Poetry for Kids

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

I wrote this poem because I’m due for a haircut next week, and I have reached that awkward stage where my hair feels just a little too long. It’s not quite wild enough to be a problem, but it’s long enough that I find myself looking forward to my appointment and wishing it would get here sooner.

At the same time, summer has finally arrived. After months of cool, rainy weather, the idea of spending time outdoors on a warm, sunny day sounded especially appealing. That got me wondering: what if there were a barber who worked outside instead of inside a shop? Before long, I had imagined Benny Buzzcut, a barber who gives haircuts in his back yard and has become so popular that people come from all over to visit him.

As often happens with my poems, I started with a silly idea and then followed it wherever it wanted to go. Along the way, Benny’s little back yard business grew bigger and busier, and the poem eventually found its own amusing ending. I hope you enjoy meeting Benny Buzzcut as much as I enjoyed writing about him.