Take Your Burdens to Jesus
This is a 5-7-5 poetry writing
Pays: One point.
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Location: Australia
Gender: Male
Born: Scotland
Interests: Sculpture, poetry, Plant propagation, photography
Member: Premier Author
Joined: December 2010
I am happy to receive constructive reviews on my poetry. However it gets a little tiring being told either ie:-
I will never like your vernacular, or, why do you insist on using this language? Really I think if the reviewer cannot take the time to read the Author's notes they should not be reviewing.
I explain in the notes why I use the vernacular and why I will continue to use it. Do yourselves a favour and please just pass by my work. Why does it bother you that this one silly Auld Scottish goat just loves his Scottish heritage and the way he used to speak as a wee boy? Surely there is room for my little foibles here on this fabulous FanStory!!!
Please,please, stick to reviewing the poetry and not personalize the way I speak or the content. I am not allowed to defend my poetry in replies but I will defend the right to my heritage. so please if you do not like what you see;
"Get oan yer bike Jimmy":(

I am situated in the beautiful Blue Mountains of New South Wales, Australia. I create my sculptures and poetry in the scenic town of Bullaburra which is at an altitude of 2,500 feet, between Penrith and the famous tourist town of Katoomba. In real life I manage a small wholesale nursery here in the Blue Mountains. I propogate everything from African violets,Maidenhair ferns and all other sorts of exotic plants. I hope you enjoy my passion, in this case for poetry and the sculpting and photography of all types of exciting Animals .To view my sculptures and other works go to this address:

I use the Scottish vernacular in 90% of my poems. The musical sounds and twists of the Scottish words used famously by 'Robert Burns' gives colour and with a little imagination and patience from the reader, makes for a experience in poetry which differs from the usual. They say the English language is hard to master. Here all you need as I have mentioned is patience of mind and no preconceived ideas as to what is normal.
The portrait of me above is a painting by Artist Karen Hull.
The Auld Yin.

Hurrah we are aw daft:( to recognize this fact proves we are aw sane. Alex Gardiner.
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alexgardiner: invites you into his world.


August 1, 2013 at 5:19AM


Where the sound is available on my poems just click the arrow next
to the
loud speaker graphic which is located just above the image.
If it does not work you may
need to download "Quick Time Player' from the internet. It is a free
I had to download this twice before it finally worked.
I have also found different browsers use different media players.
So, if you cannot say for argument get the sound on Firefox,
switch to internet explorer of some other browser.

December 2, 2010 at 12:52AM
    alexgardiner: The portrait of me above is a painting by Artist Karen Hull.
    The Auld Yin.
    December 7, 2010 at 1:13AM
    Tillom Gliss: I've just gotten back from your art page...I see you are just as talented an artist as you are a poet...or is it that you are just as talented a poet as you are an artist? And your Dad too! Thank you for this entertaining visit! You are a great host! Jo : )
    December 19, 2010 at 12:14AM
    Grumpylumpy: "Pit it aw in a chopperupperer and stuff yer chook,
    up it's wee erse until it's twice as big, an' then hae a look", this is so funny.

    I'm a wee spud ma self and oeften wunderd if stuffin wid impruv ma skin tone.

    I'd give ye more of a score son, but thur too meenjy here tae allow fur a we bonus.Payin fur it tae. Nae chance!

    I happen tae ken that in Edinburgh things sound more gentrified. But am no ginne moan tae much on this the noo.

    Less grumpy wae sum laughs son.


    Yur ma hero noo lad!
    October 1, 2011 at 7:02AM
    Mary.Clark51: Gad to meet some one else who is from across the pond, I am from Perth Perthshire Scotland. Lets see--If you can say its a braugh brick moon lighkt nickt to nick yer alright ya ken, or some thing like that, a good way to find out if you ave had too many pints. Cheers M
    November 30, 2011 at 1:14AM
    alexgardiner: Halloween. A poem.

    December 2, 2011 at 3:22AM
    alexgardiner: Mary Ann Dow Stuart Gardiner. My Mum.
    A poem.

    Mary Ann Dow Stuart wis her maiden name,
    Noo, she wisnae a Scoatish Lass o' fame.
    Born in nineteen hunner an' five on the fifth o' May.
    gorgeous she wis' at oany time o' the day.

    Like aw Mums, she wis a'ways there,
    nae ither Mum a ken kin 'onestly compare.
    Noo am no telling yea ivery instance o' her life,
    An' let's say, tae ma faither Jack she wis the perfict wife.

    Wan instance in time with you I wid like tae share,
    aye durin' WWII ma an' me hid quite a scare.
    It wis a chapter in ma life as a wee wee boy,
    stull in ma nappies an' playin' wae toys.

    We lived in a twa roomed tenement flat,
    six folks an' Bonny wee Tibby the cat.
    Noo the oanly way tae hiv a bath,
    wis in a tin wan ,which wis three foot wan inch, an' a half.

    Noo this bath wis oanly fur this wee lad yea see,
    an' it wis dragged oot in front o' the windae jist afore tea.
    Noo tea in oor hoose wis aboot six o'clock at night,
    an' a luved ma bath an' niver pit up a fight.

    It wis oan a very dark an' a very quiet winter's night,
    aye the night Ma an' me hid a terrible blidy fright.
    Suddenly we were in the middle o' a German air-raid,
    the smile oan ma ma's face quickly began tae fade.

    She climbed up oan the bunkers sink tae hiv a look,
    twa seconds she's up there that's aw it took.
    Pulled back the blackoot tae see the night sky,
    oh my god ma ma let oot this fearsum' cry.

    She heard the whistle o' a German Bomb startin' tae fall,
    an' she thocht it might jist pay us twa a call.
    The whistle o' that fearsum bomb got louder then stopped,
    ma mum fell backwards an' oan tap o' this wee boy did flop.

    Aye, right oan tap o' this wee naked Body in the said tin bath,
    wan minit her scream an' that enormous crash.
    That's why noo I hiv a flat head an' am eternally daft,
    naw folks a dinny blame yea fur hivin' a laff.

    It's funny noo but no fur mum at that time,
    jings droapin' bombs oan wummin an' wee bairns is surely a terrible crime,
    As fur that Gerry bomb it did land wae a lot of malice,
    jist up the road in Edinburgh's Holyrood palace.

    The Auld Yin.

    December 2, 2011 at 3:31AM
    Mary.Clark51: Hope you have a Merry Christmas.
    December 24, 2011 at 2:43AM
    Mary.Clark51: I managed to hear your voice, and me own native sound, how grand you sounded to me. I cant tell you how much the sound ment to me ta very much.
    December 24, 2011 at 2:49AM
    alexgardiner: Thanks Bonny Lass.Happy new year to you:)
    January 11, 2012 at 9:33PM
    Cletus Hardiman: Alex....Just keep on writing the way you want to write! You are right. If the reader cannot understand your notes or does not take time to read them, then they should not critique your poem! Cletus ( Clete ) Hardiman
    November 24, 2012 at 10:23AM

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