Biography of Anthony Fry
A Retired Chef, love sport, all round. I just love playing poker on line only play freeroll tourny's and free play very interesting game. I have only recently started to write poetry very daunting subject bit scary at first. I have my website,
Please pop by and leave your comments. I live on a small Island in the English Channel called Jersey very unspoilt.
- "Palindrome Poetry." -new-
Anthony Fry Poems
A Romance In The Night Sky.
Tempered by the friction, of each others loneliness. Brightly wooed, in our own glad glorious way. We chasing each other, along those milky ways.
Historic Rides Hallowed Fairground Scene...
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.
When I Was Young And In My Prime.
A touch responding to interpretation. Floating petals flushed cheeks kiss. A whisper lingering soft sweetness. Happy gazing at laughing blue eyes.
Floating Shadows Stroke Gentle Beauty.
Floating shadows stroke gentle beauty. Your small hands in my strong hands. A cheeky memory, your youth returning.
Gorgeous Jersey St. Aubin Bay.
A bright scarlet red sunrise, Paradise arrives again, seen as a bright maroon picture, that beautiful sea. I relax in Jersey's unique charming St. Aubin bay,
Don't rush by my sweet, seek with me allele life dreams ever more. Your sweet smile is so much pleasure, let's stroll down lovers way. A selection together, play tricks with my body in a beautiful world.
Lightning cracks, a lantern swings in a wild night. A mysterious ship, lurks off of Elizabeth Castle. Merry sailors bob along, near those rugged rocks.
A morning silver dew, that clings to grass. A Spiders Cocoon, blows into a south wind. Bullfrog on a lily leaf, croaks a lovers call.
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.
Mr & Mrs Re-Juvenating.
Smiling I just eagerly arrived home from work, end of another boring week. My wife is grinning getting ready, to stay at her old Mothers for a weekend. I am looking forward to going fishing and camping, a long weekend period.
A Garden, The Sycamore Seed.
A Garden, The Sycamore Seed. Butterflies I view them happily mating and retreating.
Happy New Year Quaint Vagabond.
Sing and Be Merry, Big Ben Sounds, Twelve Sure Chimes. This Old Year is going let it Vanish. Seek a Cup of Kindness. Perfect Strangers. Endeavour to Sing, For Auld Lang Syne.
Observation Of The Driftline.
Skylarks meandering motions, float on cold sea breezes. Rare sculptured ivory driftwood, sun bleached laying idle. Serene stillness, isolated dunes, ravished by wind and rain.
Santa's Glorious Mess At Christmas.
Our most glorious mess, excitedly tearing Christmas wrap. Is that beautiful mess, created on your own living room floor. Don't ever clean it up too quickly, just let it probe some more. Making sure those dreams live on, applied hints for eternity.
Vagaries of light in her garden, perpetually transfiguring.
Water lilies are lazily laying open, in golden sun rays.
Overwhelming fragrances, escape from espaliers of roses.
Those yellow buttercups, reflecting in those big blue eyes.
A young maiden dwells all alone, confused at her window.
Clasping her Grandmas locket, a sepia picture lays within.