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Children’s author Alan Katz has a brand new collection of funny poetry for kids called Poems I Wrote When No One Was Looking. I had the pleasure of speaking to Alan about his new book. You can listen to the interview here on the Poetry4kids Podcast.
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The dragons run the fire department
down in Monster Town.
They’re Johnny-on-the-spot
when there’s a building burning down.
They carry ropes and hoses.
They have buckets full of sand,
which, every afternoon, they practice
passing hand to hand.
They’ve got a truck and ladder,
and a siren they can blare.
They’ve even got protective hats
and boots and underwear.
But every time that there’s a fire
they stand around and pout.
Unfortunately, dragons stink
at putting fires OUT.
–Kenn Nesbitt
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Melvin the mummy, who lived near the Nile,
had worked as a mummy for more than a while,
for mummies can go their entire careers
without a vacation for thousands of years.
He guarded the pyramids day after day
to frighten the burglars and bandits away,
which meant, as he stood watching over the pharaohs,
he often got shot at with bullets and arrows.
His job was so stressful, the pay was so poor,
but, still, Melvin stayed and protected the door.
Until he got sick of his sad situation
and knew that he needed to take a vacation.
His crypt was so dark and so cold and so clammy,
he packed up his swimsuit and flew to Miami.
He thought he would stay there for just a few days,
enjoying the beach and absorbing some rays.
But, sadly, poor Melvin would never return,
and this is a lesson all mummies should learn:
Don’t take any trips or, like Melvin, you’ll find
vacations make mummies relax and unwind.
–Kenn Nesbitt
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My brother’s not a werewolf
though it often looks that way.
He has to shave his whiskers
almost every single day.
His feet are getting furry
and his hands are sprouting hair.
His voice is deep and growling
like a grumpy grizzly bear.
He often sleeps throughout the day
and stays up half the night.
And if you saw the way he eats
you’d surely scream in fright.
His clothes are ripped and dirty
like the stuff a werewolf wears.
His socks and shirts are shredded
and his pants have countless tears.
If you should ever meet him
you’ll discover what I mean.
My brother’s not a werewolf;
he’s just turning seventeen.
— Kenn Nesbitt
Copyright © 2011 Kenn Nesbitt. All Rights Reserved.
www.poetry4kids.com
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This week I had the pleasure of speaking with J. Patrick Lewis about his career, his books, and his new position as Children’s Poet Laureate of the United States. Pat was charming as he shared stories and even read a brand new poem.
Click the play button below to listen to the interview or click here to subscribe to the Poetry4kids.com podcast for more funny poems and interviews with well-known children’s poets.
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I’m Boney Mahoney,
the Skeleton Singer.
I’m known for harmonious tones.
I’ll croon to the tune of
a jaw harp or hand drum.
I’ll trill to the sound of trombones.
To have me start humming
just tickle the ivories.
I’ll sing if you finger a bell.
I’ll rap if you slap at
a washboard or rattle.
I’m hip to the nose flute as well.
If you’re a musician
in search of a singer
just give me a telebone call.
But find someone else if
you only play organ;
I don’t sing with organs at all.
–Kenn Nesbitt
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“My brother is still in his bedroom.
No doubt he’ll be getting up soon.
But last night he stayed up till midnight,
so maybe he’ll sleep until noon.
“I haven’t gone into his bedroom.
Whenever I do he gets mad.
If anyone woke him this morning,
I’m guessing it must have been dad.
“It’s probably best not to bug him.
I try to stay out of his way.”
Yes, that’s what I said when mom asked me
if I woke up grumpy today.
–Kenn Nesbitt
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To learn to juggle prickly pears
can take a lot of practice.
It takes a thousand shrieks and swears
to learn to juggle cactus.
Just try to juggle porcupines!
You’re guaranteed to scream.
Anemones with all their spines
are equally extreme.
To stop the painful pokes and stings
you must get metal mittens
or else just juggle fluffy things.
That’s why I juggle kittens.
–Kenn Nesbitt
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I’m the toughest pastry maker who has ever baked a cake.
My impressive little pastries are impossible to break.
Yes, my cookies and my cupcakes will defeat the strongest jaws,
while my muffins are impervious to power drills and saws.
You have never seen a danish or a donut quite so strong
and I bake the fiercest fruitcake that has ever come along.
You can chew on them till doomsday, you can chew till kingdom come,
but you’ll never get a nibble, not a solitary crumb.
You can whack them with a hammer, you can hit them with a stick.
You can stab them with a dagger, you can beat them with a brick.
You can drop them from an airplane, you can blast them with a bomb
but my pastries will exhibit only peacefulness and calm.
I expect you’ll want to test them. I encourage you to try,
but you’ll never make a mark on them and here’s the reason why:
I do something with my recipes no other bakers do;
when the cookbook calls for “milk” or “water,” I use Crazy Glue.
–Kenn Nesbitt
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Mr. Brown, the circus clown
puts his clothes on upside down.
He wears his hat upon his toes
and socks and shoes upon his nose.
He ties his ties around his thighs
and wraps his belt around his eyes.
He hangs his earrings from his hips
and stockings from his fingertips.
He puts his glasses on his feet
and shirt and coat around his seat.
And when he’s dressed, at last he stands
and walks around upon his hands.
–Kenn Nesbitt
