Poetry Writings Artwork and stories from Neil Furby

Oct 31, 2006 at 06:36 o\clock

The Secret

The secret

In the profoundest ocean
There is a rainbow shell,
It is always there, shining most stilly
Under the greatest storm waves
And under the happy little waves
That the old Greek called "ripples of laughter"
And you listen, the rainbow shell
Sings - in the profoundest ocean.
It is always there, singing most silently !

Katherine Mansfield

Oct 31, 2006 at 05:53 o\clock

This is becoming a habit

The law of novelty is based on well known psychological principles of habitulation - the gradual loss of interest by an organism in repeated stimuli.

Habitulation is the single force that has pushed art always in a consistent direction ever since the first work of art was made

In a consumer society this principle has been used for other uses  rather than the Arts

But is it all art in differing forms anyway ??

Who knows

I am sure I saw a coke bottle in the cave drawings

@Neil Furby

Oct 31, 2006 at 05:48 o\clock

Poetry Cafe New Zealand "Namaya reads his stuff"

Hello Poetry Lovers
Poetry Cafe will be held at a later date this November. Our guest poet Namaya hails from Vermont and is visiting NZ as part of a world tour. We are happy to be ensconced back at Cruz Cafe & Bar in Porirua. Please note that November meeting will be Friday November 24.


Namaya is "the high wire performance artist of the spoken word scene," as described by one reviewer.  With his virtuoso show of music and stories, he is one of the leading spoken word artists in the US. In 2006 he is on tour in Ireland, Japan, and New Zealand.  With his band Jazz Beat Blues Poetry Ensemble he has toured in Europe with performances at Cafe Teatret in Denmark, Winston and Badcuyp in Holland, Cellar in Brighton, and Apples n' Snakes in London. He has been featured at the Nuyorican Café and Bowery Poetry Club in NYC and venues throughout the Northeast in the US.

All products and performance proceeds go to support Grace Cares, a not-for-profit foundation for grass roots Third World community development.

This solo show is political satire: Amerika Uber Alles; Men of Enron: If Men Swore on their Dicks Instead of the Bible; a bit of love/lust with Necrophilia Blues and Love Junkie; Land Mine Hop; Jazz Detective Story; and a mix of other politically incorrect and wry works. Often it leaves the audience astonished bemused, but delighted. The show is a mix of music, guitar, improv and story telling. "Great fun!" said one viewer.

Nuyorican Café in NYC said, “Great show!”

"Brilliant!" exclaimed Apples and Snakes in London.

"Encore!": The Winston in Amsterdam.

"Sensuous, playful, thought provoking"

"Spoken word performance at its best."

"...a master craftsman of the spoken and written word"

T. has two successful books, Eros to Godhead and God Sex Politics, and publishing credits in numerous US and international magazines. He has performed throughout the US and abroad.

Namaya will be supported by original guitar music with Mika.

"Don't forget FREE ENTRY & GREAT PRIZES available for poets on our popular OPEN MIC"

Where and when:
> Friday 24 November, 7.30pm
> Cruz Cafe & Bar
>Serlby Street, Poriua (opposite Countdown, next door to Video Shop)

Oct 30, 2006 at 05:05 o\clock

Sea bed New Zealand

@ N Furby

Oct 30, 2006 at 04:54 o\clock



In a dark living room
before a burning candle we look at each other in silence

and the transmutation takes place:
like in a movie theater faces from several ages emerge
which for an instant have the privilege of meeting each other again

as we move away one meter we place ourselves as a century ago
as we move away two meters, as two centuries ago
and our face changes
the farther away the more a sorcerer

we travel guided by aromas
childhood resembles the Middle Ages
the far ends of the living room, prehistory
and ferns sprout from the silhouettes

centuries of steps and glances
very near us we notice a baby

the present is an embrace before the flame that when going out
will plunge us in the chaos of not seeing each other

© 2002, Luis Eduardo Rendón

© Translation: 2006, Nicolás Suescún

Poem of the Week :

Oct 24, 2006 at 05:07 o\clock

Modern Version of The Scream


Oct 24, 2006 at 05:03 o\clock

We have an American poet for Nov Poetry Cafe getting in the mood


If you asked what it is all about
I would say a field a green field
in the turning rows a killdeer
and after that barbed wire
the hedge with its cardinals
a blacktop then another field

Corn    one of the main things
after water    and before milk
for whiskey is in it    and grits
gold for chickens    pearls before swine
there is a factory in every plant
if we could be properly humble

it is the greatness of the nation
along with cartoon animation
automobiles and rock 'n roll
jazz and basketball evolved here
but not one other U.S. God
just the corn's imperial row

on row then Sylvester Stallone
and airbrushed Elvis thank you
very much ladies and gentlemen
Presley Dylan and the Supremes
no I would say a field a vast field
at the center top-hogs and cattle

then art the cites New York
Chicago Houston Seattle man
told me last week experts can
teach starlings to talk     hell
televangelists may yet witness
in terza rima each stalk of corn

contributes it has been so
hybridized with its immense
ears it no longer resembles
maize it is what we have left
to barter for oil and microchips
tons of it siloed and elevated

to float us through droughts
and wars and speculations we ask
which will most cogently represent us
_Leaves of Grass_ or _The Simpsons_
there is the idea that every
living thing is a subset of human

control and the other notion
that though we may go on
a few hundred or thousand
years the poison has spilled
no more land will be made
the search for another arable

planet may prove moot as the
search for earthly sentience
meanwhile this taco here
crunches in the great scheme of
things we persist one people one
of the potential fates of corn

Rodney Jones
The Washington and Lee University Review
Volume 55, Number 2

Oct 22, 2006 at 22:35 o\clock


Assonance is the resemblance or similiarity in sound between vowels followed by different consonants, as in "lake-fate," "dike-knight", and "trodden-cobbles."

Oct 22, 2006 at 22:29 o\clock

State of the word an american point of view

"What has happened in poetry, as in much the rest of the culture, is a great homogenization. One can practice the accepted forms or resign oneself to obscurity, and many, most, of the poets outside the academy have done exactly that. They pass poems to one another and publish in the handful of publications that accept outsiders. Primarily they work and either self-publish or publish one another in small inexpensive editions that the general public would not even recognize as a book. Most of the poetry I read that might "matter" has almost no exposure at all to an audience beyond a few interconnected renegade cabals in what remains of the literary underground."

Oct 22, 2006 at 06:54 o\clock

A moment in time

The birds sing/the wind blows/a spider makes a web/clouds

move across the sky/the sea tides in and out/crabs scamper

 across the sea bed/shoals of fish dash here and there/boats

move across the sea/trains pass /cars dash here to there/bikes

pedal past/shoes pad by/the fridge hums /the tap drips/

I scratch my head and make a cup of tea

Neil Furby


Oct 17, 2006 at 22:04 o\clock

Viktor Neborak


Viktor Neborak, a tall imposing figure with a booming voice that makes a microphone come to life when he performs his poetry, was born in 1961 and is one of the leading representatives of the mid-to-late 1980s cultural revival in Ukraine. He is best known as a poet and founding member (along with Yuri Andrukhovych and Oleksander Irvanets) of the Bu-Ba-Bu literary performance group that gained enormous popularity in the late 1980s and 1990s in Ukraine. The syllables of the group's name stand for burlesque (burlesk), a puppet show or farce (balahan), and buffoonery (bufonada). Neborak has also been active as a prose writer, translator, essayist, and cultural activist, as well as a performer with the rock band Neborok,

Oct 17, 2006 at 22:00 o\clock


(a show in verse)


It rises up like a head,
the lopped off head of a vagrant.
It utters words from the beyond
once, twice, and for the third time:
The all-seeing flying Baroque
hangs above the city square’s horde.
Blood clots drip in the air, the torn cut
casts a deep and heavy shadow:
An invisible ax has entered the city,
headless bodies are thrown from the scaffold,
gawkers have drunken their fill of cheap blood,
and will scrape off the rusty smudge from the forehead
Are you devouring TV soaps?
You gaze at dragons behind the glass!
The wrecking ball from Fellini’s Orchestra
has come to life and breaks through your wall —
Remember, you can’t hide anywhere!
The square is coming to the hiding places, the square!
The feast rinses the dark cobblestones
and moves to the heavens of the Renaissance

© 2005, Viktor Neborak

© Translation: 2005, Michael M. Naydan

Oct 16, 2006 at 00:18 o\clock

211th Chorus

, from Mexico City Blues

The wheel of the quivering meat conception
Turns in the void expelling human beings,
Pigs, turtles, frogs, insects, nits,
Mice, lice, lizards, rats, roan
Racinghorses, poxy bubolic pigtics,
Horrible, unnameable lice of vultures,
Murderous attacking dog-armies
Of Africa, Rhinos roaming in the jungle,

Vast boars and huge gigantic bull
Elephants, rams, eagles, condors,
Pones and Porcupines and Pills-
All the endless conception of living beings
Gnashing everywhere in Consciousness
Throughout the ten directions of space
Occupying all the quarters in & out,
From super-microscopic no-bug
To huge Galaxy Lightyear Bowell
Illuminating the sky of one Mind-
Poor! I wish I was free
of that slaving meat wheel
and safe in heaven dead

By Jack Kerouac

Oct 15, 2006 at 09:13 o\clock

Béla Kádár mother and child

Béla Kádár

Oct 14, 2006 at 23:56 o\clock

Xmas poetree



Can I have a balloon of poetry full of muse mate ship and verse brimming with the joy of life the glory that is this life this million heart beats apart and together with like souls on this blue orb we go round and around lets tag a ride on the tale of a comet fly to the cosmos and never never look back

@ Neil Furby

Oct 14, 2006 at 08:15 o\clock

Love not seeing

 love's not seeing,
smelling, touching, tasting
it more survives
in inner senses.

this  love is based in you,
who somehow see me
through the visions of words,
who share images
so safely in mind.

@Neil Furby

Oct 13, 2006 at 05:48 o\clock

The Inlet

Joshua Tararo Aged 10 years

Celebrate the Inlet

With swaying waves rocking the boats

So sweetly up and down

With buoys looking like peeping moles

Up to see and down to hide

People on the beach crushing shells as they run along

Sounding like Christmas paper being opened

Crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch

With wind whistling in our ears

With a light breeze in the air

It smelt like a lovely sea salt aroma

I look at it all from a distance

that’s the best way for me

Oct 11, 2006 at 08:50 o\clock

Philip Larkin Poem


Watching the shied core
Striking the basket, skidding across the floor,
Shows less and less of luck, and more and more

Of failure spreading back up the arm
Earlier and earlier, the unraised hand calm,
The apple unbitten in the palm.

Oct 10, 2006 at 07:29 o\clock

Gareth Furby my nephew Reporting from Iraq for BBC TV


Oct 10, 2006 at 07:13 o\clock

Jay Furby my nephew being cool at his PR bash The Furnace