Category: Podcast

I wrote this poem in honor of my dear friend, the children’s poet Jack Prelutsky, who turned 84 in recently. Jack was born in 1940, which, according to Chinese astrology, was the Year of the Dragon. Interestingly, his 84th birthday also falls during the Year of the Dragon. You see, in Western astrology, there are twelve zodiac symbols, one each month. In Chinese astrology, however, there are still twelve zodiac symbols, but they celebrate one per year, so each zodiac symbol repeats every twelfth year. 84 is 12 times 7, so there have been seven dragon years since the year Jack was born.

While for people, 84 years is generally considered pretty old, I wanted to draw a playful parallel between Jack’s birth year and the idea that, for a dragon, 84 is still quite young. This poem celebrates that connection and the idea that Jack, like a dragon, is still full of life and energy.

If you would like to read some of Jack’s poems, you can find them on his website at jackprelutsky.com.

Dragon’s Birthday

Today is Dragon’s birthday
when the birthday bells are rung
and the birthday cake is frosted
and the birthday lights are strung.

The birthday cards are scribbled
and the birthday signs are hung
and the birthday gifts are given
and the birthday songs are sung.

The birthday toasts are proffered
and the birthday hats are flung.
Dragon’s eighty-four today and
for a dragon, that is YOUNG.

— Kenn Nesbitt

Do you ever feel like the summer sometimes seems too short? One minute you’re having fun in the pool and the next thing you know, you’re sitting in class practicing spelling and arithmetic. At least, that’s the way it often feels to me. I love the summer, and not just because school is out. I love the sunshine, the warm weather, the fresh fruits, and all the summer activities.

Now, dn’t get me wrong… The other seasons are nice too. But if I had to pick a favorite, it would definitely be summer.

As I was thinking about writing a poem about the summer coming to an end, as it is where I live, I was thinking that it is short as well as summery.
And that’s how the idea for this poem was born. Because it’s such a short poem (much like the idea it expresses), but still has to get the whole idea across, I did have to write several drafts to get it just write. I hope I succeeded and that it brings a smile to your face!

The Summer Isn’t Like a Book

The summer isn’t like a book.
It’s like a book report.
That’s why they call it “summery,”
and why it’s always short.

— Kenn Nesbitt

Hi, I’m Kenn Nesbitt. Welcome to today’s episode of Poetry4kids! With the new school year just starting up here in the U.S., I couldn’t help but think about all those shiny, new back-to-school supplies—new clothes, fresh pencils, spotless notebooks, and clean lunch boxes. There’s something exciting about starting the school year with everything brand new. But as we all know, it doesn’t take long for those new supplies to show a little wear and tear. I wrote this poem to capture what the first week of school is like, from that eager first day to what happens after just a few days of fun and learning. I hope you enjoy it.

The First Week of School

The First Day of School

My pencils are sharpened.
My shirt is brand new.
My pants and my socks and
my sneakers are too.

My folders are empty.
My lunch box is clean.
I’ve got a new phone with
no cracks on the screen.

My notebook is spotless.
My markers are bright.
My scissors are sharp and
my backpack is light.

One Week Later

My pencils are broken.
I tore my new shirt.
My pants, socks, and sneakers
are covered in dirt.

My folders are full and
my lunch box is black.
My notebook is tattered.
My phone has a crack.

My scissors are twisted.
My pack weighs a ton.
My markers are dry.
Man, this week sure was fun!

 — Kenn Nesbitt

With the start of a new school year right around the corner, I thought it would be fun to write a humorous back-to-school poem. While kids often feel sad that summer is over and they have to go back to school, parents sometimes have a different perspective. After a busy summer filled with family activities, parents might secretly look forward to a little peace and quiet when school starts again. This poem plays with that idea, showing how parents can celebrate the end of summer in a way that kids might not expect. I hope it brings a smile to your face as you get ready for the school year ahead!

I also used some poetic techniques to make the poem more engaging. You’ll notice repetition with the line, “Our parents are planning a party,” which helps emphasize the main theme and creates a rhythm that makes the poem fun to read aloud. Additionally, there’s a bit of alliteration, like in the phrases “parents are planning a party” and “celebration as soon the summertime ends,” which adds a playful musicality to the poem. These techniques help bring the poem to life and make it more enjoyable to read!

Our Parents Are Planning a Party

Our parents are planning a party,
a feast for their neighbors and friends.
They’re having a big celebration
as soon as the summertime ends.

Our parents are planning a party.
It’s one that they have every year.
My siblings and I always miss it.
They plan it for when we’re not here.

Our parents are planning a party.
We think it’s a little bit cruel,
that they always throw a big party
the day that we go back to school.

— Kenn Nesbitt

Can you believe I wrote an entire poem just so you could learn a new, funny word. Well, I did, and that word is “borborygmus.” A borborygmus is not only a funny-sounding word, but it’s also the sound your tummy makes when it rumbles, usually because of gas moving in your intestines.

When I sat down to write today, my own tummy started grumbling loudly. That happens sometimes when I’m hungry, but today, my tummy was making a lot of noise and I have no idea why. It got me thinking about all the funny and strange sounds our stomachs can make, and that’s how Iggy was born!

In this poem, I had fun playing with words, using assonance, which is where you repeat vowel sounds like “clearly hear” and “loud, resounding howl.” I also used some alliteration, which means repeating consonant sounds at the beginnings of words, like “grumble and growl,” to make the poem more playful and musical. And of course, there’s a bit of exaggeration—or hyperbole—too, with Iggy’s tummy sounds being compared to thunder and even an earthquake! I hope you enjoy hearing about Iggy as much as I enjoyed writing this poem.

Iggy Borborygmus

He’s Iggy Borborygmus, and
whenever he’s around,
without a doubt, you’ll clearly hear
a tummy rumbling sound.

His gut is always gurgling
with a grumble and a growl.
It’s known to groan and moan
or give a loud, resounding howl.

The noises Iggy’s insides make
are something of a wonder.
You’d likely be forgiven if
you thought that it was thunder.

You heard a herd of elephants?
A hungry grunting piggy?
An earthquake hurling furniture?
That probably was Iggy.

But if you think his stomach makes
a loud and rowdy sound,
when Iggy toots,
you truly do not want to be around.

— Kenn Nesbitt

Welcome to Poetry4kids. I’m Kenn Nesbitt. Today, I want to share a new poem that’s based on a true story.

I have a cat named Reed. You might think I named him that because I like to read, but really it’s because he was rescued from a summer camp called Camp Reed.

When I first got Reed, he was just a tiny kitten. I remember how he loved to play and explore, but one thing he really liked to do was scratch. I don’t mean he liked to scratch the furniture or the curtains. I mean he liked to scratch ME.

Even though Reed is now a full-grown cat, he still scratches me sometimes, especially when he gets tired of me petting him too much. This poem is inspired by my experiences with Reed and how much I love him, despite all the scratches. I hope you enjoy “Brand New Cat.”

Brand New Cat

I got myself a brand new cat,
a teeny-tiny kitten.
She’s smaller than your average cat.
She fits inside a mitten.
I’m so in love with my new cat,
it’s fair to say I’m smitten.
I’m also scratched and scraped and scarred
and sliced and slashed and bitten.

— Kenn Nesbitt

Welcome to today’s episode! I’m excited to share one of my favorite types of poems with you—those that play with idioms. Idioms are fun expressions that mean something different from the literal meanings of the words. For example, if I say “it’s raining cats and dogs,” I don’t mean actual pets are falling from the sky! I just mean that it is raining really, really hard.

In this poem, I’ve taken an idiom and explored both its figurative meaning and its literal meaning in a playful way. This particular poem is about the turn of the seasons from summer to fall. As you listen, see if you can spot the idiom and enjoy the clever twist at the end. I hope this poem brings a smile to your face and maybe even makes you think differently about everyday phrases. Now, let’s dive into “The Summer’s Nearly Over.”

The Summer’s Nearly Over

The summer’s nearly over and
the autumn’s coming soon
so I put a pair of pennies
in a helium balloon.

I also took a nickel
and attached it to my drone
and a dime went on a Frisbee
that I hadn’t ever thrown.

I made a paper airplane and
I used some glue and strings
to attach a couple quarters on
the paper airplane’s wings.

I found a fifty-cent piece and
I tied it to my kite,
then I took them to the park today
and launched them all in flight.

I thought I ought to tell you so
that you would be aware
that the summer’s nearly over now
and change is in the air.

— Kenn Nesbitt

When I was in elementary school, everyone would give Valentine’s Day cards to everyone else in the class. In second grade, there was a girl in my class that I really liked, and my father convinced me that I should give her an extra special card. The card was big. It was pink and purple, and had hearts and glitter on it.

I wish I hadn’t let him talk me into it because I was so embarrassed to give it to her. I’m sure I blushed. Thankfully, she didn’t say anything about it. After that, I swore I’d never do it again, and I just went back to giving out regular Valentine’s Day cards like everyone else.

Valentine’s Day Card

I’d rather fight a tiger covered head-to-toe in gravy.
I’d rather spend a decade scrubbing toilets in the navy.
I’d rather hug a porcupine. I’d rather wrestle eels.
I’d rather run a marathon with splinters in my heels.
I’d rather sleep on mattresses of razor blades and nails.
I’d rather try to skinny dip with starving killer whales.
I’d rather be tormented by a gang of angry punks.
I’d rather share a bedroom with a family of skunks.
I’d rather dine on Brussels sprouts and spinach for a year.
I’d rather ride a camel race with blisters on my rear.
I’d rather eat a half a ton of liverwurst and lard
than say how much I like you in this Valentine’s Day card.

— Kenn Nesbitt

When my kids were in school, my wife and I packed them each a lunch every day. My wife would sometimes put notes in their lunchboxes, often saying, “I love you.” I always wondered whether they found it embarrassing to have love notes from their mother in their lunches. I never did find out. Instead, I decided to write a poem about a love note, and how a student might react to find one in their lunchbox.

If you like this poem, you can find lots more silly love poems and Valentine’s Day poems on my website here.

Lunchbox Love Note

Inside my lunch
to my surprise
a perfect heart-shaped
love note lies.
The outside says,
“Will you be mine?”
and, “Will you be
my valentine?”
I take it out
and wonder who
would want to tell me
“I love you.”
Perhaps a girl
who’s much too shy
to hand it to me
eye to eye.
Or maybe it
was sweetly penned
in private by
a secret friend
who found my lunchbox
sitting by
and slid the note in
on the sly.
Oh, I’d be thrilled
if it were Jo,
the cute one in
the second row.
Or could it be
from Jennifer?
Has she found out
I’m sweet on her?
My mind’s abuzz,
my shoulders tense.
I need no more
of this suspense.
My stomach lurching
in my throat,
I open up
my little note.
Then wham! as if
it were a bomb,
inside it reads,
“I love you – Mom.”

— Kenn Nesbitt

I have a dog; a little black pug named Jesse. But I often joke that his name should be Hoover, because he’s so great at cleaning up dropped food that it’s like having a little vacuum cleaner. When people ask about him, I tell them he is a “purebred chow-hound” because he seems to always be hungry and will eat anything he can find.

Recently it occurred to me that this might make a good idea for a poem. I hope you like the result.

Our Dog’s Name is Roomba

Our dog’s name is Roomba.
He’s such a great pup.
If food hits our carpet,
he vacuums it up.

He’s constantly sniffing
for food he can “clean.”
Our floors are the tidiest
you’ve ever seen.

There’s practically nothing
this puppy won’t eat.
He’ll munch on the tiniest
morsel of meat.

He’ll suck up spaghetti.
He’ll polish off peas.
He’ll chow down on berries
and cherries and cheese.

He’ll lick up linguine.
He’ll gobble up grapes.
He’ll pig out on pancakes
and waffles and crepes.

The floor in our kitchen
has never been neater.
We’re lucky our puppy
is such a good eater.

Our Roomba’s a marvelous
morsel remover.
He learned our other dogs,
Dyson and Hoover.