Where the sound is available on my poems just click the arrow next
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
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.
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
One man's take on life told thru humorous short stories from his childhood on into his mid-50's; from feeling like an outcast in school to being an adult. His intent: hope. Hope in that you shall see, no matter how rough life can seem -and is- at times, that you may be able to enjoy it. Each story will bring a laugh, a smile, a tear, a lesson.
The 23rd Annual Book Awards said:
"We Really Need To Laugh" shares “memories which will resonate with many readers. Overall a creative presentation of the author’s life given in a rather sing-song poetic story telling style; a pleasant read"
Paige Swanson inherits her aunt's mansion and moves to Savannah, Georgia. There she meets Cash Wilkins, the architect hired to restore the home to its full glory, and Bradley, the resident ghost - a Confederate soldier killed in the Battle of Chickamauga.
Locals believe Civil War treasure's hidden in the mansion. Paige's new home becomes a target for thieves. Both Cash and Bradley vie to protect her. Who will succeed? Will Paige find an even greater treasure; romance with Cash?
This novel weaves a tale of romance, history, and ghostly mystery that keeps readers enthralled from the first page to the last.
In a world where everything is not as it seems, it can be deadly uncovering secrets that have been concealed within the shadows for years. Across the sand dunes and under the castle of The Flarein Royal Family, there lies an ancient city that once was the one of the largest trade centers in all of Trindavin; however, it is now nothing more than a dark place full of bloodthirsty bandits and gladiators. This dark secret kept from the world is only of the many the mysterious Royal Family of Flarein withhold. When everything breaks lose, the reality of life's cruelty and clarity challenges the growth of the young Princess Melainie. In the end, will she grow, or will she fall further into the dark abyss of the secrets shrouding her past, present, and future?