Surreal Images: of Voices, Echoes and Whispers: A Poetic Philosophy on the Inner Soul...The Outer Voice...The Vibrant, Vivid Colours of Imagination...The Celestial Music of Thought

By R. Dean Moudy

R. Dean Moudy is part of an artistic, cultured and creative family and enjoys an ingenious talent both in his professional and personal life observing the world with an unusually imaginative and many times humorous eye. He has been published in The National Library of Poetry and inclusion in a number of other recognitions, honors and awards. In this extraordinary and remarkable book of surreal philosophical poetry, he has taken you and his vision out of the everyday life to pursue and witness exploring the exotic images and themes that transcend time and place in its appeal. His recognized work is recommended for its poetic discipline, personal tone, natural scenery and dreamlike pictorial beauty. The many themes he has developed are underlying yet all pervasive as each poem will take you along to another world you have not yet dreamed. From surrealistic dreamscapes to haunting bittersweet memories, through a restless melody, to an impossible reality, then a quiet awakening but are you really awake or are YOU the dream? R. Dean Moudys inspired I, Witness is an appealing volume of a dream journey that will often call to you long after you attempt to put it down.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 10, 2008
• ISBN: 9781462848515

Book preview

Copyright © 2008 by R. Dean Moudy.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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36009

Contents

I.

OF VERSE

OPUS NOCTURNE

WINDS OF MOOD RIVER

OF NIGHT UNTO DAWN

WINDSONG

EPITAPH

PET CEMETARY OF DIXIE

QUERY

EVER CONCENTRIC CYCLES

REFLECTIONS

THE KISS

IMPASSIONATA

ADAGIO

MYSTERIOUS JOURNEY

SURGING SEA

BLACK VELVET

BETRAYAL

HARPY

SHARING

THE WITNESS

THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE CRUCIBLE

THE INNOCENTS

WINTERSET

II.

O F D R E A M S and

I M A G E S, and V I S I O N S

I N T H E N I G H T

NIGHT SHADE

LA VALSE

EUTERPE, DREAM MISTRESS

PALISADES PARK

CELESTIAL CONFERENCE

DReamridER

JOURNEY INTO A NIGHTMARE

SPHINX

THE MOURNING OF SHILOH

CONQUISTADOR

AN INDIAN LOOKING INTO THE EYES OF

   FOREVER

WHITE BUFFALO

I AM WARRIOR

THE PROPHECY OF THE TERMINAL

    GENERATION

RETURN OF THE EXTRATERRESTRIAL

CHRYSALIS

I AM

III.

P H I L O S O P H Y S and

E T H I C S of T H O U G H T,

M E D I T A T I O N S and

W H I M S E Y

ON CHILDREN . . .

ON WOMEN . . .

ON LOVE . . .

ON CHARACTER, INTEGRITY, MORALITY, TRUST and TRUTH . . .

ON THE OMINOUS EMOTIONS . . .

ON HUMOR . . .

ON GOD and HIS ANGELS . . .

ON DEATH . . .

ON TIME . . .

ON DREAMS . . .

ON POETRY . . .

CHRONICLES from the TOME of the RAVEN . . .

THE REALITY OF LOVE . . .

THE DREAM OF LOVE . . .

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Illustration Panels are

The ART of

Heather Jae Marie

Call to ME and I will Answer you,

   and will tell you great and hidden things

   which you have not known.

JEREMIAH 33:3

missing image file

STAIRWAY TO THE DREAMS

People come and go, passing through this Life

   leaving messages in their path;

But, I am sharing mine with you,

   this is my I Witness . . .

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This Tome is a Living entity and moves unceasingly beneath my pen

   that I must move swiftly to follow

And even still I can never move fast enough to capture

   every fragment of its soul

So therein, much is lost to the merciless ether;

   lightning bursts of the mind, the third eye ever watching;

   the quiet contemplative search for answers to the enigma

Of the Dream.

The truly creative mind in any field

   is no more than this:

A Human creature

   born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive.

To him, a touch is a blow,

   a sound is a noise,

   a misfortune is a tragedy,

   a joy is an ecstasy,

   a friend is a lover,

   a lover is a god!

And failure is DEATH!!

Add to this already cruelly delicate organism,

   the overpowering necessity to create—

Create, CREATE! . . .

So that without the creating

   of music, or poetry, or books,

Or buildings or something of meaning,

His very breath is cut off from him.

He must create,

   must pour out creation.

By some strange, unknown inward urgency,

   he is only ALIVE when

He is CREATING . . .

PEARL S. BUCK

Listen to me now

   to the things I have to say,

For tomorrow when the air is different

   you may forget and go away . . .

            KAHLIL GIBRAN

There are more things in heaven and earth,

   Horatio,

Than are drempt of in your philosophy.

            WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

            HAMLET

            Act 1, Scene V

      Quatrain LXVI

I sent my Soul through the invisible,

Some letter of the After-life to spell:

   And by and by my Soul return’d to me,

And answer’d I Myself am Heav’n and Hell:

            RUBAIYAT of OMAR KHAYYAM

            Fifth Edition of the Translation

Is all that we see or seem

But a dream

   within (the) Dream? . . .

            EDGAR ALLEN POE

Poetry is the reason for Music . . .

            RICHARD WAGNER

. . . But the gardens I planted

         are still young—

the songs I sang will still be Sung!

            HUEXOTZIN

            Prince of Texcoco

            CA. 1484

I can only leave behind me (dream) fragments

   as a man is fated to do . . .

I (now) seek rest for my lonely Heart.

            GUSTAV MAHLER

For small creatures such as we, the vastness (of space) is bearable only through Love.

            Dr. CARL SAGAN

            CONTACT

Every (poet) dips his (pen) in his own Soul.

            HENRY WARD BEECHER (1813-1887)

There are only two possibilities . . .

either there are no inhabited planets, or there are!

Both are equally terrifying.

            ARTHUR C. CLARK

Now, I am become Death . . . destroyer of Worlds!

            J. ROBERT OPPENHEIMER

            FROM ANCIENT HINDU SANSCRIT

A little song,

A little dance,

A little seltzer down your pants.

            CHUCKLES THE CLOWN

            The Mary Tyler Moore Show

The world wears many masks,

   but non so deceitful as the masks of virtue and piety.

            TIM BURTON

Dreams . . . the third star on the right and straight on till morning.

            P. PAN

I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.

            DOROTHY

Not all who wander, are lost.

            J. R. R. TOLKEIN

IMAGINATION is far more important than knowledge.

            ALBERT EINSTEIN

If you are broken,

   it is only because you are brittle . . . unmalleable!

            THE LION IN WINTER

Take careful aim, VERY FAST!

W. EARP

MY Poetry

is nothing more, nothing less than this—

A Chisel . . . sculpting!

   cutting!

   carving!

   shaping!

   molding,

   caressing,

To Embrace . . . to contemplate . . .

   to release, the seductive and alluring genesis of Thought

   that always existed in the pure living stone of Reality;

That I might interpret what I see of the Wonders of Life

   and the Visions and Images of Dreams flowing by me . . .

That secret sacred soul of Poetry,

   the enigmatic, capricious muse that comes to visit

   but, only at Her whim.

My Poetry

   is the mystic driving pain of the mind . . .

The relief from a ruptured heart too full and overflowing

   with GOD’s mystery and awe

   and pen and paper are the stitches and bandages

Which prevent my real self from bleeding forth

   upon your innocent, unsuspecting self;

The inner Soul . . . the outer Voice . . . the music of Thought.

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DEDICATED with LOVE to my

HEATHER MARIE

You came to me from the realm of the Angels

too few years ago and

I have much to tell you of LIFE

and this world

But, you may already be too much a part of it to hear ME . . .

break a leg!

THE LAST DAYS

BUT understand this,

   that in the Last Days

   there will be times