Category: Podcast

Halloween is coming up soon, so this year I decided to write several different pumpkin poems. Out of all of them, this one quickly became one of my favorites.

One of the fun things about visiting a pumpkin patch is seeing how many different kinds of pumpkins there are. Some are tall, some are short, some are wide, some are skinny, and some have funny stems or unusual colors and stripes. When every pumpkin has something special about it, picking just one can be a lot harder than it sounds.

That was the idea behind this poem. I wanted to write something simple, playful, and a little bit silly about trying to choose the perfect pumpkin for Halloween. I hope it reminds you of a trip to a pumpkin patch of your own.

Pumpkin Problems

I’m searching for a pumpkin
at The Perfect Pumpkin Patch.
They have so many different kinds.
I can’t find two that match.

I want a jack-o’-lantern for
our house on Halloween.
I found one caked in tons of mud.
I found one squeaky clean.

I found a long and skinny one.
I found one short and wide.
I found a shiny orange one
with stripes along the side.

I found one with a curly stem.
I found one big and tall.
My mom said I could pick and so
I did.
I bought them all.

— Kenn Nesbitt

Football season has just begun, and some members of my family are already enthusiastically watching the games and hoping their favorite team will make it to the Super Bowl again this year.

I’ve written lots of sports poems over the years, including a couple about football. But those poems could just as easily have been about soccer as American football. This is the first poem I’ve written that is unmistakably about American football, complete with a quarterback throwing the ball and sending it spiraling through the air.

When I started thinking about what kind of football poem I wanted to write, I thought it might be fun to tell the story from the football’s point of view. After all, what would it feel like to actually *be* a football? You’d get to soar through the air while thousands of people cheered. Players would leap to catch you, cradle you in their arms, protect you from the other team, and carry you down the field. That sounds like a pretty exciting life.

Of course, being a football might have its downsides too. But I’ll let the football tell you about those itself.

Here’s my newest poem…

It’s Fun to Be a Football

It’s fun to be a football.
It’s phenomenal to fly.
The feeling is fantastic as
I spiral through the sky.

The quarterback releases me.
I rocket through the air
and soar above the roaring cheers
of everybody there.

The players leap to catch me.
Then they form a human shield
to keep me from the other team
and run me down the field.

They hold me close and rock me
like a baby as they run.
I’m glad that I’m a football.
As a football, life is fun.

It’s honestly incredible
except in one regard…
I really wish the players wouldn’t
kick me quite so hard.

 — Kenn Nesbitt

I wrote this poem because, here in the northern hemisphere, summer is almost over and fall will be here in just a few days. But, at least where I live, you wouldn’t necessarily know it from the weather. The days are still sunny and warm, and it still feels a lot like summer, even though I know the cooler autumn weather will be arriving before long.

That got me thinking about what might happen if Summer and Autumn were actual people with jobs to do and schedules to keep. Maybe Summer can’t simply leave whenever he wants. Perhaps he has to wait for Autumn to show up and take over his shift first. And what if Autumn happens to be running a little late?

Of course, when Summer leaves us here in the northern hemisphere, he has somewhere important to go. In places south of the equator, such as Australia, South Africa, and much of South America, the seasons are reversed. Their summer runs roughly from December through March, while we’re having winter. So I imagined Summer getting ready to head south, with people there eagerly waiting for his arrival, while Autumn has reasons of her own for not being quite ready to take his place.

The result is a phone conversation between two very busy seasons trying to sort out their schedules.

Summer and Autumn

The Summer phoned the Autumn
and he asked, “Why aren’t you here?
It’s time for my vacation in
the southern hemisphere.

“My shift is nearly over and
it’s time for me to split.”
The Autumn answered, “Just relax.
I’ll be there in a bit.

“I’m shopping for an outfit.
I could use a brand-new gown.
I need an orange dress with lots
of yellow, red, and brown.

“As soon as I can find the one
I really want to wear,
I’ll come and take your place,
so please be patient. I’ll be there.”

“But Autumn,” said the Summer,
“There’s a place I have to be.
Australia sent a text to say that
they’re expecting me.

“South Africa’s been calling too.
They want me right away.
And down in South America
they’ve asked for no delay.”

So if it’s hot and sunny when
the Autumn should be here,
it’s just the grumpy Summer
working overtime this year.

— Kenn Nesbitt

My wife recently started a new job as a school picture day photographer. Every day when she comes home, she has interesting, and often funny stories about the people and things she photographed that day. She’s taken pictures of hundreds of students, of course, but she’s also photographed teachers, school staff, and even a principal’s dog!

One thing she quickly discovered is that the grown-ups aren’t necessarily any easier to photograph than the kids. Teachers, for example, are much more likely to ask for do-overs of their staff photos because they didn’t like their smile, their hair, or the way they looked in the first one.

After hearing all these stories, I started thinking that picture day sounded like a perfect subject for a poem. My wife agreed and asked me to write a funny picture day poem that she could share with her coworkers.

So I wrote this one. Thankfully, she liked it. I hope you do too.

Picture Day

It’s picture day at school today.
I sat down in the chair
then rolled my tongue and crossed my eyes
and messed up all my hair.

I mugged for the photographer.
She frowned and shook her head,
and told me I should comb my hair
and try to smile instead.

She said, “Say cheese!” I puffed my cheeks
and jutted out my chin,
then stuck my fingers in my ears
and forced a silly grin.

She told me that, for picture day,
our portraits should be formal.
Instead, I made a zombie face,
all twisted and abnormal.

The camera clicked. I laughed so hard
I felt like I might burst.
But she just rolled her eyes and said,
“You teachers are the worst.”

— Kenn Nesbitt

The beginning of a new school year can be exciting, but it can also be a little scary. You might wonder who you’ll sit with, whether you’ll make new friends, or whether the other kids will think you’re cool. That was one of the ideas that got me started on this poem.

The other idea has been bouncing around in my head for years. Once, during an assembly at an elementary school, I was speaking to about 200 fourth- and fifth-graders. We were going to write a poem together, so I asked for a volunteer to tell me their favorite thing ever… something we could use as the subject of our poem.

I called on one student, and they enthusiastically shouted, “Space llamas!”

I thought that was hilarious and I told them so, though I heard a lot of other kids groan, which just goes to show that we don’t all like the same things and that’s okay. We ended up writing about regular llamas that day, but I never forgot those space llamas. Every so often, they would wander back into my imagination, waiting for the right poem.

Well, I finally found a place for them. Here’s a back-to-school poem about feeling nervous, trying to fit in, and, of course, Space Llamas.

Space Llamas

I dyed my hair green for the first day of school.
I wore my new Space Llamas shirt to look cool.
I stepped on the bus, but then felt like a fool.
It only had one empty seat.

It looked like I’d have to sit right next to him;
The kid who would always get picked first in gym.
My guts did a backflip. The world seemed to dim.
I gulped and looked down at my feet.

My legs turned to noodles. I whispered a prayer.
I trudged to that seat thinking, “This isn’t fair.
Oh, why’d I decide to have neon-green hair?
I’d rather be home with the flu.”

I plodded along for what felt like a mile,
then took off my pack and stepped out of the aisle.
He glanced at my getup, then gave me a smile
and said, “I like Space Llamas too.”

 — Kenn Nesbitt

Sometimes magazines ask me to write poems on a specific topic. Earlier this year, an editor at Storyworks 4-6, a multi-genre magazine for students in grades 4–6, asked me to write a poem about being nervous about making new friends on the first day of school. Instead of writing just one poem, I did what I usually do and wrote several different ideas so the editor would have a few to choose from.

In the end, they picked a different poem, called “Friendship Starter Kit,” which you’ll be able to read in the September 2026 issue of Storyworks 4-6. But I liked this one so much that I didn’t want it to sit in a folder on my computer, so I decided to share it here instead.

I think one of the nicest things about making new friends is that sometimes it happens when you least expect it. You don’t always have to plan it. Sometimes all it takes is a funny coincidence, a shared interest, or even grabbing the wrong lunchbox. I hope you enjoy it. This is…

Lunchbox Switcheroo

I brought my new lunchbox the first day of school.
Its Zombie Bananas design was so cool.
I stashed it where lunchboxes go, by the door
alongside a jumble of twenty or more.

At lunchtime the bell rang. I picked up my lunch.
I knew it had grapes and a packet of punch
along with lasagna and some kind of treat.
I rushed to the lunchroom and sat down to eat.

I unlatched my lunchbox and, to my surprise,
found caviar, soufflé, and mini meat pies.
I blinked for a minute, then had to conclude
I’d grabbed the wrong lunch with some other kid’s food.

I jumped from the table and, snapping the lid,
I raced around searching for that other kid.
I found him. He said, “This is your lunch. That’s mine.”
They shared the same Zombie Bananas design.

I said, “You like Zombie Bananas? No way!”
He answered, “Of course! We should meet up and play!”
And that’s how a simple mistake, in the end,
turned into the way that I made a new friend.

— Kenn Nesbitt

Celebrate the upcoming release of The Greatest Book of Poetry Ever Written by Kenn Nesbitt! In this special episode, Kenn shares the story behind his biggest poetry collection yet… a “greatest hits” volume featuring 120 of his favorite poems from across his career, including 18 poems appearing in print for the very first time.

Learn why this book is especially meaningful to Kenn, hear about the wonderful illustrations by Rafael Domingos, and discover why a heartfelt endorsement from Jack Prelutsky makes this release one he’ll always treasure.

Plus, enjoy an exclusive reading of a brand-new poem from the collection, “The Pirate of Pickletown.”

Pre-order the Kindle edition here: https://kennn.com/greatestebook

The paperback and hardcover editions will be released on October 13, 2026.

When I’m writing a poem, I often know how it’s going to end long before I know how it’s will begin. It’s a little like taking a road trip. You don’t usually hop in the car and start driving without a destination in mind. First, you decide where you want to go. Then you figure out how to get there. You might take a wrong turn or two along the way, but if you keep your destination in sight, you’ll eventually arrive.

This poem came together much the same way. The ending popped into my head first, and I knew I wanted to build a poem that would lead naturally to it. The challenge was finding just the right beginning and then connecting all the dots in between. Fortunately, I had two very cooperative octopuses to help me get there. I hope you enjoy it. This is…

Octo-Pair

An octopus walking along the sea floor
was startled to look up and see,
an octopus she’d not encountered before
and cried, “Why, you look just like me!”

He also exclaimed, with a look of surprise,
“Your face looks like mine in the mirror.
We have the same siphons and suckers and eyes.
We’re siblings! That couldn’t be clearer.

“Our tentacles also are all the same size,
with all the same spots on the skin.
It’s plain as can be from the arms and the eyes
that you’re my eye-tentacle twin.”

— Kenn Nesbitt

When I was a kid, it seems like I was always getting in trouble with my parents for misbehaving. The funny thing is, I usually didn’t think I was doing anything wrong. I was just having fun. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to kick the newly planted flowers in the garden or chew on the edge of the dining room table. Somehow, though, my parents always disagreed. Those childhood memories were the inspiration for this poem, although once I started writing, the idea quickly took on a life of its own. I hope you enjoy it, and if you’ve ever gotten into trouble without quite understanding why, you might just recognize a little of yourself in this one.

I Might Have Misbehaved Today

Mom asked me when I misbehaved.
I said, “I’m not quite certain.
It may have been this morning when
I tried to climb the curtain.

“It might have been at lunch
while throwing pudding at the wall.
Or maybe when I shattered
several windows with my ball.

“Or maybe when my undies clogged
the toilet once again.
I might have misbehaved today.
I’m just not certain when.”

My mother wasn’t happy with
that answer that I gave.
From now on I’ll keep better track
of when I misbehave.

— Kenn Nesbitt

For this poem, I decided to revisit an idea I’d played with years ago in a Christmas poem that I co-wrote with my friend Linda Knaus. In that poem, “Christmas Has Its Ups and Downs,” we had fun using lots of words containing “up” and “down” to tell the story. I thought it would be amusing to create a summertime counterpart using “in” and “out” instead.

My family recently went to a couple of baseball games, and it struck me that baseball is full of “in” and “out” words: innings, infield, outfield, strikeout, and many more. It seemed like the perfect sport for this kind of wordplay.

I challenged myself to squeeze as many “in” and “out” words and phrases into the poem as possible while still telling a simple story about a family enjoying a day at the ballpark. In the end, it all builds to a rather silly phrase that makes me smile every time I say it.

See if you can spot all the different “in” and “out” words hidden throughout the poem. You might even discover a few more than I intended!

Out to the Ball Game

We drove out to the baseball game
to have a weekend outing.
If we’d stayed in instead of going out,
we’d all be pouting.

The game sold out but we got in.
We took in every inning.
We cheered and shouted in the stands.
Our team was out there winning!

They got in one last strikeout
and we cheered them as they won.
The game let out and we drove in.
That outing sure was fun!

And what we figured out,
in all the cheering and the shouting,
is that there’s nothing better
than a weekend inning outing.

— Kenn Nesbitt