Before I decide what to wear, I often check the weather on my phone. How cold is it outside? Is it going to rain? Will it warm up later in the day? My wife thinks this is a little ridiculous and says I should just look out the window. Or better yet, step outside and see how it feels. But I like knowing what’s coming. A weather app can tell you if you’re going to need a coat, a hat, or an umbrella later on, even if things look fine right now.

One day, while I was thinking about checking the weather online, a funny idea popped into my head, an idea that felt like it belonged at the end of a poem. As often happens for me, I wrote that ending first and then worked backward, figuring out what kind of poem would lead naturally to it.

This poem grew out of that process, mixing everyday habits with a little imagination and wordplay. I hope it makes you smile, and maybe even think twice about how you decide what the weather’s like before you head outside. This is…

Warm or Storm?

I think I’ll stay inside today.
In here, it’s nice and warm.
Outside, I’m told it’s frozen.
There’s a frigid winter storm.

I heard that there’s a blizzard
with a ton of ice and snow.
Thermometers are saying that
it’s twenty-five below.

That’s way too cold to snowboard,
or to ski, or skate, or sled.
The news said, “Stay inside today
and bundle up in bed.”

I could have gone outside to see
how chilly it would get.
But I just looked online
and read it on the Winternet.

— Kenn Nesbitt

I love cheese, pretty much all kinds of it. A few months ago, I even decided to try making my own cheese for the very first time. I started with cottage cheese, which seemed like a sensible beginner’s choice. Unfortunately, it didn’t turn out quite as well as I’d hoped. Still, I really enjoyed the process, and I’m planning to give cheesemaking another try soon.

Today, while I was eating a slice of Swiss cheese and thinking about that not-so-successful experiment, my mind started wandering. I began imagining a cheesemaker who’s a very choosy about his ingredients, and before long, the idea for this poem popped into my head.

Sometimes all it takes is one small thought, and one very silly pun, to turn into a poem. That’s exactly what happened here. This is…

A Cheesy Story

I’m Cheesemaker Charlie.
I like to make cheese.
I’m fond of ricottas,
and cheddars, and bries.

Each cheese I prepare
needs its own kind of milk,
to make sure it’s creamy
and smoother than silk.

For string cheese, to help it
stay slender and slim,
I only use milk that’s been
labeled as “skim.”

I try to ensure that
my jack cheese is jacked.
I help it stay shredded
with “low fat,” in fact.

And when I make Swiss cheese,
perfection’s my goal.
So, that’s why I only
use milk labeled “hole.”

— Kenn Nesbitt

I’ve always loved performing. When I was a kid, I once put on a magic show for my family when I was seven years old. I even rented a cape and a top hat for the occasion. Unfortunately, the show didn’t go very well. Everyone kept shouting out how the tricks were done, which made it hard to feel very mysterious.

Still, that love of performing stuck with me. One of the reasons I fell in love with poetry in the first place was because my father used to sing silly songs and recite nonsense poems at home. Watching him perform made me realize how much fun words can be when you say them out loud.

Because of that, I love writing poems about performing, whether it’s singing, karaoke, student talent shows, or just putting on a show for anyone who happens to be nearby. That idea is what inspired this poem. I hope it makes you smile. This is…

Toothbrush Karaoke

While brushing my teeth after breakfast today,
I looked at my toothbrush and, what can I say?
It looked like a microphone there in my hand.
I thought of a song from my new favorite band.

I strolled to the living room singing that song.
My brother, surprised, started clapping along.
My sister stood up and applauded my tune.
She begged me to keep singing all afternoon.

I ran to my room where I sang to my frog.
My singing and dancing delighted our dog.
I chanted and rapped as I ran down the hall,
to croon to the mirror we had on the wall.

And that’s when my mom and dad walked in the door,
complaining of slobber all over the floor.
They said my performance was totally cool,
except for the minty-fresh puddles of drool.

— Kenn Nesbitt