Poetry ~ The Visitors

The visitors arrived again last night
there are more of them now
nameless, faceless, yet familiar
and comforting 
my fear of the beast stalking humanity
keeps me up most nights,
tossing and turning
the visitors wait
they descend in the early morning hours
of my deep sleep
they are busy, doing something
I don't know what, but their presence
grows stronger 
maybe I will attempt lucid dreaming
and ask them who they are and why
they're here
but I think I know
the visitors are here to comfort
and protect me, maybe from my
own thoughts and imagination
but the virus is no imaginary beast
the virus is real
maybe the visitors are too

Poetry ~ Journey through the Almanac

Today's NaPoWriMo poetry prompt asks us to:
"fill out, in five minutes or less, the Almanac Questionnaire.
Then, use your responses as the basis for a poem."  I found this
prompt humorous and tried to have fun with the poem that
emerged. You can find the Almanac Questionnaire here.
Near the end of our journey
the weather turned blustery.
The landscape came alive,
erupting in budding green shoots.
Upon arrival at the chalet we exchanged
elbow bumps and air kisses as we
watched ground squirrels climb
rows of stacked rocks.
"Rock art," our host commented,
"a new form of rural graffiti".
Shortly thereafter, a rain drenched
Bard arrived on horseback wearing
swanky pajamas pants and declared
he was player one from the matrix.
"I knew it!" I screamed. 
"None of this is real!" I swallowed
another blue pill and was
transported to my grammar school
on Hampton Street with my hero, Neo.
I was startled back to reality
when our host shouted, 
"Don't drink the bleach!" My thoughts
scattered to visions of dragons and
Daddy reading "Uncle Remus" behind a 
a dumpster in an alley near Canada
where a sign reads: "No Americans Allowed"
Oh, how I fear the beliefs that divide us.
I long for the vistas of a virus-free rural countryside.

Poetry ~ The Magician

he is an unreliable narrator of perception
weaving an intricate web of woe
a distorter of lies; artist of deception
cloaking clues and hollow hints in looking glass 
seducing his patrons with the allure of reflection
heroes and villains appear on the scene 
swiftly dispersed in a myriad of directions
his audience swoons as chaos ensues 
oh, how he yearns for eternal adulation!
his final act sealed, veiled in darkness
light and reality; the ire of his affection
suitor of death ~ by misadventure
he is the master of misdirection
eluding the grim reaper; a masterful 
necromancer; he is the magician