Like a sculptor chiseling stone into being, Malcolm Randall creates meaning with words; he shapes them, massages them, and relishes in their beauty. I first met Malcolm when I invited him into my language arts classroom and then witnessed his indelible passion once again when he captivated an audience of English teachers. Told through both poetry and prose, The Malchemist: Apprentice" is Malcolm's first book, a poignant story of Malcolm's search for self-acceptance and ultimately, of his discovery of the gold within himself" -Jean Lamar, 2009 Florida Teacher of the Year
the malchemist
"apprentice"By malcolm randallAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2011 Malcolm Randall
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4634-1347-7Contents
Introduction..................................................ixHis Eye Is on the Sparrow.....................................1Mrs. Hayes....................................................3An American's Dream...........................................6Mackeechant...................................................10Season of Myself..............................................12Fall..........................................................15The Clown.....................................................16Undetected....................................................17Tupperware....................................................18Sweet Carmen..................................................20Carmen's Burana...............................................22Lot in Life...................................................24Bathroom Wall #1..............................................27Liberty County................................................29Excuse Me.....................................................32The Past......................................................35Winter........................................................39Timeless Beauty...............................................40Mona's Smile..................................................41Threatening Skies.............................................43Something for Nothing (Poetic Palindrome).....................45Homeschooled..................................................46Forever?......................................................47You Will See..................................................48Stars Roll Down...............................................49Procession....................................................50Bottle Up Love................................................52I Dreamed of Death............................................53Stretched.....................................................54Spring........................................................57Metaphoric Breeze.............................................58Gifted........................................................60Before........................................................63Passion.......................................................66In the Evening Dew............................................68Rat Race......................................................70Reverence of Love.............................................71Summer........................................................75Sina's Voyage.................................................76Shape of Believing............................................79Bathroom Wall #2 (The Mushroom)...............................81Regards to Saturn (An Artist's Prayer)........................83The Love Button...............................................84Acknowledgments...............................................87Recommended Reading...........................................90Recommended Journal...........................................92Recommended Exercise DVDs.....................................93Recommended NPR Shows.........................................94North Carolina Public Radio...................................95
Chapter One
Fall
The Clown The makeup's on
As I prepare
To mesmerize my
Crowd out there.
The lights go on.
I spin on stage.
The cheers arise.
The organ plays.
I am your fool
And that's okay,
'Cause with your smile
You make my day.
If it pleases you
I'll trip and fall
Flat on my face.
I'll do it all.
Yet with every trick
I always know
When it comes to you
I'm just the show.
A captive crowd
I'll never gain.
A thousand laughs
Won't hide the pain.
But for a moment
I'll forget that when
The lights go out
I'll be me again.
With makeup off
And curtain down,
You'll go home
And I'm still the clown.
Undetected I have chosen silence over death—
A death of my views, shot down
By eyes devoid of art.
I have opted for drowning
Instead of your strangulation,
For when air passes from
My chest into water and
Is replaced by water,
I have still won.
With water in my soul
There is still something left.
You would have me be empty,
Just as you would have me be you.
But to be you I would be empty.
Yet in being me I am full.
Yes, I breathe color
In place of your air.
What of air can you see?
What of air can you smell?
Have you ever closed
Your eyes to see the color?
If this was how you viewed me,
Oh, the colors you'd see.
But, with your eyes wide open
I pass by you, undetected.
Tupperware How are you there
In your Tupperware,
Swirled?
Occasionally faking
To burp the stagnation,
Aching
To be released from
Your self-contained
World.
They pack you and
Stack you in seals
With no intent for
Breaking,
Unless they (k)nead
You for baking.
But it's only
When the recipe
Calls for you,
And it's just in parts.
With a dash of your hopes
You'll be grated,
Elated
To be in the mix.
It becomes your fix
When you hold no clue
That it is you
Who should be the product.
Or are you the process,
With no concern
For the product?
But wait—
You're not ready for flambé.
So back you go,
Tupperware in tow,
To the frigidity
You accept to be.
No hope to see
That low temperatures
And plasticity
Keep what's in you
From rising to
What's in me.
Sweet Carmen
My summer working at Greyfield Inn on Cumberland Island was inarguably one of the most satisfying and educational experiences I have had. As fall closed, one of my companions began growing excited about the upcoming visit of some friends. She told me that her friend Carmen had just been diagnosed with terminal lupus and was in the midst of coming to terms with the news. We agreed to plan a fun-filled weekend, as was our tradition for visitors.
When the boat arrived, carrying our anticipated guest, I was introduced to Carmen and was immediately taken by her quiet strength. The weather cooperated to provide fruition of our plans, which gave me the opportunity to relax on the beach and get to know her.
A few days into the visit, I was struck by the fact that Carmen never complained of feeling ill, nor did she broach the subject of her illness. There was no sense of melancholy in her words, and the insights that played into her conversations were solely uplifting. I pondered for many days (since we were the same age) what it must feel like to contemplate my mortality, to be told that there is an invader in my body and it was going to win.
One evening, while watching the sunset, we began talking about change. I had long ago assumed the position of the Cumberland barber, so I came up with a great idea. I asked her if she would be interested in getting a haircut that evening. I felt a night of beauty was in order. At first, she was hesitant to give my scissors permission to cut the long brown hair that she kept in a braid. After a moment, she seemed to draw into herself, and then she quietly responded, "What am I holding on to? It's just hair." Not a moment...
