I am an alchemist of the social kind, Not one of the elemental, A few tweaks of traits that I can make, For a persona transcendental.

When I’m at work I add more charm, A dash of self-deprecation, Throw in some well maintained wit, For any job-based situation.

When I’m with friends, reduce the calm, Add some shenanigans for fun, A pinch of mischief I may add, If the perfect moment comes.

When I’m in a place that’s new to me, And no existing mask in place, I keep a variety of traits and flaws, In stock to mold a face.

But when I’m home with the ones I love, And my thoughts can be at ease, I’ll let the alchemy go at once, And slip into blissful peace.

The little old man in the conical hat Smiled as he passed by his hanging pet bat Then he got to his chair it was there that he sat And proceeded to get down to work

He reached across the table to get to the jar That was filled to the brim with magic from afar So special to him it was marked with a star It as then that he opened the lid

Looking inside he saw a chunk of base metal Bought from the man when he came by to peddle His wares from the fair that now sat in a kettle The alchemist leaned in to watch

The colors that rose in the smoke were so bright They lit up the room and blinded his sight Still he wished and he wished with all of his might The metamorphosis began to take place

The gold that was showing was a sight to behold It was true all the things that he had been told It was then that the room began to turn cold His hands now started to shake

The gold in the kettle had started to glow And a sound then began and it started to grow He was worried the house would soon blow His time was running out

So he ran up the stairs and got to the door But he wanted to know so he looked back once more. This foolhardy magician then heard a great roar And darkness enveloped the house

(Not the prompt)

The most perfect expression How your cheeks grow When your eyes glow How wonderful that smile could make someone feel

As bright as the sun Nothing I’d rather see Than that face grinning happily Happy and free

A smile is perfect It spreads so easily How happy it makes me Every time it’s seen

Could you smile? Yes, you Your smile is beutiful too Smile for me? It’s all I’d want to see

I hope you did And if not you’ll have your reason It’ll make you smile With only a thought

He would show them, The alchemist grumbled Slaming the door on the jeering crowd Who called his work infantile And unimportant Their voices of ridicule ever so loud

From all of the elements In his possession There was one that he had never used If he could make something Unseen by mankind The crowd would be shoked, baffled and confused

They peered through the window He labored for hours Shielding his test tubes from their peeping eyes Til at last when the moonlight Fell on his cottage The alchemist emerged with a special suprise

He held up a bottle Seemingly quite empty “What is it?” the crowd chimed out in reply Said he, “tis a potion Guaranteeing happiness Sheer joy will be yours til the day that you die”

They didn’t ask questions Immediate chaos They forked over their cash for a chance at this bliss These clear plastic bottles Became a new movement The sly alchemist earned some millions like this

He now was an icon A prophet, an idol Who had brought peace to a struggling land The money kept coming The man bought a palace With the spoils of labors they could not understand

And at night he will wander Back to his labratory Full of empty glasses and since fulfilled dreams He smiled at the test tubes No elements in them For he’d learned how to make something out of nothing

A poor alchemist wanted the recipe for gold because he was short on money But diddnt know how, so he whent to search for the recipe for gold. He soon came across a run down cabin, he walked in the cabin and found a chest, there was a lock so he whent out side and looked for a big rock to smash open the cache, he found a rock and proceeded to smash the chest till it opened. spiders crawled out and the chest glowed bright yellow, he found the recipe for gold. Soon after he left he came across scavengers looking for valuables, luckily he had invisibility Soda, he drank it and turned invisible. while running back to his shop he came across someone in distress, he helped but it was a trap! He was running from the scavengers once more and he had no more magic sodas, So he ran for his life and soon lost them and made it back to his house safely. So he started his gold mixture, soon made gold and is now the richest alchemist in town.

To make one into another One must think beyond one thought For change does not come easy

Mad he is called Shunned by all The man continues For change does not come easy

Science said no He pushed on Change is important For change does not come easy

Water to ice Change is possible Science said no, he proved wrong For change can be easy, If you know how to

Gold The Queen of Sheba fell, Well, she dove, really, for pearls. She dove down past caring what would happen to her after, What we would say about her centuries later, How she was seduced, how she was a fool. The best of us know that, to become gold, we first have to burn. Gold is soft, it can be marked with a finger. Most of what surrounds it is extra. To make it beautiful, it has to be burned. This is the thought that wakes me up when I've dropped off with my head in one of my master's books, Do I have the courage to burn? The writing in these books is more like dreams than words, Flecks and spirals twisting on and over each other like the lights behind my eyes when I've read too long. If I am to become something, To become something other than this, I must not notice when my eyes are tired. I must understand that they look down at this leather and ink now so they can look at the stars forever. Do I have the courage to burn? When all of this is said and done, Can I peel away the layers of me that do not deserve eternity? Can I sacrifice the tiny voice that worries what I will be called? The pulses in my heart that tell me that I have missed the best of everything, No man will look at me, Burns on my hands from learning the mysteries up close. I never even got to hold my sister's child, My own is an imagining, An ache at the back of my head that I ignore, But can't bring myself to consign to the fire. Can I pull apart the place in my soul that wants God to live between the nave and the apse and stay there? In the middle of the night, When my master has gone to sleep (he is allowed to sleep), I wonder what else will have to burn? Will I have to cut away the layer where my heart skips a beat at the sight of the rising sun? The part that used to wander in the woods, rubbed herbs between my fingers just for their fragrance, before I learned their uses. Will my laughter have to die? I know how loud it is. When the mixture of me has simmered and boiled over, There may be precious little left to live forever.

• One lump of coal (preferably from a naughty kid’s stocking)

• A cockatrice egg (this one calls for quiet stalking)

• One large bundle of Revrious Xolder

• All four leaves of a four leaf clover

• A single drop of water from the wretched River Styx.

• The blood of a frog and the tears of a hog (use caution not to mix).

• One perfectly portioned cup of salt that’s lost it’s taste.

• An old cauldron

• An eclipsed sun (be careful not to waste)

brewed up the just the right environment the wave of leaves, the fall of water. towering trees, swaying mountains. all made in his graceful splendor. and to whom do i give thanks for these elements added? my reaction to it all is awe and wonder. it’s my place of refuge, arms of comfort. i’ll give thanks to the creator of love when i receive those provisions as a gift from above. so often i assume i’m the one who provides for myself; i have to stop and recall. my basis for life ought to be in his likeness: grace and splendor.

Every metal I touch soon turns to gold Iron, steel, rusted or old. Every step that I take, chains are wrapped around me For I only serve as a treasure to keep.

My magical hands wield power beyond me But they don’t understand, and they beg for the key. I am seen like a god which they try to please But I am worth as much as the air that they breath.

I’m not worth more than cattle I’m not worth more than a dog. I am human with powers Turning iron to gold.

But my hearts worth much more And that they can’t see. For there’s much more to me Than the powers I keep.