Category: Podcast

Welcome to Poetry4kids. I’m Kenn Nesbitt. As a student, I remember being so tired in school some days that I would fall asleep at my desk and the teacher would have to wake me up. I was never so tired in the morning that I went to school in my pajamas or bedsheet or blankets. But a friend of mine actually did this once when she was in college. She was so sleepy that she woke up at the very last minute, wrapped her sheet around herself and walked to class.

Recalling this recently, I thought it might be funny to write a poem about it. I hope you enjoy it.

Ideas for poems can come from lots of different places. Sometimes when I write a poem, the idea starts with a single word or a phrase. In this case, I was thinking about the upcoming holidays, Halloween and Thanksgiving. Halloween made me think of monsters, including Frankenstein’s monster, which made me think of “Frankenstein’s Thanksgiving.” It occurred to me that it might be fun to write a single poem that combines Halloween and Thanksgiving into a single holiday. This poem is the result.

The Monsters’ Thanksgiving

When monsters spend Thanksgiving
at the house of Frankenstein,
the feast is full of frankenfoods.
That’s how they like to dine.

They each will bring a favorite dish
and share it with the group.
The Blob provides the Jell-o and
the Fly supplies the soup.

The Creature from the Black Lagoon
makes slimy stewed tomatoes.
The Wolfman and Godzilla share
their monster mash potatoes.

The Zombie drops some finger foods.
The Thing makes lots of things.
The Phantom of the Opera serves
some stuffing as he sings.

The Mummy brings a bubbling bowl
of gravy from his grave.
And Dracula doles out dessert…
blood pudding from his cave.

They do this each November, and
do not invite the living.
They simply dine with Frankenstein
to celebrate Franksgiving.

— Kenn Nesbitt

Welcome to Poetry4kids. I’m Kenn Nesbitt. With Halloween just around the corner, I wanted to write a poem about the holiday. I had already written a poem about spooky monsters called “The Monsters’ Thanksgiving,” so this time I thought it would be fun to come up with a poem about trick-or-treating. I imagined creating a time-saving device to help collect more candy, and the idea of an army of trick-or-treating robots came to me.

The very next day, I saw a headline that read, “Inventor Builds Six Robot Copies of Himself, Uses One to Give Speeches and Take Questions From Audience.” I took that as a sign that my idea was timely—and that this was definitely a poem I needed to write! I hope you enjoy it.

Robot Halloween

I built a hundred robots, and
I thought it would be neat
to send them out on Halloween
and have them trick-or-treat.

They went in all directions
as they sped from door to door,
collecting treats at every house,
then moving on for more.

My robots were efficient.
They were speedy and polite.
They quickly went to every single
house in town that night.

They brought their load of candy home
and dumped it on the floor.
It filled the house so fast,
it started spraying out the door.

An avalanche of candy poured
across our porch and lawn.
Our yard was buried instantly.
Our plants and fence were gone.

We may no longer have a house
or yard, but it appears
our candy pile is big enough
to last for many years.

It turns out having robots
trick-or-treat is pretty handy.
Just make sure you have room to store
a hundred tons of candy.

— Kenn Nesbitt

Every now and then, there’s a day when you just don’t want to get out of bed. Rather than take on the new day, you just want to stay under the blankets and sleep. I wrote this poem because I started thinking about all the wild, imaginative reasons someone might have for staying in bed—things that are so strange, they would drive just about anyone back to bed. While you can take this poem at face value, reading it as though these crazy things actually happened to the narrator, you should also consider other possibilities. Perhaps the narrator is still asleep and dreaming. Or maybe they’ve just come up with a harebrained excuse to avoid facing the day. No matter how you interpret it, sometimes it feels like it’s just easier to stay under the covers when things get too weird!

Bed Instead

This morning I woke up
and what did I see?
My houseplants were waving
good morning to me.

I thought this was odd, so
I looked all around.
My sneakers were tap-dancing
down on the ground.

My clothing was strolling.
My books flew like birds.
My games were patrolling
my bedroom in herds.

My toys and my backpack
were having a fight.
They looked like they must have
been at it all night!

If anyone needs me,
just tell them I said
it’s too weird today so
I’ve gone back to bed.

— Kenn Nesbitt

I recently had a “half birthday,” which falls in August since my real birthday is in February. Because of this, I was thinking about writing a half-birthday poem. By the time I started working on it, it was already September. The line “I never can remember if my birthday’s in September” popped into my head because September rhymes so nicely with “remember”—and also with December and November. I liked the way that line sounded, so I created this poem with that idea as the starting point.

When thinking about half birthdays, it also occurred to me that since it might be fun to celebrate your birthday twice a year, it could be even more fun to celebrate it three or four times a year, or even more often.

Oh, and by the way, the rhythm of this poem is the same as one of my all-time favorite poems, “In Praise of Llamas” by Arthur Guiterman. It was fun to use that familiar rhythm to explore the idea of never quite remembering my birthday—and deciding how often to celebrate it!

When’s My Birthday?

I never can remember
if my birthday’s in September
or in January, August, or July.
Or it could be in December,
or October, or November.
I’ve forgotten when it is.
I don’t know why.

And it may be on the seventh,
or the third, or the eleventh,
though I know that sounds a little bit absurd.
Plus it might be a Sunday,
or a Thursday, or a Monday,
on the seventeenth, or thirtieth, or third.

Now, while some might find this vexing,
or confusing, or perplexing,
I make lemons into lemonade this way:
Since I never can remember
if my birthday’s in September,
I just celebrate my birthday every day.

— Kenn Nesbitt

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