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My Brother Made a Snowball
Welcome to Poetry4kids. I’m Kenn Nesbitt. I grew up in a part of California where it never snowed, but every now and then my parents would take me and my brothers to the nearby mountains in the wintertime to play in the snow. We loved building snowmen and throwing snowballs at one another. Later, when I moved up north where it snows every winter, my own kids grew up doing the same—building snow forts and having snowball fights, but they got to do it in the front yard.
This poem was inspired by those memories and the idea of what might happen if kids got a little carried away and missed their intended target. Sometimes, snowball fights can lead to some pretty funny and unexpected situations!
My Brother Made a Snowball
My brother made a snowball.
He threw it at our sister.
He threw it hard. He threw it fast.
His aim was bad. It missed her.
It hit our mother in the head.
It blew up like a bomb.
His eyes went wide, and then he tried
to run away from Mom.
Our mother made some snowballs, and
she threw them at my brother.
She struck him with a hundred snowballs,
one after another.
So now my brother looks just like
a snowman in our yard.
I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen
my sister laugh so hard.
— Kenn Nesbitt
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By Kenn Nesbitt
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22 ratings
Welcome to Poetry4kids. I’m Kenn Nesbitt. I grew up in a part of California where it never snowed, but every now and then my parents would take me and my brothers to the nearby mountains in the wintertime to play in the snow. We loved building snowmen and throwing snowballs at one another. Later, when I moved up north where it snows every winter, my own kids grew up doing the same—building snow forts and having snowball fights, but they got to do it in the front yard.
This poem was inspired by those memories and the idea of what might happen if kids got a little carried away and missed their intended target. Sometimes, snowball fights can lead to some pretty funny and unexpected situations!
My Brother Made a Snowball
My brother made a snowball.
He threw it at our sister.
He threw it hard. He threw it fast.
His aim was bad. It missed her.
It hit our mother in the head.
It blew up like a bomb.
His eyes went wide, and then he tried
to run away from Mom.
Our mother made some snowballs, and
she threw them at my brother.
She struck him with a hundred snowballs,
one after another.
So now my brother looks just like
a snowman in our yard.
I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen
my sister laugh so hard.
— Kenn Nesbitt