Keisha McKane had to explain
this thing called a challenge,
b/c cheating is like eating lays when you want doritos.
So, for as many days as October has,
I'll type, swift and fast,
rambling out random rhymes
juxtaposed to a joke or two,
all in the sweet name of Poetry,
speaking my peace and my anger
like it's voice was meant for me.
Poetry is the two-step I fall into
or my favorite shade of blue.
It's my 11th read of the secret garden
and the smell of lavender sheets.
Poets know the inkwell runs deep,
the pen writes at hours
when others are asleep.
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