Category: Podcast

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.

I have a couple of cats, and they both love to sit on my lap. Whenever I’m watching TV or playing a video game, one of my cats will jump up on my lap and go to sleep. Sometimes, they both sit on my lap at the same time!

Over the past few months, I have been referring to them as my “laptops” because they are so often on top of my lap. So it occurred to me that perhaps I could write a poem about getting a new “laptop” that was not a computer. I hope you enjoy it.

I Got a New Laptop for Christmas

I got a new “laptop” for Christmas.
It’s awesome and couldn’t be cuter.
It isn’t a regular laptop.
It isn’t some kind of computer.

This laptop’s not battery-powered.
It’s missing a keyboard and screen.
It doesn’t connect to the wi-fi.
It’s not some device or machine.

And, yet, I’m in love with my laptop.
You might even say that I’m smitten.
I asked for a laptop for Christmas,
so Santa Claus brought me a kitten.

—Kenn Nesbitt

This Christmas poem is all about an “idiom.” In case you don’t know, an idiom is an expression whose meaning is not predictable from the words used. For example, to “kick the bucket” means to die, and to “let the cat out of the bag” means to reveal a secret. If you were just learning English, you might not be able to decipher the meanings of these expressions and would need to look them up or have someone explain them to you.

Many times, I will take a common idiom and base a poem around the fact that it might have multiple meanings; both the literal meaning of the words and the actual meaning of the expression.

In this poem, the idiom I used is the very last line of the poem, and the humor is in the fact that it has two different meanings, depending on how you look at it.

If you would like to read more poems that use common idioms, have a look at the “Poems by Poetic Technique” page on poetry4kids.com.

Sleeping Santa

I woke this Christmas morning
and, much to my surprise,
a sleeping, snoring Santa Claus
was there before my eyes.

It seems he was exhausted
from staying up all night,
delivering his presents on
a long and tiring flight.

He made it to our fireplace,
before he fell asleep,
but couldn’t take another step
and crumpled in a heap.

And there he slumbered soundly.
He slept the night away,
until I came upon him on
in the hearth on Christmas day.

My puppy started barking.
My sister gave a yell.
But Santa didn’t hear a thing
as far as I could tell.

He didn’t feel me shake him.
He didn’t hear the dog.
So Santa’s at our house this morning,
sleeping like a log.

—Kenn Nesbitt

If you’ve ever talked to an assistant on a mobile device, like Siri, Alexa, or Google Assistant, you probably know that it doesn’t always understand what you are saying as well as you would like. And, often, when you type on a phone or tablet, the autocorrect feature can make some pretty bizarre mistakes.

I was thinking about this the other day and I wondered what would happen if you tried to get Siri to do your homework problems for you. Would she understand your questions and give you correct answers, or would she occasionally make crazy errors? What if every answer was wrong, and yet you wrote them down anyway?

That was where the idea for this poem came from. Of course, even though this is an exaggeration that would never happen in real life, I recommend you do your own homework rather than relying on your phone to do it for you, just in case.

My iPhone Did My Homework

My iPhone did my homework.
I simply talked to Siri.
I read her all the problems
and she answered every query.

I asked her, “What is five times twelve?”
She answered, “Allentown.”
Her answer seemed suspicious
but I shrugged and wrote it down.

I asked her, “Who’s the President
or leader of Peru?”
She answered, “Forty seven,”
so I wrote that one down too.

I asked her ten more questions,
and she answered every one.
Her answers seemed bizarre
but I was glad to have it done.

It seems that Siri’s not too smart,
or maybe slightly deaf.
I turned my homework in today
and got big, red “F.”

I guess, for homework,
Siri’s not the best to call upon.
I’ll only let Alexa
do my homework from now on.

—Kenn Nesbitt

Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite holidays. As a kid, my family would spend all morning cooking, and then eat ridiculous amounts of dinner and dessert early in the afternoon. The house smelled wonderful from all the cooking, and we got to spend the entire day together as a family.

In fact, Thanksgiving and Christmas are the only days I remember eating so much my stomach would hurt. You see, we didn’t often have dessert in my house, but on Thanksgiving we always had several different kinds of pies; apple, pumpkin, mincemeat, and sometimes cherry and pecan. So, even after a feast of turkey, potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and more, I would still try to make room for at least two pieces of pie.

When I was young, I never thought much about the “being thankful” part of Thanksgiving. As an adult, however, I realize just how much I had to be thankful for then and how much I have to be thankful for now. My family was and is happy and healthy, and we always had enough to eat. Not everyone is so lucky.

I hope, this Thanksgiving, that you have plenty to be thankful for, including a delicious meal and the love of your family, and I hope you enjoy this little poem I wrote to help you celebrate the holiday.

Thank You, Thanksgiving

Thank you, Thanksgiving.
We’re glad that you’re here.
You ring in this season
of holiday cheer.

You give us a day to
express gratitude
with family and friends and
a whole bunch of food;

with turkey and gravy
and green beans and hams
and cranberry sauce
and potatoes and yams.

Regarding desserts
you are second to none.
So, thank you, Thanksgiving!
You’re festive and fun.

But, mostly, Thanksgiving,
you’re totally cool
because you’re a couple
of days off from school.

—Kenn Nesbitt

When I talk to kids, one question they often ask me is if any of my poems are true? That is, they want to know if any of the things I write about actually happened. Of course, I tell them, “No.” My poems are all fiction, meaning I just made them up.

However, many of my poems are based on something real. For example, I wrote this poem because of my cat, Sancho. Sancho is a kitten, just a couple of months old, and when he’s not playing or chasing our other cats around the house, he likes to stretch out for a nap.

My cat Sancho

A few weeks ago, was thinking about a sleeping cat, and about words that rhyme with cat like “flat” and “mat,” when I came up with the beginning of this poem. After that, I wasn’t sure what else should happen, so I set it aside for a few weeks.

When I finally figured out what else should happen to my flat cat, I sat down and wrote the rest of the poem. I hope you enjoy it.

My Flat Cat

I have a cat.
My cat is flat.
He sleeps beneath
the bathroom mat.

He slides around
upon the ground
without the slightest
striding sound.

He only eats
the flattest meats
and thin and wispy
kitty treats.

He once was fat
but now my cat
is totally,
completely flat.

He got so slim,
so flat and trim
the day my Great Dane
sat on him.

Do you ever feel like your teacher assigns way too much homework? Do you wish it didn’t take so long, or that there was an easier way to do it?

My book When the Teacher Isn’t Looking contains about 50 poems about all the silly things that happen at school, including Homework, I Love You, My Dog Does My Homework, My Computer Ate My Homework, and this one.

Of course, it’s not likely you have so much homework that you have to stay up all night to do it. So, this poem is a bit of an exaggeration. But, even though you probably never get as much homework as the kid in this poem, it may feel like it sometimes. You may not be able to change how much homework your teacher assigns, but what you can do is laugh at it. I hope this poem helps.

I Finished My Homework

I finished my homework.
It took me all night.
I tried to make sure
I got everything right.

I read every chapter
the teacher assigned.
My eyes grew so bleary
I nearly went blind.

I studied each problem
until my eyes burned.
Researched each detail,
leaving no stone unturned.

I finished my reading
and got out my pen
and pulled up a chair
at my desk in the den.

I answered each question.
I checked every one.
I wrote out my essays.
At last I was done.

By eight in the morning
I’d run out of fuel.
I packed up my backpack
and headed to school.

I handed the teacher
my homework, and then
I noticed, embarrassed,
I’d used the wrong pen.

The teacher looked puzzled.
I felt my heart sink.
I’d used my trick pen
with invisible ink.

— Kenn Nesbitt