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Mary Ann Dow Stuart Gardiner

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Below is the poem entitled Mary Ann Dow Stuart Gardiner which was written by poet Alex Gardiner. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Mary Ann Dow Stuart Gardiner

My Mother Mary Ann Dow Gardiner 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.

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  1. Date: 10/16/2012 7:15:00 PM
    Love the language envisioned in this write. Congrats. :)