Category: Podcast

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.

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