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

When my kids were in elementary school, they loved taking rules very literally. If I told my son not to touch his sister, he would immediately find the exact spot where he could stand as close as possible without actually touching her, and think it was hilarious. Technically, he was following the rule, even if he was clearly missing the spirit of it.

That kind of literal thinking has always made me laugh, especially when it comes to rules at school. Kids hear a rule, take it at face value, and then use a lot of creativity to follow it exactly, sometimes in ways adults never expected. It’s not about breaking the rules; it’s about finding all the tiny spaces around them.

I realized there might be a poem hiding in that idea, especially if the rule was followed with complete sincerity… and a whole lot of imagination. That’s where this poem came from.

I hope it makes you smile, especially if you’ve ever known a kid who was very good at following rules, just not quite the way they were intended. This is…

No Running in the Hall

They said, “No running in the hall,”
and so I didn’t run at all.
They didn’t say, “Don’t skip and prance.”
They didn’t say, “Don’t disco dance.”

And so, you may have seen me hop,
or spiral like a spinning top,
or zig and zag from side to side,
or spread my arms to fly and glide.

I might have marched. I might have stomped.
I might have wriggled, rolled, and romped.
I might have done a funky strut.
I might have wagged my you-know-what.

I might have slid across the floor,
or maybe moonwalked through a door,
or got down on my knees to crawl.
But, hey, I didn’t run at all.

— Kenn Nesbitt

A lot of my poems are inspired by things that happen in my own life. I wrote this one while my wife was watching a football game with her sister and brother-in-law, and I was in the other room working on a poem. As they cheered at the TV, it made me think about how different people in the same family often want to watch completely different things.

That reminded me that many families wait until Christmas to make big purchases—like a brand-new TV—and that sometimes, instead of bringing everyone together, it can create a whole new set of arguments. Football? Parades? Christmas cartoons? A holiday movie? Everyone has a favorite.

I started wondering what might happen if nobody could agree on what to watch on their shiny new television. That little idea was enough to spark this poem.

Our Brand-New TV

For Christmas, our gift was a brand-new TV.
We couldn’t agree, though, on what we should see.

My sister said, “We should all watch the parade.”
Our dad said, “The football game’s on, I’m afraid.”

My brother said, “Let’s watch a Christmas cartoon!”
Our mom said, “A good movie’s starting at noon.”

We squabbled and fought over what we should see
for hours and hours but couldn’t agree.

And meanwhile, our dog, who did not get a vote,
just sat down and chewed up the TV remote.

The TV’s now stuck from the way that he chewed.
It only shows squirrels and close-ups of food.

And, strangely, we all liked his channel much better.
It turns out our dog is a great TV setter.

— Kenn Nesbitt

I’ve always loved building snowmen. When my kids were younger, we used to spend whole winter afternoons rolling giant snowballs around the yard, hunting for the perfect sticks for arms, and deciding how he should be dresses and decorated. Which hat would work best? Should he have a scarf or a tie? Does he really need a carrot nose or would a button work just as well?

This year, I started thinking about how much personality a snowman seems to have by the time you’re done with it. You give it a hat, a scarf, and a pipe, and suddenly it feels like a character—someone who might have opinions about your artistic decisions. I wondered what would happen if a snowman actually could share those opinions.

That little idea was enough to spark this poem. The moment I imagined a half-finished snowman watching me choose its accessories, I knew I wanted to write about it. What would a snowman say? What would it care about? What would it absolutely not want? I hope you enjoy the result.

Snow’s Nose

I made a new snowman
out in our front yard.
It didn’t take long and
it wasn’t too hard.

I stacked up some snowballs.
I gave them a pat,
then threw on a scarf,
and a pipe, and a hat.

I sculpted some feet
from a little more snow,
and stuck in some sticks
where his arms ought to go.

I added some coal
for his buttons and eyes,
and that’s when he spoke,
to my utter surprise.

He said to me, “Thanks for
the hat, scarf, and pipe.
The sticks that you picked
are exactly my type.

“Now bring me some carrots.
You picked all my clothes,
but really, I don’t want you
picking my nose.”

— Kenn Nesbitt

I love writing poems about the holiday season, so I wanted to start December off with a new funny poem about Santa Claus. To get myself in the right festive mood, I reread Clement Clarke Moore’s classic poem “A Visit from St. Nicholas,” better known as “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas.” As I was reading, a couple of lines jumped out at me:

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

I couldn’t help noticing something amusing about the word “soot.” It looks like it ought to rhyme with “suit,” but it doesn’t. “Soot” actually rhymes with “put” and “foot,” not with “suit” or “boot.” Still, that contrast made me laugh, and I thought there had to be a poem hiding inside that idea somewhere.

So I first decided to call it “Soot Suit,” and then sat down to see what I could come up with. And this is the result, my newest holiday poem.

Soot Suit

When Santa came to visit us
on Christmas Eve this year,
his eyes were bright and merry
and his face was full of cheer.

He carried toys and presents
in a sack upon his back.
But Santa wasn’t dressed in red.
Instead, his suit was black.

Without his bright red coat and hat
he looked a little weird.
He also had some smudges
on his cheeks and on his beard.

We asked if he was trying out
a new and different style.
He looked down at his blackened suit
then answered with a smile.

He said, “My suit’s not really black,
as maybe you could tell.
It only looks that way because
your chimney soots me well.”

— Kenn Nesbitt

One question students often ask me is what my favorite “kind” of poem is. That is, they want to know if I like haiku or limericks or diamantes or some other type of poem best. The word poets use to describe these different kinds of poems is “form.” A form is kind of poem defined by a set of rules, which might include a certain rhyme scheme, number of lines, syllable count and so on.

The truth of the matter is that I don’t normally write in poetic forms, but if I had to pick a favorite, it would either be a funny form like limericks or clerihews, or it would be the acrostic, where the first letters of each line spell out a word or phrase.

With Thanksgiving Day (in the United States) coming soon, this week I was putting together a program on how to write “thankful” poems. One example I gave was a simple acrostic on the word “thanks.” I enjoyed that simple example enough that I decided to create a longer acrostic using the word “Thanksgiving,” listing things that you or I might be thankful for on Thanksgiving Day.

I hope you enjoy it!

Thanksgiving

These are things I’m thankful for:
Hugs from people I adore.
Apple cider. Pumpkin pie.
Next-door neighbors dropping by.
Kicking balls around the yard.
Singing, laughing, playing cards.
Glasses clinking for a toast.
Ice cream sundaes. Yummy roast.
Visitors from out of town.
Inside, children running ’round.
Napping after food and play.
Giving thanks, Thanksgiving Day.

— Kenn Nesbitt