunity. What might they include? Would they put in every sweet or tasty thing they could find? And that’s how this poem was born.

Today I Packed My Lunch Myself

Today I packed my lunch myself.
I got my lunch box off the shelf
and quickly filled it to the top.
I don’t know why I couldn’t stop.
That’s why I have a soda pop,
an ice cream cone, a lemon drop,
bananas, bacon, gummy bears,
lasagna, licorice, pickles, pears,
a candy bar, a chocolate shake,
an apple pie, a birthday cake,
some chips and dip, a T-bone steak…
I also have a tummy ache.

— Kenn Nesbitt

This poem was inspired by some real-life hair-raising moments in my family. When my daughter was about six years old, she decided, without warning, to cut her own hair one morning before school. Let’s just say the results were… not great. I had to do a quick fix before we dashed out the door. Then, years later, when she was a teenager, she offered to cut her older brother’s hair. That one didn’t go so well either. And, once again, I was the emergency barber. Fortunately, she never tried to cut her parents hair or give the pets a trim. But these memories made me think: what if a kid just couldn’t stop giving haircuts? This is…

My Sister Found Some Scissors

My sister found some scissors.
She climbed up on a chair.
She stood before the mirror
and snipped off all her hair.

She thought it was exciting,
and so, when she was through,
she gave the dog a haircut.
She gave the cat one too.

I even let her cut mine.
She didn’t do too bad.
But when our parents found out,
my goodness, they were mad.

She tried to be a barber.
Now she’s in trouble deep.
She practiced on our parents
while they were both asleep.

— Kenn Nesbitt