Here's my entry, one I've had lying about unfinished for some months.
Alchemy
I want to be a cliché.
The one everybody knows,
But has never seen to stray
Beyond the margin of the page.
I want to be the stereotypical
Stranger in the rain.
The one whose dark coat
Flaps about his leather feet
As if enchanted by odd charms.
Who wanders in the night
When none else would dare
But the insane and the uncalm.
The one who wanders free
Without a torch, or map,
Or track, or any guide.
No compass but himself,
But always comes to find
The place he had in mind.
The one who appears
At the old inn door,
Which creaks as if by cue.
Who draws all the sound
Towards him like iron filings
Towards a magnet,
And like some alchemist,
Turns them into golden silence.
I want to be that stranger
In the thunderous rain of night,
Who lurches to the innkeep,
Knowing madness in his eyes,
Places gold down on the table
And sees his face turn white.
