"developer" poems
Most days, you're not a woman developer,
you're a developer.
You work just as hard,
You (try to) talk just as fast
You keep your feelings under the surface (barely)
Actually, scratch that
You're always a woman developer.
you're just so used to internalizing these habits
Trying to have confidence in your skills
despite the impostor syndrome pulling you down each time slowly, like quicksand
Trying to make up for the confidence you never had
compared to someone who always had it all
Trying to not cry in the kitchen because god who
is allowed to have feelings
Trying not to talk about men who made you uncomfortable because oh my god
for the fact that people call women overreacting
most men seem to make every little statement about them, have you noticed?
oh wow, isn't this just reverse sexism?
oh wow, can I even talk to women?
Being so vocal about being queer and Indian but if you make
one noise
one sound
one phrase
about your experience as a woman
because in such welcoming company you subconsciously thought why not
You let down your guard
But
There goes the shattered glass as the topic of gender-based discrimination is finally broached
There goes the thing nobody ever talks about
There starts the debate you did not want to participate in
"Oh wow you're so harsh to these guys"
"We were just slamming what they were doing, you slammed their actual personality wow"
"I just said they sounded like a brogrammer"
"sure if you say so"
"Isn't that just an arbitrary description"
How do you explain
How do you describe every nuanced experience about
Every male in your life
who have been exactly like this to you
How do you explain the light discrimination
The harsh discrimination
The systemic problem as a whole
How can you condense all this into a workplace environment talk
Where you don't usually talk about this?
Where you don't know if you can actually talk about this
Where you know that you ultimately don't want to talk about this
cuz how can you explain these feelings that they can never understand
You shut up and move on with coding.
But inside, you're conflicted with ideas of presentations to express the fact, or never speak about this again
Because in the end,
You're just a developer, not a woman developer to them.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 10:42 AM UTC
By all accounts he’s had a lifelong case of OCD.
“Donald was a disruptive tyke”- his teachers all agree.
He was not much of a scholar but, as a youth, excelled in sports.
As a builder and developer he was often seen in Courts.
When it comes to matters of the heart, he sadly is no wiser
He loves them and he leaves them. He’s a noted womanizer.
Oh, he pays them for their trouble; that much I will allow.
Still he’s never had compunction over breaking wedding vows.
Now he is our President and making noise on Trade.
If he doesn’t get his way beware his twitterverse tirade.
He's paying farmers Billions to forgo their tillage.
Hillary was wrong- It takes a child to raze a village.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 4:45 PM UTC
Film developer cacophonies, and journalistic hoarding
My friends wanted to record our last year –
Accurately – not succinctly
Abstractly – and yet, directly, bluntly
Vividly – in photography, quote notebooks, Dictaphone diatribes
That’s hilarious – scribble it down.
Can you repeat your brilliance?
If you could paraphrase that – well…what would you say?
Take another one. She wasn’t smiling.
I don’t want to smile.
My friend sidles up beside me – beaming grin
Sticking her fingers into my mouth
Pulling opposite and up
And her fingers tasted like
The musty pages of books without pictures.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
*A long long time ago
Before digital took over the planet.
My grandfather was an airman in WW2.
He never dropped a single bomb
or even fired a weapon in that war..
He was a bit of a pacifist
live and let live was his way.
Instead he aimed camera lenses
at the Germans snapping their country
on his belly lay on the planes belly.
At the airbase in the UK he printed his photographs.
enough to cover an airfield.
He met an English lady in the darkroom.
They printed their photographs together
mixing fixer and developer.
She got used to his crooked smile and big hands
He got used to her being there.
When the war ended he returned to the states
and opened a camera and photography shop.
He built a darkroom by hand
when it was finished he went back to England
on a cargo ship
and found the lady from in the darkroom.
he asked her to marry him
and she accepted.
when they returned to New York
he showed her the darkroom he built for them.
On the door was a note
held by a thumbtack
It said I fell in love with you
in the dark
but I want you to follow the light
with me for the rest of our lives.
A year later my dad was born
with a crooked smile and big hands
and also his love of photography.
He had the eye for
color and shadow and light.
After I was born I did not follow the
love of photography.
But would get into trouble at school
for writing poems in the margins
of my work books.
I found grandmas note that was
pinned on the darkroom door
she passed a way a few weeks ago.
And I was moved to tell this story.
Follow the light Grandma love.
look for a big man with a crooked smile
and big hands hes waiting for you.*
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 5:17 PM UTC
*The man with a crooked smile and big hands
A long long time ago
Before digital took over the planet.
My grandfather was an airman in WW2.
He never dropped a single bomb
or even fired a weapon in that war..
He was a bit of a pacifist
live and let live was his way.
Instead he aimed camera lenses
at the Germans snapping their country
on his belly lay on the planes belly.
At the airbase in the UK he printed his photographs.
enough to cover an airfield.
He met an English lady in the darkroom.
They printed their photographs together
mixing fixer and developer.
She got used to his crooked smile and big hands
He got used to her being there.
When the war ended he returned to the states
and opened a camera and photography shop.
He built a darkroom by hand
when it was finished he went back to England
on a cargo ship
and found the lady from in the darkroom.
he asked her to marry him
and she accepted.
when they returned to New York
he showed her the darkroom he built for them.
On the door was a note
held by a thumbtack
It said I fell in love with you
in the dark
but I want you to follow the light
with me for the rest of our lives.
A year later my dad was born
with a crooked smile and big hands
and also his love of photography.
He had the eye for
color and shadow and light.
After I was born I did not follow the
love of photography.
But would get into trouble at school
for writing poems in the margins
of my work books.
I found grandmas note that was
pinned on the darkroom door.
She had it in the things
I had clear from her room.
she passed a way a few weeks ago.
And I was moved to tell this story.
Follow the light Grandma love.
look for a big man with crooked smile
and big hands hes waiting for you.*
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 4:20 PM UTC
You can say what you say.
But all they perceive is a modern fairytale.
Yes, all they want are the actions of our fairytale.
You can say what you say.
Yes, you can say what you say.
All they want are the actions of our fairytale.
Let us implement our so-called modern fairytale.
Indeed, you can say what you say.
Software developer, your clients want what they want.
I can imagine that program, together celebrating in harmony.
Computer programmer, your clients what want they want.
I can imagine that app, together celebrating in harmony.
Everybody singing, it wasn't a modern fairytale.
Thank you, Lord, (yes) it wasn't a modern fairytale.
Written By: The Senior Date: 12/04/2020
Nov 10, 2021
Nov 10, 2021 at 3:11 AM UTC
My memory is just a darkroom, where every picture ever taken by eye sight:
Waits.
Develops.
They accumulate in Black and white,
Positive and negative.
My mind the developer, my thoughts the water, removing the excess silver halide.
What remains is a picture, a memory taken from this very life
They hang from thin lines fastened by close pins so delicate and so fine
To dry,
To develop
And remain to live in the safelight within my mind.
But you see that light has left,
Now every picture is
Too over exposed,
Too vague
And too undefined.
I’ve had too much drink, so much smoke.
A stop bath of the wrong kind.
Too much green and blue light.
You see, my darkroom is too bright
Now the pictures that hung from the close pin lines of life
dilute,
shrivel
And fade.
Now,
What remains is a picture-less memory, and no clear recollection or reflection.
No darkroom for every photograph ever taken by eyesight,
No pictures of black and white.
There is just one final question…
Who am I?
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
The April morning's quiet
and so is the November.
Wherever people outnumber trees
or the dominant cover type
is unquiet. Nothing wrong with that.
Walt got it right, and Jane Jacobs:
the city is an experienced,
used beauty. Her toes are long,
nails thick and hair thin. Yet
her kisses can be sweet; or
smell of **** All my life I've tried to point my window toward
some narrow wedge of nature.
On ****** Ave., over the roof
beyond the chimneys to the park
where every dog was walked.
Could I survive soot and an air shaft now, pigeons and cats,
or even a desk in the legislature for my lot in life. How about
prison like Etheridge Knight,
Nazim Hikmet?
I've gotten soft.
When he builds that house in the pocket
wetland my window now looks out on,
the developer will have given me what I need.
Amphibian mortality,
gravel, fill,
oak, ash and maples felled. Good
to the last drop is our bitterness, our love.
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 11:03 AM UTC
I miss the satisfaction
of that little lever
advancing cellulose
frame by frame
for an unseen exposure
until developer hits film
producing an image
clicked at 1/60th of a second
in time
Oct 7, 2021
Oct 7, 2021 at 4:33 PM UTC
The Home Owners Association
Came by again today
With open glares at
The green crawling across my chestnut walls,
Blocking out my view of
Their pale tan plaster and
Baby blue curtains.
Fees clutched in hand
Eviction notices in their prayers,
They march up to a house,
Existing outside of their domain,
Bought by a grandfather
And never sold to no developer.
I watch with arms crossed
As they step past tomato plants
Whose fathers I planted with mine long ago.
Pleasantries exchanged
Mean nothing combined with
Cold eyes on me as
I politely tell them that their nobility
Has no jurisdiction.
Later when,
One let’s his dog dig up
Pieces of my lawn-less garden,
I stare from my curtain of leaves
At exposed roots,
The veins of a child’s loss reaching into air.
Tears will do no more than moisten the corners
As I walk outside
Camera in hand
Staring at a man
Who slowly droops
While shame dribbles back into his eyes.
Nothing is said,
Even when he turns and quietly walks away,
Leash held slack in hand
And dog loyally trailing behind.
Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 1:05 PM UTC
out goes
software developer
web designer
computer ****
mercahndise managers
vacancies now:
virtchandise manager
cloud transformation officers
outcome aggregator
data evangelist
sensemaking analyst
sales ninja
digital dynamo
happiness advocate
online community facilitator
web funster
you ready?
Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 7:19 PM UTC
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Transformation Tuesday w/ my bestie
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 3:35 PM UTC
*A long long time ago
Before digital took over the planet.
My grandfather was an airman in WW2.
He never dropped a single bomb
or even fired a weapon in that war..
He was a bit of a pacifist
live and let live was his way.
Instead he aimed camera lenses
at the Germans snapping their country
on his belly lay on the planes belly.
At the airbase in the UK he printed his photographs.
enough to cover an airfield.
He met an English lady in the darkroom.
They printed their photographs together
mixing fixer and developer.
She got used to his crooked smile and big hands
He got used to her being there.
When the war ended he returned to the states
and opened a camera and photography shop.
He built a darkroom by hand
when it was finished he went back to England
on a cargo ship
and found the lady from in the darkroom.
he asked her to marry him
and she accepted.
when they returned to New York
he showed her the darkroom he built for them.
On the door was a note
held by a thumbtack
It said I fell in love with you
in the dark
but I want you to follow the light
with me for the rest of our lives.
A year later my dad was born
with a crooked smile and big hands
and also his love of photography.
He had the eye for
color and shadow and light.
After I was born I did not follow the
love of photography.
But would get into trouble at school
for writing poems in the margins
of my work books.
I found grandmas note that was
pinned on the darkroom door
she passed a way a few weeks ago.
And I was moved to tell this story.
Follow the light Grandma love.
look for a big man with a crooked smile
and big hands hes waiting for you.*
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 10:39 PM UTC
*A long long time ago way
before digital took over the planet.
My grandfather was an airman in WW2.
He never dropped a single bomb
or even fired a weapon in that war..
He was a bit of a pacifist
live and let live was his way.
Instead he aimed camera lenses
at the Germans snapping their country
on his belly lay on the planes belly.
At the american airbase
in the UK he printed his photographs.
enough to cover an airfield.
He met an English lady in the darkroom.
They printed their photographs together
mixing fixer and developer.
working alongside each other
in the dark.
She got used to his crooked smile and big hands
He got used to her being there.
When the war ended he returned to the states
and opened a camera and photography shop.
He built a darkroom by hand
when it was finished he went back to England
on a cargo ship.
And found the lady from in the darkroom.
he asked her to marry him
and she accepted.
when they returned to New York
he showed her the darkroom he built for them.
On the door was a note in his handwriting
held by a thumbtack
It said I fell in love with you
in the dark.
But I want you to follow the light
with me for the rest of our lives.
A year later my dad was born
with a crooked smile and big hands.
And also his love of photography.
He had the eye for
color and shadow and light.
After I was born I did not follow the
love of photography.
But would get into trouble at school
for writing poems in the margins
of my work books.
I cleared out grandmas house the other day.
I found grandmas note that was
pinned on the darkroom door
she kept it in her souvenir box..
she had passed a way a few weeks ago.
And I was moved to tell this story.
So follow the light Grandma love.
look for a big man with a crooked smile
and big hands hes waiting for you.*
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 3:57 PM UTC
wreckers arrive, trucks & sledgehammers & ball
on chain, tumbling brick walls
glass cacophony
crystals of sand.
demolition early, everyday ruins, debris
piles hills, constant removal.
wheels shifting loads
burial journey.
gulls fossick mountains discarded, peck at
rocks & remnants. banister
shattered, chunks of steps, rungless ladder.
a park ascends
sarcophagus past. developer opportunity
real estate soars, minion mcmansions.
corner view of water & trees, haven of
light & ore
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 8:16 AM UTC
Your mosaic soul shows cracks, shattered glass,
jagged on the edges
and red where your pricked your fingers trying to pick them up.
I see pieces putting together something greater.
your water color freckles,
splattered over pale skin.
I'd compare them to the constellations, but those are just shapes
and the path im tracing with my fingers tells me much more.
there's no dawn in your golden brown eyes,
the sun I see shinning through stained glass is too bright to be just barely rising.
you are reckless laughter caught in a shutter
a frame by frame moment of the last trickles of childhood
blackness blurring the edges around you
from being left too long in the developer.
your lips feel like oil pants,
sliding over mine like a blank canvas,
I can still see the masterpiece you made me into.
I can still feel the whips of graphite tears pouring down your cheeks as you let all of the art you hold inside.
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 9:57 PM UTC
*The man with a crooked smile and big hands
A long long time ago way
before digital took over the planet.
My grandfather was an airman in WW2.
He never dropped a single bomb
or even fired a weapon in that war..
He was a bit of a pacifist
live and let live was his way.
Instead he aimed camera lenses
at the Germans snapping their country
on his belly lay on the planes belly.
At the american airbase
in the UK he printed his photographs.
enough to cover an airfield.
He met an English lady in the darkroom.
They printed their photographs together
mixing fixer and developer.
working alongside each other
in the dark.
She got used to his crooked smile and big hands
He got used to her being there.
When the war ended he returned to the states
and opened a camera and photography shop.
He built a darkroom by hand
when it was finished he went back to England
on a cargo ship.
And found the lady from in the darkroom.
he asked her to marry him
and she accepted.
when they returned to New York
he showed her the darkroom he built for them.
On the door was a note in his handwriting
held by a thumbtack
It said I fell in love with you
in the dark.
But I want you to follow the light
with me for the rest of our lives.
A year later my dad was born
with a crooked smile and big hands.
And also his love of photography.
He had the eye for
color and shadow and light.
After I was born I did not follow the
love of photography.
But would get into trouble at school
for writing poems in the margins
of my work books.
I cleared out grandmas house the other day.
I found grandmas note that was
pinned on the darkroom door
she kept it in her souvenir box..
she had passed a way a few weeks ago.
And I was moved to tell this story.
So follow the light Grandma love.
look for a big man with a crooked smile
and big hands hes waiting for you.
I miss you Darling
love
Jude*
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 9:43 PM UTC
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Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 10:47 PM UTC
Floor Shipping Shipping; adjective /
ARCHEEOLOGY : Last name adjective.
The first stone floor was placed about 2.5 million years ago
when the first stone tools were fashioned and used
by the Supreme Court, good for every paleolithic person.
Paleolithic. Good for every person. Paleolithic;
His name is lower paleolithic, his name is lower
paleolithic. A good name. Paleolithic Arena.
good name. Paleolithic Arena. The name of the upper
Paleolithic for the upper Paleolithic based on
from the age of 19 years of prehistoric Stone;
Old Stone Greek exchange rates + + -Ic:
the same flight with the same fear of fire,
except for the movement of the basket legs.
The devil gave Sadistic childcare early
in the morning; the punishment provided by law
and used from start to finish, use of the sign
of salvation, etc. Legs; feet and legs, soles of steps
was only a spin, as | loving Arias rise
in the morning's morning of morning of the morning
and the dead with their mouths speak
and eat, and is as it were, | the wedding dress;
It is best to get to the mind especially
when it comes due to satellites, | and in yellow, |
Ralph Lauren sings songs about eternal life.|
Floor; Shipping, Shipping; adjectively ARCHEOLOGY: Last name adjective. The floor of the first stone was placed
about 2.5 million years ago when the first stone tools
were fashioned used by the High Council. Good for every person.
Paleolithic. good for every person. Paleolithic. his name is lower
paleolithic. his name is lower paleolithic. A good name to announce in the Paleolithic Arena. Good name. Paleolithic Arenas.
The name of the upper Palaeolithic for the upper Palaeolithic
is based on; From the age of 19 years of prehistoric
Stone Old Stone Greek exchange rates + + -Ic: the same flight
with the same fear of fire, except for the movement of the basket legs.
| | | ||_The devil gave So childcare early in the morning._|| |||
The punishment given by law
and used from beginning to end,
the sign of salvation, etc., Legs,
feet and legs, the soles of her feet
were only spiders and the love
of Asia rising early in the morning,
in the morning the morning and
the dead in their mouths speak |
and eat and is, as it were the wedding
dress it is best to get the ghost,
especially when it comes through
satellites and sings yellow Ralph
Lauren songs about eternal life.
Knowledge of quality of life, the hard steps of the evening musician; Note that the first poetry in the world is that of the child that is a teenager who lied to her in the morning, morning, early morning, swimming and bones, and the father, with the eyes a lover of God is crazy. "Do not **** each other in time and money, some on foot." Crazy, crazy, crazy Asian, um, the ants that emit the color of reality are doomed, and if, and for those who are bad, and the king of ***** leaking a few feet of ... save my God's gratitude For example, God knows a simple one and for cutting, heating and healing bones. What is your time, it is still a shame for people living in the neighborhood. Beginning, I thought this morning in Asia Asia had a number of areas that especially Sikhs characterize with many words. Ralph Lauren, yellow socks, color in the family, which, as a man, offers the developer G Fat or thighs of the rich, fighting fatty liver for trice the price of of TMZ: Levi's green team of archery riders in his first match against Zion in Asia, and parts of the slide closure and socks are dead and believe in vibration. Are you crazy? Did the boy have a boy and should he have won? In debt to MLK - are the eyes of God, and to meditate on drinking alcohol and women. I know you love to swim in your clothes, feet and legs that are close to yours are FUTURISM.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 8:32 PM UTC
Bit by bit the debris of my being will dilapidate
My arms of cement will be tied and pulled to pieces by ropes
My windows shall be crashed and shattered by the indestructible cranes
The walls that contained the stories I kept will be torn down ceaselessly
The pillars that once made me stand tall will crumble to pieces and dust
My tower will fall apart amongst all the people and placed I've come to love
The ground beneath me will give in as I sink into the hollow Earth to disappear.
And as this may appear as a catastrophe, it most certainly is not.
In fact, it is satisfaction -
Satisfaction for the people
Who ordered for the nuisance I was
To be taken down and demolished for their own reasons.
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 9:45 AM UTC
1, young friends, this is not enough. Of course, if the body's soap accuracy
is the whey's stain on Jones, it's another form of salt in the acid. And what color does God's wisdom know? "This developer wants to marry a poor girl, but if you get married with beautiful young adolescent microbes, electrons, acids, cocktails, corn, amino acids & amino acids, big fish does not have the true religion. Home improvement, etc., shows that wisdom is not poverty,
1 my friend is going to go. Amino acids and amino acids are packed with the next grandmother of corn and grain, the tablet - the entire system."Soldiers and more polluted with acidic amino acids; amino acids, amino acids and color, more people are in fish, fish are spread out, more likely to be true religion. "It is a pity because it was weak if the young man sees young amino acids, amino acids in amino acids and amino acids, if small fish are too small for true service, BART or board, 1 patient if the child is married to his poor friend For the sake of his life, the true religion lives because it is all good, because it is not a fish from the war, and amino acids, however, are the most beautiful places. The acidity of amino acids and amino acids, the restoration of God's worship all the days not just on earth, color wedded 1 young enough and loyal friend. Jones and the Egyptian and everything connected with the oxygen supply to the body that will create a great deal of e-mail if the salt of amino acids and what color God's wisdom is. "This developer wants to marry a poor girl, but if you get your teenager married to a beautiful younger micro-climber, electronic acids, acids, cocktails, corn, amino acids, and amino acids
are not so good, so true religion. Better home in "Benin"
and so on showed wisdom," and the poor does not exist.
"1, my friend is going to go with the next grandmother
of the corn and garnet packed with amino acids and amino
acids, the tablet and, therefore, the entire system and wisdom."
soldiers and more infected crab amino acids, acidic amino
acids, amino acids and color, more popular fish, fish spread,
the more likely it is a true religion. "The girl wanted to get married,
poor and weak ... If the baby is enough to look for a fresh potion
of amino acids, amino acids turn into amino acids, amino acids,
if small fish are very true to the religion, BART or board members - 1 patient, but if the child is married, it is a true voice of religion
with a poor friend. They cannot live in disco's idiom with Ringer Acids,
gaseous Hasidim fish acids, amino acids and the ground of marriage,
but not just behind the wisdom of the poor.
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 2:10 AM UTC
I am not some peaceable pot-smoking hippy,
Or a ******** punk inclined to rage away.
Similarly not a broker, with no share of a real trade
Or a developer of putrid estates
Different from some disaffected political nutcase
Radical revolutionary, only in the way
That I still have hopes for change
Nov 1, 2023
Nov 1, 2023 at 7:15 PM UTC
Tiffany Trump has been viewed as the least known of Donald Trump’s children. The 23-year-old, who was raised separately from her siblings and made a late appearance on the presidential campaign trail, has been dubbed the “forgotten” Trump.
All the same, this has not made her exempt from the fury of her father’s detractors. This could be most clearly glimpsed during New York Fashion Week where there were reports the President’s second youngest child had been snubbed by fashion writers.
Former Wall Street Journal style columnist Christina Binkley shared a photo of Ms Trump sitting with two empty seats beside her, saying: "Nobody wants to sit next to Tiffany Trump at Philipp Plein, so they moved and the seats by her are empty”.
Fortunately for Ms Trump, who is the billionaire developer’s only daughter from his second marriage to Marla Maples, Whoopi Goldberg swooped in to save the day.
Despite the fact Goldberg has been an outspoken critic of Mr Trump, she suggested it was unfair for anger at his policies to be directed at Ms Trump given she was simply there to enjoy the catwalk.
"You know what Tiffany? I'm supposed to go to a couple more shows. ... I'm coming to sit with you," Goldberg said on The Viewwhich she hosts on ABC on Wednesday.
"Because nobody is talking politics at the [shows], you're looking at fashion! She doesn't want to talk about her dad. She's looking at the fashion!"
Goldberg, who previously said she would leave America if Mr Trump became President, argued the incident was "mean”, saying: "Girl, I will sit next to you because I've been there where people say, 'Ooh, we're not going to sit next to you. I'll find your a*se and sit next to you."
Fashion writer, Binkley, has now said Ms Trump was not actually snubbed at the show. She said the seats remained unoccupied for two minutes or less and the first daughter seemed unaware of what was going on.
Nevertheless, Nikki Ogunnaike, senior fashion editor at Elle, said the actual show started late due to frenzied last minute seating change, with editors at the show “fleeing” so they would not have to sit around Ms Trump. The tweets made headlines, with fashion designer, Plein, even weighing in to defend her by saying she is not a “politician” and merely a “teenager”.
Ms Trump, who thanked Goldberg for her show of support on Twitter, was raised separately from the other Trump siblings. She moved to California at the age of five and was brought up by her mother, Ms Maples, while her father and siblings were based in New York.
In a 2015 interview, Ms Trump said of her father: “I don’t know what it’s like to have a typical father figure. He’s not the dad who’s going to take me to the beach and go swimming, but he’s such a motivational person.”Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 11:35 PM UTC
If God is a man
he must be a really bad game developer
the games is always on beta test.
and when it ends it impresses no one
even his self...
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 1:50 PM UTC
Divine Child School – an eyesore
In Mehsana for many schools – sopor.
Vital in activities from a long yore
In the field of academics – never at war
Nor in politics or in legislation or in moor.
Earlier to handle any issue or four;
Challenging all as holistic developer
Hoping best with Sanket and other
In bringing up the best out of poor.
Leading path of values in senator
During the school and is savior.
Such legacy produced stars in galore
Coving the cosmos, can you ignore?
Honest, candid and authentic stentor
Out in Gujarat or India therefore
Oh! Respect it, admire it, esteem or
Leave it and touch it not anymore.
Aug 12, 2017
Aug 12, 2017 at 11:28 PM UTC