I asked the question but may never know
But let’s give it a go
I ask the question again, how does Mary Poppins angle her umbrella?
It seems precise
Maybe Magic is the advice
It seems the winds are always in Mary Poppins favor
But too some of use with ordinary conventional umbrella’s that’s hard to savor
Mary Poppins seems to just glide through the air and her umbrella stays in tact
Actually, could be more than fact
With these so called conventional umbrella’s, people would be lucky if our umbrella’s didn’t turn inside out and became stems of its former self
But Mary Poppins umbrella is not like everybody else
When a breeze comes along, the ordinary conventional umbrellas simply bend
What was an umbrella always comes to an end
They just can’t seem to take the wind
I guess Mary Poppins can
Magic controls the umbrella on when
But we really don’t know how Mary Poppins umbrella stays straight
However, it’s Mary Poppins story of fate
Yet that is something only Mary Poppins can appreciate
As for us ordinary people can associate
It’s definitely a magical thing
The Mary Poppins name having a bling
She’s like a Queen who masters her own sling.

It was a rainy night. He took out his umbrella, opened it, and it soon engulfed the both of us. "Hey, you're getting wet," he said. He pulled me closer to him, his arms like the umbrella protecting me, protecting us from the drizzle.

I snapped out of my daydream to find him weirdly staring at me, and asked him, "What, do I have something on my face?"

"No, it's just... why are you staring into space?"

Our footsteps made little splashes, puddles reflected a thousand images of us. These pictures from nature will not last for a lifetime but the rain was our witness, as if the skies were crying at a matrimonial ceremony.

I took a step away from him to let the memory of him soak in me. He stands there in the rain innocently, with umbrella in hand, waiting for me to respond. Breathing out, I told him: "Ask me what I think of you right now."

"Wait, what? Are we going to play a game?" That usual what-is-going-on look still stupidly plastered on his angelic face. "Well, what do you think of me right now, then?"

I didn't hesitate and the first word that automatically left my lips were 'umbrella'.

"Umbrella? Do I look that thin to you, really?" He said dryly as he gave me an uninspired look. He shook his head in disbelief and pouted. "And I thought you'd relate me at least to the rain."

"Umbrella: definition for a protecting force or influence," I told him as I stood in place. I side-glanced at him to find a spark lighted up in his eyes as his shoulders loosened. "You're my umbrella because I need you in rainy days and sunny ones. Literally because of your stature to block the sun or cover me when it rains," I laughed. "And it's not because you're thin like one, silly. But how you comfortingly stretch out your arms to me when it's a bad day for me. How you guard me from others' icy remarks. It feels like a need to have you around wherever I go."

He cleared his throat jokingly and added, "Might I say I also take you high like Mary Poppins' umbrella." He burst out laughing as I glared at him for his poorly done innuendo.

But right there and then as I rolled my eyes at him, he dropped the umbrella, grabbed me by my waist and kissed me as light as the raindrops kissing our skin. He broke off after a while and said, "Getting wet, are we?"

Before I could claw at him for his second pun, he released me as I chased him down, not caring if I would get a fever later. But sometimes I just wonder how did I come to like, fall in love, and love him-- basically feel every emotion with him. In all truth, he wasn't just my umbrella, but also my home whom I'll always return to at the end of all my days. Umbrella or home, he is my shelter.

This rain is cold and it just started to pour but I must brave it
I look in the back seat for some sort of protection

     I can't help but grin as I uncover a large dark blue umbrella.

I step out of the warmth of my car and start the trek across campus.

this umbrella is an old one
I remember this umbrella at the bus stop in elementary school.

                                                               ­     I stare at my feet as I walk
                                                            ­        left
                                                    ­                                                   right
                                                           ­          left
                                                                ­                                       right
                                                           ­                                        and suddenly I am back in elementary school
                                                                ­                                                                 ­    at the bus stop in the rain
                                                                ­         with an umbrella big enough to shelter me and all my friends

                                                     on days when it rained bad mom would let me use her big blue umbrella
                                                        ­                                                                 ­   it always made me think of her

                                                            ­                                         think of my mom at work safe from the rain
                                                            ­                                                    think of her coming home after school
                                                                ­                                    making her first drink and going to her room

                                                           ­     she did so much just for us to get by
                                                              ­      I always knew the little things
                                                          ­                  like giving me her umbrella
                                                        ­        were all she could manage

                                                         ­         I step in a particularly deep puddle

and now I am a college student again
thinking of my mom at home safe from the rain
while I scurry across campus in the middle of the night

back then she couldn't handle much more than an umbrella and a kiss on the head

when you're depressed everything is overwhelming you know?

Now I'm the depressed one, and nothing in the world sounds better then my mom giving me her umbrella and dropping a kiss on my head.....

I don't know what it is
but I have grown very fond
of umbrellas
all shapes and sizes and colors
I never owned an umbrella
until a week ago
it was raining all day
and my mom gave
an umbrella
nothing fancy
just a black umbrella
then the rain let up
and I almost used
the umbrella
but I was worried
I wouldn't be able to dry it out
getting an umbrella wet
is a funny thing to worry about
but that's how I think
and that's not going to change
so when the sun comes back out
to dry the streets
only then
will I use
my first umbrella
for the first time
and it won't get wet

She put on her make-up, her dress and her watch
She pulled up her socks and put up her hair
And in her hair, she placed the umbrella

The small green umbrella
had at first been a joke.
There in her cocktail
on their very first date.
He had taken it from the ice,
setting it above her left ear.

She walked out the door, down the driveway, to the car
She pulled out from the drive, and into the street
And in the rearview mirror, she caught the umbrella

She had worn it on each
of their dates after that.
Through all the long years.
Through all the happiness,
and sometimes the fights.
It always kept them connected.

She entered the building made of soft colored stone
She met with the nun, who helped her with the practice procession
Through her walks down the aisle, the sister noticed, but didnt ask, about the umbrella

She had worn it the night
that he had proposed,
just as she would
on the day they would wed;
and the next ten years after that.

She saw more cars pull up, more friends and family arrive
She met with them all, and spoke with them softly
They were all accustomed, of course, to the fifteen year old, faded, umbrella

Ten years after the wedding
she still had the keepsake.
She had even been wearing it
on the most tragic of days.
The day of the accident,
the one she survived.

So she walked down the aisle, and arrived center stage
She smiled at the calm face of the man that she loved
She then reached up to her hair, and inside his casket she placed

The Small Green Umbrella

The forgotten umbrella
Fretted

Did he get wet?
Cry because it was missing?
Would his mother have given him a beating?

Benches and desks
Are cozing

The board still retains
The day’s remnants

Night came,
The umbrella was in tears
Rain rain
Umbrella umbrella
Said the rain outside

Only  the umbrella heard
His voice was raining over the shower
“my darling umbrella”

Crying itself to sleep,
Headmaster’s room
Came in a dream

Question papers, canes
Maps, globe, skeleton,
Chalk power,
Fat lady teachers,
Farts and baloney

Startled itself awake
No, it is not light yet
Through the darkness
Nothing other than his embroidered name

Still you forgot me!

Other umbrellas came
And sat on either sides

Didn’t you get wet yesterday?
Didn’t you go home?
How can it be said that he forgot me?

There he is!
Umbrella closed its eyes

Let him come running
Give a hundred kisses

He didn’t come even after the bell rang

On opening the eyes,  saw
His new darling umbrella

Hasn’t put it down..

In a rained-out world
painted in shadow
smeared by waters
and bus stop-
undeterred,
her red umbrella
burns crimson through
desolate darkness
like random library
selfies of beauty
buried in paper skin,
shielded by her
red umbrella

In an overcast world
stencilled in sorrow
her umbrella-
so red, so shiny-
reaches out to me,
taking all my woes
and weary waters away
when I hear her say-
"Hey, write me a poem
about a red umbrella"

In a sunny world
etched in joyance
dabbed in frappé-
my four-wheel red umbrella
drives us from
country to café,
where perfectly good
grand pianos meet
symphonic chaos,
amicably amplified as we mingle
under our red umbrella
~
NM
09/20/16

I am carrying my umbrella
to a promise of our meet
I am carrying my umbrella
close to pounding heart beat  
I am carrying my umbrella
hope to steal a steamy kiss
I am carrying my umbrella
to cry upon so much amiss
I am carrying my umbrella
for that longed warm embrace
I am carrying my umbrella
to hide my tears,
standing alone in that place.