Latest items:
Anthony Fry, 8 july 2012
A Royal Jersey Cream Tea.
The beauty of Raleighs dreams, held in Forts and Castles.
We imagine Elizabeth Castle, during the English Civil War.
A fiery eyed horse, thunder-beating hoofs fly a causeway.
Historic revelations, of gallantry, pirates, and highwaymen.
A Piper in the Castle, Royal music carried over St aubin bay.
King Charles II's wife, Queen Braganza had a tea mania.
That locked caddie, a Portuguese Queens aromatic magic.
Vigorous vapours, tea enthusiasm, that lingers longer.
Royal traditions, carried from her homeland in Portugal.
Lords and Lady's, had rich assumptions of spiced china teas.
Charles laid the foundations, for prize foreign teadrinking.
Gentlemen joking, in the presence of refind elegant lady's.
Exquisite niceties of etiquette, for an afternoon hour of tea.
Tea gossip not allowed was secrets, health, and sad news.
The pinkie used for balance, of the tea cup in the right hand.
Fruit jam and Jersey fresh cream, set fresh hot scones in style.
Royal Jersey cream tea not complete, without luxurious cream.
The thrill of creative effort, " A Royal Jersey Cream Tea" is born.
Scones and wonders from St Quen, vraic buns from Gorey village.
A Royal Jersey Cream Tea, addiction born for Century's to come.
Anthony Fry, 2 february 2012
Romantic Wind.
Love creating expectations, of perchance.
Warm embraces, carried on a perpetual wind.
Flirt with a handsome boy, melts body in mind.
Meet in a valley of paradise, winds silent.
Upon a hill high we sit, under an old oak in bliss.
It's then I steal a quick kiss, spring winds sigh.
Her face grins, at the open garden window.
Swirling golden hair, blowing in the wind.
Blossoms been and gone, fruits now swing.
Sunlight on the leaves, golden in the wind.
Anthony Fry, 24 january 2012
CICADA.
Cicada. Beautiful songs sung by strangers, piercing echoes through long hot summer days.
Silent sunset, streaks of silky yellow light, a golden glow, passionate cool twists.
Sunlight yellow lichened walls, intimacy secretly spiced with timeless possibilities.
White clouds building bridges, wonderful roads sailing from earth into blue sky.
Enjoying this cause in a quiescent period, their molt regeneration again begins.
A strategy called semelparity, lustily and greedily ready for their next resurrection.
An echelon of thorny hedge rows, visions of warmth sitting in green juniper-trees.
Hurry we have no time for ease, a magic dream is wrought for instant release.
Returning as cultural prehistoric symbols, immortals enjoying their journey over again.
Behold merry voices, understanding their mood, after maturation for seventeen years.
Never can enough female cicadas, satisfy this crazy behaviorism of hot intent males.
Individual loquacious voices echo, reasons right for deducing erotic sexual functions.
Esteemed in a maroon cloak, appearing on a shrub then shedding my garment.
Timeless Greek history BC, folklore introducing bronzed semi-skin female beauty.
Imagination running wild a humble lady bug, in her ornate colored fancy rigmarole.
Chinese Myths spoken and written, stories about exotic treasures of reincarnation.
A females shiny brown shell, using her powers for future generations to survive.
Manic mates pole dancing their way, into his red lust filled eyes of wanton greed.
Hordes of hungry genus magi-cicada, rapture their unison to sounds of gentleness.
Observers look in awe, as you give your life for your own light of a new morning.
During it's time above ground, busy male cicada resonates music from his abdomen.
Attracted by sounds and singing a spider, in his web so snugly, watching, waiting.
The cicadas provocative appetite, an esteemed final showdown of sexual identity.
With elfin wings glamour of a lotus, humming back and fore making her offspring.
Aliens surviving on pure water, muses producing non stop for two weeks without food.
Female cicada flit like a dragonfly, patiently between scalloped branches inseminating.
A cicada nymph trembling, gently falls to warm dry earth from whence it first alighted.
I bade thee feast at your delight till bursting, I will replenish myself a thousand fold.
Amongst ivory white weathered dry bones, snug and cosy from whence I have come.
Dancing and chattering garrulously cicada, invisibly engraved in dry earth tunnels.
Energy possessed from root sucking, an unending timeless aphrodisiac effect.
Life imbibing sap freely flowing, once more regenerating young limbs alive again.
Anthony Fry, 9 january 2012
Kaleidoscope Ink.
Your beauty makes me Think.
My love for you Countersink.
Your partners hand Interlink.
Coloured hair ribbons Pink.
Diamonds for my Cufflink.
A generated promise Wink.
Yellow moon shining Oink.
Winds blow so strong I Blink.
Ice in those cocktails Clink.
Marvelous fundamental Link.
Living as a magnificent Mink.
Ripe joyous harvest Uplink.
A seashore its beauty Drink.
Weed will Sometimes Stink.
A sunbeam shone in Downlink.
Living in poverty Doublethink.
Most purposefully Rethink.
You can painfully Hoodwink.
Eternal we can all Outthink.
Happy as a Chinese Chink.
Skin wrinkled will it shrink.
Anthony Fry, 6 january 2012
Embracing A Life Challenge In New York City.
We arrive into New York City full of Contradictions.Old residents Algonquians and Iroquois Indians gone.Searching for Paradise among those grazing Buffalo.Squirrels red coats remind us of Dead British troops.Some forgotten a treasured Scalp on that Indian belt.Vicissitudes of Human Life in Battles not forgotten.Oh! I would have more lives to lose for my country.Continental Musket balls converted back to red dust.America's deceased Son's & Daughters remembered.Washington's farewell bade from “black-Sams Tavern”.A City enthusing flavour's of Seafarers & Buccaneers.Lobster Palaces in Times Square Gay Nineties History.Winston Churchill's Mother Jenny schooled in an Alley.North Shore Oyster Vikings living in “Captains Row”.Weird eccentrics congregate in cliches in Central Park.Creamery Park “bit of Patrician London” remembered.Largest most populous metropolitan area in the world.An Intimate skyline penetrated with outstanding beauty.Nationalities dominating a metropolis of Architecture.Butterflies flutter quivering songs of meadow-larks echo.A library terrace is just one of many beating City hearts.Lower Broadway precariously hidden in a great canyon.Dwarfed a forgotten smoking chimney bellows smoke.Woolworth's site sitting on nineteenth century history.Remembering hostelry days of Pepys Knickerbockers.Dracula's big eyes peering at you on Washington Avenue.Cock crowing on top of Fifth Avenue Heckscher Building.Indescribable sensations of a Condor or Vulture missing.Hoofed Locusts overgrazing in big blossoming valley's.Destroying most of that outstanding beauty Gods Earth.Real People finding quite refuge in a distant wilderness. Blue-Tailed Mole Skunk have now moved to sandy Polk.Manhattan being ruled by a murky early morning fog.Kill Van Kull Sound arched by a Bayonne Steel Bridge.Great cantilever bridges spanning over a vast east river.Panoramic views Madison Avenue & Fifty-second street.That all embracing vast unimpeded Rockefeller Centre.Giants hovering over a guild-ed domed World Building.Two hundred and sixty miles of underground railway's.Leaving NYC you have a Million Rules and Rhythms.
Anthony Fry, 2 january 2012
There Is A Mouse In Our Kitchen.
Mickey mouse, a very famous grandad at last at peace.
His tired old bones, hidden in a secret chimney stack.
A witch turns a big pumpkin and six white mice into
the finest gold carriage, drawn by six shire horses.
We are always dreaming of that magic beautiful day.
A very loud tick-tock, tick-tock, of a large cuckoo clock,
booming out noisily, disturbing the dark silent night.
Lurking when the kitchen lights go out, its time to play.
To hear if a cat is purring, our arch enemy giving a warning.
Forever watching cat flap swinging, within a hostile world.
Hiding from the big nasty house cat, are all his friends.
Only daring to come outside, dancing about after it is dark.
Flourishing they are adapting to all of the latest trends.
Exploring in the durable shadows, like strange ghosts.
Coming and going rattling through them dish lockers.
A thrifty moonlight beam shines, on a yellow architrave.
Squeaking echoes, black droppings reveal our whereabouts.
Jump and skip, hurtling into the arenas busy nights.
Annoying the cat, an evening moth gently taps at the window.
Speed nimble as a mountain goat, in the growing gloom.
Mice flying In and out of their little holes like yo-yo's.
Flirting slyly with their own reflections, in dresser mirrors.
A mystery of bewilderment, most strangely elusive.
Living behind the labyrinth of old skirting boards.
A passage following the pipes, traveling back in time.
Unreachable murky dank coal cellars, a sanctity within.
Time an eternity, behind the black burnished grates.
Depths disclosed souls disappear, dropping into invisibility.
Cobwebs hanging from the joists, like condemned pirates.
Playing conkers with a black spider, in his diamond web.
He has got a shiny white coat, covering his pink skin.
He has little grey pointed ears, gorgeous glowing red eyes.
Also he has got a haunting shiny small black nose.
The heavy scent of a nest made of newspaper pieces.
Their accommodation with places to have their litter,
Displaying the longest tail, you ever did fancy to look at.
His brothers and sisters, playing skittles with frozen peas.
When he has got a mad tormenting humble sweet tooth,
sometimes enticed, by a forgotten saucer of vermouth.
Busy endless searching all night, to feed our appetites.
Hastening he is very happy, eating tomorrows dinner.
On a table lays supper, munching on a tasty toasted tea cake.
Toiling and roaming, drinking cold coffee, with stale cheese.
Never failing, he just loves licking mince pies at X-mas time.
Last but not least, he willingly washes our dirty dishes.
Anthony Fry, 17 november 2011
Historic Rides Hallowed Fairground Scenes
Fairground showman are joining another extinct species the dodo
built around the lives of real people, very dedicated to entertainment
nomads travelling the length and breadth of English countrysides
encompassing hidden mysteries, inventing unknown fascinations.
A kinetic pleasure a thousand years old, with beauty and simplicity
a tradesman's craft, spent creating such expressions, lost forever?
wonderful family pleasure we crave more, death defying magic feats
their solutions practical, an old enchanting and very unique culture.
The music sounding out above the screams of hidden mysteries
Freudian apocalyptic painted faces on creatures dominating rides
big wheel up! up! and away looking down, sweet candy floss stalls
the coconut shy the nut precariously placed to excite the thrower.
A carousel going round to the organ music, horses galloping merrily
roller coasters a reason for greater thrills, scream machines to enjoy
wow! the electricity created with bumper cars, each bullying happily
river caves unending, paddle flowing tubs, tranquil majestic scenery.
Children start with a toy to satisfy their initiation into the fairground fun
kids behold eyes darting here and there a wonderland, which ride next
come on boys and girls everyone wins a gold fish, no one loses here
live wall of death outstanding, gas filled coloured balloons, cuddly toy's.
Ghost train next with sticky strands, touching your face in the dark
skeletons appear out of the darkness, bony fingers stretching out
sounds that go screaming through you, creating a cold atmosphere
apparition twisting turning darkened tunnels, creating an Aladdin cave.
A big treat next on the menu, hot dog roll and onions, not to be missed
jellied eels, whelks, hamburgers, fish and chips, assorted game stalls
waltzer, octopus, paratrooper, switchback, rotor, cyclone, Astra glides
glorious fun of the fair, knocks and bruises worth the time and efforts.
Anthony Fry, 17 november 2011
Vicissitudes Of A Mating Strategy.
(The Black Widow Spider)
Female latrodectus Mactans, each like to be romantic,
a black widow spider, she prefers virile young mates,
preferable same species, for a quick short term affair,
mixing their genes, with the sexually appealing males.
Amazingly going busily about their every day duty,
their gnawing dark dangerous mysterious minds,
ideas working, according to complicated schemes,
like a secret message, caught between fascination.
The most optimum reproductive strategy for females,
strike like lightning, excitingly mating in abundance,
creating picaresque extraordinary, bursting hot desires,
In a father who will attend, ardently to their offspring.
Visions of each fascinating, passionate daring attraction,
characteristics acquired in the young will be transmitted,
for unique adoring identification, in generations to come,
meteoric pulses invisibly ballooning, into the cool winds.
Spiders on webs, swaying and swinging like hanged pirates,
spinning that never ending, sticky velvet hex-icon web,
finest silks glistening, like silver in a shimmering sun,
Was it spun by a black widow spider for her cocoon.
When caught the possessed male, is not there to stay,
having charismatic fun included, and wooed excitement,
can you imagine, commanding a duel in early morning dew,
he dared for her honour, in meadows of clover and daisy's.
Anthony Fry, 7 november 2011
A Royal Jersey Cream Tea.
The beauty of Raleighs dreams, held in Forts and Castles.
We imagine Elizabeth Castle, during the English Civil War.
A fiery eyed horse, thunder-beating hoofs fly a causeway.
Historic revelations, of gallantry, pirates, and highwaymen.
A Piper in the Castle, Royal music carried over St aubin bay.
King Charles II's wife, Queen Braganza had a tea mania.
That locked caddie, a Portuguese Queens aromatic magic.
Vigorous vapours, tea enthusiasm, that lingers longer.
Royal traditions, carried from her homeland in Portugal.
Lords and Lady's, had rich assumptions of spiced china teas.
Charles laid the foundations, for prize foreign tea drinking.
Gentlemen joking, in the presence of refind elegant lady's.
Exquisite niceties of etiquette, for an afternoon hour of tea.
Tea gossip not allowed was secrets, health, and sad news.
The pinkie used for balance, of the tea cup in the right hand.
Fruit jam and Jersey fresh cream, set fresh hot scones in style.
Royal Jersey cream tea not complete, without luxurious cream
The thrill of creative effort, " A Royal Jersey Cream Tea" is born.
Scones and wonders from St Quen, vraic buns from Gorey village.
A Royal Jersey Cream Tea, addiction born for Century's to come.
Latest comments:
21 november 2024
Jaga
Gdybym ci ja umiała ;) Ale zanucić można jakby
21 november 2024
:))
20 november 2024
sam53
smacznego....
20 november 2024
nuty są? poproszę
20 november 2024
dzięki... :))))
20 november 2024
można się nauczyć ale po co...
20 november 2024
Teresa Tomys
Jest nas więcej...
20 november 2024
Jakieś przekłamanie w tekście i nie wiem z
20 november 2024
Mnie deszcz zawsze kołysze do snu :)
20 november 2024
Szkoda, że nie ma już podpięć.
20 november 2024
To ja.
20 november 2024
Tak :)) W ogóle, mosty NY są bardzo klimatyczne:)
21 november 2024
wiesiek
21 november 2024
Jaga
20 november 2024
wiesiek
19 november 2024
Eva T.
19 november 2024
wiesiek
19 november 2024
Jaga
19 november 2024
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19 november 2024
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19 november 2024
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19 november 2024
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