Alchemical Poetry

Alchemical Poetry

Calcination Dissolution | Separation | Conjunction | Fermentation | Distillation | Coagulation

Just for Fun!





Rake the clutter and make a fire,

arrange the stones to circle the pyre,

drag your belongings one by one,

break up the moon to inflame the sun.


Heave on reluctant years of learning

watch as photographs rejoice in burning.

Throw them in, achieve annihilation:

each crackle unveils a violation.


I am on fire, watch me burn;

awaiting the wretched tide to turn,

the colors blister, the patina darkens,

no mirror can hold me, mutation harkens.


Remove your clothes and cast them in

lick the flames, invite them in!

Pants, shirt, underwear, even rings

join in the perfect kindling of things.


Look into the flames, see them howl,

heap on the knick-knacks with a shovel;

pretty boxes, drawers, and tins,

observe the snake loose it’s skin.


Draw a circle, make a bowl

begin a dance to express your soul;

anything to further feed the flames

who delight in eating your remains.


From the smoke ascends a stair

do not hesitate, be aware if

fear should cause you to look back;

dash the things you do not lack.


As hungry angels gather around,

give them your body most profound

and a voice of darkest birds,

only ask that they leave you words.


A single sentence may cause

a stir, send out a search party,

provoke a cure, clenching torches

they’re sure to follow . . .


Pause to mourn a fallen swallow.

Having left a set of prints in mulch,

spewed my semen, built a church,

I rejoice in living the life I burned.


 by Peter Valentyne <[email protected]>




Sewn unto Lucifer’s flames,

Usually reduced in crucibles

And calcined into dust,

A trophy

To hereditary exile:

Sulfuric and corrosive,

Red and lachrymal, 

Calcinated under pressure

And tribulations;

To hereditary excess:

Burning and surrendering everything

Over flames.

Through hellish emanations, 

Secreting power inside

Negative energy.

Intending to sacrifice

For angels that have

Eaten Righteousness,

I have sacrificed

These heavenly entities,

Scorched underneath Nothingness.

by Stuart Franklin <[email protected]




Hands, pale and folded, remind me

I was there before wings,

upon a ladder, holding a cup, waving goodbye;

Though I’ve no idea how or why.


It is not easy to forget myself,

worn as I am in this art of clothes,

mostly I am cloud white and corduroy,

a gliding vessel wedded to flight.


I am the determination to transcend,

to dip into the darkness

from a safety of days; though

once I fix things they tend to die.

 I seek a Tarot of assurances, to know

that the difference between a swan

and a man merely lies

in twin aspects gone awry.

  by Peter Valentyne <[email protected]




Oh, the road is rough and rocky,

  The hills are steep and wide

Valleys there are many

With plenty of places to hide.


We are all climbing the mountain

There is no place else to go

For when you leave the valley

You’re on the road again.


There’s a fire atop the mountain

It’s called Eternal Light

You can see it from the valleys,

You can feel it in the night


I’m going up the mountain

To be Eternal Light

I’ll set my feet upon the path

And strive with all my might


I’m singing on my journey

I’m taking giant steps

Oh, the mountain it is easy,

I’ll be on top tonight


Oh, Traveler, Traveler, a voice cries out

No need to make the top tonight

Come rest in my green valley

Come talk about the Light


There’s a fire on the mountain

It’s called Eternal Light

You can see it from my valley,

We’ll talk of you all night


Why not?  For the mountain, it is easy

I can reach the top tonight

I can rest in your green valley

And see the light from there


Oh, Host, your valley is lush

And your hospitality much

I can see the light from here

‘Tis a beautiful sight


Oh,  Host, thank you for the rest

I will stay the night right here

The mountain it is easy,

No need to make the top tonight


Oh, Host, ‘tis time for me to bid ado

To set my feet upon my path

The mountain it is easy,

I’ll be on top tonight


I’m singing on my journey,

I’m taking giant steps

The path is right beneath my feet

I’ll be on top tonight


From here I go to there

Up the hill, around the bend

And where – where –

Where am I anyway?


Over there, I can see it in the clouds

But how to get from here to there

I’m off the path!

I’m off the path!


Calm down, retrace your steps

Look around, look down

I’m off the path,

I’m on the path?


Hey – la, the valley, the green valley

The host, he sees me, welcomes me

Ah,  Traveler, so nice to see you again

Come and share the valley once more.


Oh, Traveler, I can see,

That you are making tracks

Come follow and I’ll show you

An easier way to go


Oh, Traveler, here is the path

And something to get high

So you, too, will have wings

Like the Eagle in the sky


Oh, the Eagle is a Noble Bird

So high above the trees.

Truly Regal Eagle

Soaring in the breeze


Now I am an Eagle

Flying o’er the trees

The fire on the mountain

I can see with ease


And from great heights

I soar to meet the earth

I fill myself with her rich bounty

Then fly into the sky


Oh, the Earth is rich

The river is full

Regal Eagle that I am

Nothing is too much for me


And from the fire on the mountain

A voice comes from the light

Oh,  Regal Eagle, flap your wings

Flap your wings with all your might


Regal Eagle flaps his wings

Regal Eagle’s ego falls

He’s stuffed so full, he cannot fly

Regal Eagle’s lost his wings


Where am I cries the Traveler

And what has happened to me?

Eagle feathers on the ground

Eagle feathers on the ground


The fire on the mountain

Where did my journey go

Is the mountain easy

Can I make the top


Green valley, where are you

And where am I to go

No shelter, no refuge

I’m on the road again


Oh, the road is rough and rocky,

The hills are steep and wide

Valleys there are many

With plenty of places to hide


We are all climbing the mountain

There is nowhere else to go

For when we leave the valley

We’re on the road again.


by Janet Turner <[email protected]



Oh Hidden Life, vibrant in every atom,

Oh Hidden Light, shining in every creature,

Oh Hidden Love, embracing all in oneness,

May all who feel themselves as one with thee,

Know they are therefore one with every other.


by Annie Besant




As our planet turns and floats,

We greet each starlit night,

Like time taking its course,

Through dawning and twilight.


Uncongealed consciousness flows

Through gulfs and voids in space,

As our needs to seek the truth

Grows life’s pains, joys, and grace.


To the farthest star we move

In a pattern supreme and divine.

The pulses in One Heart —

Splendid excess of a Mind.


by Francisco Borjas Broines Gaitan




Tell a wise person, or else keep silent,
Because the mass man will mock it right away,
I praise what is truly alive,
What longs to be burned to death.

In the calm of the love-nights,
Where you were begotten, where you have begotten,
A strange feeling comes over you
When you see the silent candle burning.

Now you are no longer caught
In the obsession with darkness,
And a desire for higher love-making
Sweeps you upward.

Distance does not make you falter,
Now, arriving in magic, flying,
And, finally, insane for the Light,
You are the butterfly and you are gone.

And so long as you haven’t experienced
This: to die and so to grow,
You are only a troubled guest
On the dark earth.

by Goethe (1814); translated by Robert Bly




Verdant sea of waist-high weeds,

wind-blown waves that

pass like goosebumps

over the fallow field.


Here Nature took a stand

and forbade the adult  cast.


No concrete squares to guide you —

but long, meandering paths,

furrowed by children at play,

leading to secret  treasures.


 The tall grass waves invitingly back and forth.

“Leave the backyard!” it  implores.

“Enter the hidden prairie!”

 Dare I forsake the manicured lawn and garden,

 the glib, structured mindset bearing down hard,

 molding me all my seven years?


Freedom beckons beyond  the fence ,

freedom to have any thought I choose.

The summer Wind seduces me.


I desert my father’s house

and jump the fence to where no man rules.

Where no one cares that

I lost the shopping money,

or that we live in the United States of America.


All that counts here is how we can be as one,

this boundless prairie and me.


Milkweed thistles reigned that day

and let me taste their cloudy dew.

Soon these prickly pods would burst,

and deck this field in white silk, 

each seed fighting to be the first.


Oh, thick sweet air, moist summer Wind!

The earth smells so pungent here,

it can choke you.


 I trace the Wind’s breath beyond the bluff,

not remembering distance,

not measuring time.


Deep in the heart of the prairie,

I discover an oasis of wonderment.  


No weed grows here, 

but a stately oak presides over a deep hole

in the yellow earth before me.

 If I step forward just an inch, 

the steep, smooth walls would swallow me,

perhaps dissolving me,

absorbing me into its clay belly.


At the crumbling edge I pause

for minutes, or days, or weeks;

slipping downward but not moving —

changes here are not in space.


Nothing else but two gaping holes —

one in the earth, one in me;

but by our similarity,

we merge into One.


I should have tried to run away.

But how to tell of the ball of energy,

power hid in earth, now free?

Hot mercury is burning a hole

in the paper landscape!


Coming and going are now the same in me;

all my attention is fused with the living light.

What is this spectral shining thing?

Nothing or everything?

The spheric kaleidoscope of 

swirling yet tranquil patterns

overwhelms me with colors I cannot imagine

and exceeds any question I can ask.


Then I pull back.

My body or something else in me

demanding to go on

living as before.


Then I pull back.

My mother is calling me home again,

offering television, TV dinners, 

and Dad.


by Dennis William Hauck <[email protected]>





I yearn to be free of this

subluminal vessel and

soar on golden wings of light,

beyond the crumbling castle

and its stale, polluted moat.


But too soon the golden light

changes into lead again,

and I plummet from high

on the towering parapet

to the dark dungeon below.


by Dennis William Hauck <[email protected]>





The Soul, secure in her existence,

smiles at the drawn dagger and defies its point.

The stars shall fade away,

the sun himself grow dim with age

and nature sink in years,

but thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,

unhurt amid the wars of elements,

the wreck of matter,

and the crush of worlds.


(From “Cato” by Joseph Addison 1713. This was the passage Edgar Allen Poe encrypted and challenged his readers to decipher in 1841. 

It was not until 1992 that a Duke University doctoral student succeeded.)





Wilson’s stave poorly saved for twenty years

As it nears

The sophistry and the mys’try of the gold

I was told

Was unjolly in its folly

Every broom and every brolly

Founded not the sophistry and the myst’ry of

the gold

Lovely gold

Au contraire let me dare and say my vouch

For some grouch

In the lighting of his writing said to thee:


Is not sorted nor aborted

In those dialects distorted

But the lighting of my writing says it be


So the dawning’s ill-forewarnings one young day so to say

Lit my cradle with some fable unbelieved

As it weaved

A spectre and reflector

Of this primordial projector

In my cradle making able image teethed

Upon, heaved

Then hologrammic monogrammic egg vessel

Left nestle

That it put at the foot of my bed

For it fled

Gave no utter nor a mutter

But a hovered fly flutter

And the graphic, oh the graphic, did I wrestle

(With the vessel)

When immersed yet unversed in such strange

Did it change

To a casket – no – a basket, holding flowers

Pollumn showers

Tried noses where roses

Of white in red imposes

Being sulphur (the engulfer) and merc’ry’s


Roses arranged

In myriad eyes mad and tranced

Then glanced

Vessel’s sailing peacock tailing image flux

One soon rucks

The sheet from his feet

To his mush quilt meets

Scared and fraught the apport nigh advanced

Hue enhanced

Could my senses that intenses like the ignis

Be the ignis?

And the salt that exalts my chem’cal wedding

Be my dredding?

In vito of libido’s

Now-formed negredo

Then at once that which blunts my guess



Oh EUREKA! not one seeker saw the plight

Of this sight

‘Tis sophistry and the myst’ry of the gold

Vivid, bold

Discerning and turning

To a sun-face burning

Beguiling face smiling splendid gold

Purest gold


by Godo <[email protected]>



When all distractions cease,
Then dawns the Day of Peace:

When every “there” is “Here!”
And every veil made Clear;

When every “then” is “Now!”
This moment to endow;

When every “that” is “This!”
Awareness melts in Bliss;

When who you Are is “I”
Then will the Truth comply;

When the soul knows it is Called,
Then the heart is now enthralled.

Then the Divine can only Bless,
And the heart only say, “Yes!”

by Ed Hirsch <[email protected]>



Hermes set down seven steps to transform

From the ‘lead’ of Self, the ‘gold’ of Spirit is born.

Step one, CALCINATION, the Spirit awakes

What is life about? Questions you make.

Step two, DISSOLUTION, the Psyche stirs

Remorse abounds, realization occurs.

Step three, SEPARATION. Release! Let go!

Use your willpower now and still your Ego.

Step four, CONJUNCTION. Empowering! Behold!

Intuition now grows and realities unfold.

Step five, FERMENTATION, time to contemplate

Prepare to receive, focus and concentrate.

Step six, DISTILLATION, intuition perfected

Contact is made, knowledge is now projected.

Step seven, COAGULATION, you are one with all

Thoughts become actions, you have made the call.

Four steps below, three above, we see

Hermes gives us his tablet of Spirit Alchemy.



by Kate Chambers <[email protected]>



(sung to the tune of Love Potion #9)


I took my troubles to the Alchemist.

You know — that Merlin with the golden wrist.

He’s got a pad down on Cedar made of pine,

Sellin’ little bottles of Green Potion #1.


I told him that I was a flop with chicks.

I’ve been calcinating since 1956.

Just can’t dissolve, separate, or ferment!

He said, “What you need is Green Potion #1.”


He stood up, turned around, and gave me a wink.

He said “I’m going to brew it up right here in the sink.”

It smelled like rotten eggs; it looked like India ink.

I held my nose; I closed my eyes. I took a drink.


I didn’t know if I was out or in.

I started craving mercury, salt, and tin.

But when I ate some copper and silver just for fun,

I knew that I had finally reached coagulation …

’cause of Green Potion #1. Green Potion #1!


by the Alchemy Workshop class at the Omega Institute

(August 14-18, 2000)



(a cautionary tale from the path of the dabbler)

I broke my soul the other day.
I hate it when that happens.
My karmas bent,
my chakras cracked,
and my Kundalini flattened.

I stuck my fingers in the fire
and scorched them to the joint.
I rote my rite
and rung my bell,
but forgot one tiny point.

If a force that’s raised is out of phase
with the resident elemental,
the resulting blow
to the raiser’s mind
can be seriously detrimental.

So the scales of balance tipped once more,
and reality went berserk.
But the journey’s end
made me surer than before
that it really is a bloody Great Work.

by StarlighT (Yahoo Clubs)