I own an umbrella A black umbrella With all the colors of the rainbow underneath I own an umbrella Which protects me from the rain and the bad days I own an umbrella Dark outside and colorful inside I own an umbrella That looks just like me I own an umbrella that reflects my soul I own an umbrella And it makes me smile Because the irony is not lost on me That everytime I open the ****** object My heart blooms with hope That someone would notice It's not simply an umbrella It's not a random pick It's a black umbrella With all the colors of the rainbow underneath It's an umbrella Dark outside and colorful inside Which, when closed, lets appear a sneak peek Of how it truly is inside Sparks of colors Sparks of light Life Happiness But no one will know Unless they open it And look up Into the rainbow That protects me from the rain
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.
I have yet again attempted, and I don't think I went anywhere much with the ending, I'm so sorry to my readers and myself.
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
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.
She, The beauty, An umbrella, Over her head In the strong shower With no place to be gone All alone With no one for help A stranger Sees the girl With an umbrella over her head Through the misty shower He sees only A dark figure With a long and curly hair cascading With a color of a dreadful black night Wearing a gown Color of a cloudless sky Like an angel Who had fallen down From the heaven and got lost The stranger With an umbrella over his head Pace slowly towards The girl standing alone She stares and He smiles Though it is not a time of a smile She smiles Just few seconds, I can see Two figures Walking along the empty, cold and muddy path An umbrella over their heads Another left behind With the grabbed hands Maybe forever...
In New York City, it's just rain. I always have my umbrella to protect myself from getting wet. And then, I'll be off to LIU Brooklyn to meet new rainy day friends. When there's rain in the forecast, i always have my umbrella with me every single day.
Standing by myself before gates of open sky, There she stands in front of me looking right into my eyes. Open plains but I know the rain might just pour down, So I stay hidden away under my umbrella. Every answer is empty not caring what we do, Whatever you want I promise I'll be content. It's not a lie, no not all I just want to be your doll, But I am locked in my emotion umbrella can't even feel the rain. Never a chance of getting wet or misstep because I am protected from the pain.
Anything I want next time? How about you get me out of this thing? I don't need any promises any more, Meet me at the door. Because I can't walk in there with my emotion umbrella.
I want to protect you from the storms of life I want to be your umbrella in the torrential downpour we call tough times Though my fabrics may be porous and the water I shield you from may cause splash back I want to be there At times it may seem that no one loves you I’m **** sure that’s not true But I am not always sure that anyone else has a good enough grasp on the word to know That it by definition means you have to be there for the ones you claim to love Otherwise it doesn’t mean a thing Otherwise you’re just the dope standing in line at the store trying to get a return without a receipt But why would anyone want to return you? You may have come straight out of the package only to be a busted toy that fell into bad hands But as a porous old umbrella I can assure you In my life you are the best that I have got I’d rather shield you from the rain than any naïve, gleaming package Whom has no comprehension of how ****** life is beyond the store walls And you are far more beautiful anyways, with those missing bits and nicks in your plastic In fact I thought you were so beautiful I wrenched myself from my owner’s hands So I could protect you from the pain within the rain instead You were just a toy that had been trashed but I was willing to lose myself for you Willing to lose my time inside my cocoon of ignorance in someone else’s hands Just so that I could be blessed enough to call you my best friend I wanted to bear the weathers over our heads so that yours wouldn’t feel a drop And the only weather I can’t protect you from is the flood of your tears But when they surge upon us in times of trouble I prefer to invert myself and collect Allowing them to pool in the basin of my memories so that one day when you’re stronger than that We can take the time to look back and laugh At the broken toy that couldn’t see that her worst problems Could be fixed by a leaky old umbrella
Shelter from the storm...that’s what I would like right now, that’s what I need right now, dear therapist. Shelter from the storm.
I don’t doubt my determination to survive and yet here I am crying again. Crying and wishing for some GD shelter from the storm…the therapist does not question my commitment or desire to continue to work through this and someday come out on the other side. At least I don’t think he does.
I can’t find my safe place now…it was such a fragile structure to begin with, made of straw and easily blown away in a storm. But it did exist two years ago. It did. And for the first time in my life I felt understood, safe, ‘real’. My safe place was a place I could be angry and sad, and hopeless. A place I could ask for guidance in the midst of confusion; a place of encouragement and comfort. A place where I could find shelter from the storm.
But I can’t find it now! I feel like I am on the edge of tumbling into oblivion due to my own intransigence and inability to let the therapist back in.(or anybody) And I desperately need him tonight…shelter from the rain, stability in the wind, comfort in the thunder and lightning that is threatening me now.
And what is maddening to me is if the therapist walked up to me right now, with a stadium sized umbrella and said, “Nita, come in and I will give you shelter from the storm.” I still stand in the rain, wind and thunderstorm and decline his umbrella because of my fear he would just wrench it away before the storm was over.
So, here I sit, like a frightened child, on my own little island, surrounded by the storm, crying my eyes out over loss and betrayal…on an endless search for shelter from the storm.
Here I sit arguing with myself!
"Nita, you can't do it alone. He wants to help you - take the **** umbrella!" "No! I won't take it! I don't need his **** umbrella!" "Fine! You stupid baby! Suffer by yourself then ~ stubborn little *****!" "I said take the umbrella!"
When you leave leave me with an umbrella to walk under the grey clouds with to remember you by something so I know I wasn’t the only one who thought that we meant something more but to you I am only a friend asking to much of you only wishing you thought of me the same way as I do you so please don’t leave.
I know you don't do well in the cold or in the rain; You scramble around trying to save your hair and you jabber nonsensically in the cutest way, you shiver and you mumble and your hands and nose go cold.
But that's just a temporary, mundane blemish on the beautiful temple that is your body, one that a jacket can guard from, or a towel can wipe off.
But your heart, your fortress of a heart, is what I worry about. I know it hurts too, I know all too well that it does. I know that sometimes, you sit in a sea of blankets and warmth, but your heart still aches with a horrible chill. I know that although you may be sheltered, it sometimes feels like your heart is stranded in a downpour and your fortress cracks sometimes.
I don't know how to tell you or show you that I will stand in a hurricane to hold an umbrella over your heart, I will build you a home and a hearth to warm your bones, when all you feel is broken and numb I will hold you and kiss you until all of your beautiful puzzle pieces are put back together.
So don't mind the rain, sweetheart. I'll always be an umbrella for your heart.
Cloudy, the sky is filled with heavily condensed water, and birds flying away taking shelters, and swaying long grass dancing, whilst all I can hear is the loud sound of leaves blown by the wind,
No sun, no shines, clouds are marching, soon, very soon, waters gonna fall,
under the broken bus stop, with broken rooftop and rusting metal, I hold my small Carmine coloured umbrella with the lush green leaves paint the background the sky cried, and the tears dropped onto my umbrella, and millions more followed,
the tense smell of water mixing with the earth, the smell of rain, the smell of loneliness perfectly captured by my friend, nature, I stood there, looking upward heavily cloud is darkening and darkening,
it is crying it most heavy downpour, and all the nature too, silent, and all the nature too are in deep grieve, water is rising and drowning my feet, the ambience is not creepy but tranquillizing nature most expensive marijuana,
As cold as the ice, clear like crystal, so pure, so wild, the heavenly droplets,
I stood so long at the bus stop, waiting for the one bus that never arrived, my feet were numb and start to sore, move on, move on, so I let the rain washed away my uncertainty,
I took the first step, of my agonizing journey, through the deserted road, whilst the rampaging storm is abusing me, I decide to lose my umbrella to the wind, and learn how to dance in the rain,
After a storm comes a rainbow, the saying goes, I believe in those, cheap and cheezy echoes,
Rain or shine, I am fond of them all, nature is wild wild is good good for my unsettling soul,
so let's dance, dance in this cold unbearable blizzard of rain, of feelings, let the healing begin, aren't we all need healing?
Your the one son being rebellious little darlings here comes the sun drenching delicious but wait those cloudy days watch out the hunters run ducking our heads like babies wetting and water squirting beds getting too saucy ten O clock playpen the daring duck gourmet sauce Orange you glad all her rich creme spread across her penpals Do you trust those gals too country slick on Newsweek
Getting paid he is the longest laid egg all grilled we are not thrilled here is the "Chuckie Duckie" doll those ***** barbie collectors they are sitting duck Graphic Artist Not one quack doll plastic surgeon duck lips she thinks shes the hot stuff romantic "French" lips up the "Eiffel Tower" splash splash she is out of cash Those hot items presidential poll what a lost soul
Too much blue yes attention swan dancers Springtime Not the red attention yellow instead ****** please I need a journey not the "Attorney" such a ****** case When you need them they always duck When they have a new quack case they are ruining my image Duck tapesty Carol Kings youve got a friend
I'm feeling yellow homesick on your feather duck pillow The same yellow tie a different atmosphere Go- Spa She's flirting do you know where your going how is life treating you he's giggling way too wild on her goose chase Losing our grip down to her chicken bone hip Duck season not much time for love being hunted
The Spa la la ha have Merci' oh la la 'Disco Duck" The wild ones the only ones quack- quack the lonely ones At the waterfront trip to "Chinatown" they let them hang to dry but why Dad? They are better like the delicacy shark finn soup we need a Spa lucky green group Irish eyes are smiling stories of ducks
I am not buying do you see duck climb the "Eiffel Tower" yellow as a canary All talk-talk is cheap lets talk French Mom walks With her pretty duck handle umbrella we waddle The penquin what a beauty swan feather pen But she's the"Prima Donna" look out!
The slingshot Marilyn Monroe wiggles out The "Spa- Ma" Don't Scramble me darlings Breakfast eggs cagefree * * My little chickadees organic brown on my gown Spa duckies traveled the whole Atlantic town The longest pond sleeping like "Rip Van Winkle" twinkle twinkle doublecrossed the street you get one dermerit Sesame street Big bird how many words in duck vocabulary quack- quack who get's the duck star
Mars from Men women go to the Spa like the bad omen and they don't leave tap tap chop chop I want it now!! Its now or never why does she always get ugly duckling book delivered Lazy goose she is the spoiled rotten egg how do we love those I apples Carrots are for the eyes Mom always gets bird eyes
My little chickadees the Alaskan cute puppies Big salute to the cutest duck feet "God Bless America" Visa American Express Daffy Duck in Disney mess the real picture "Mona Lisa" getting the duck Prime chop minister "Parliament Spa" prices so sinister "Eat Duck and Pray" the southern biscuits more recruits
My cute rookies those duckier cookies another Spa day So prim and proper teatime with "Queen deck" Alice in rabbit hole-Santa candycane poles cute chick is homesick you better sent her money quick The ducky bib the Chinese duck soup won ton The feather fan she loves her Sushi roll Hollywood Style California all duck drama The best treatment duck made carpet
On the "Disney Hollywood" deck "Epcot" On the futon what diction for a duck "My Fair lady" Got the whole fortunes bed The duck on the hill what a fool but the monk Is the whole spiritual existence The peacock's longest wait for lobster tails centerpieces red bird Robin fly Robin Fly
Disco ball fancy tails she ended up up up to the sky Her duck sunglasses a dozen ***** spin's the disco The Duck Pop singer wants him back High price or a short mack duck shooter attack Food for thought homesick all saucy duck tie waiter Cinderella rags to ducklings I went to "Woodstock" Imagine me the teenager chick the duck split
Fill wing concert sky made a hit The blues love is strange chick-lets are yellow Like clock work what a duck work out orange Duck handle umbrella Duckies I pledge to you College Preppies The chick feeder Ain't nothing but a hound dog Elvis heart breaker bird-brain feeder
Moms duck sugar cookies ******* Jack one prize quack quack Huckleberry Finn paper boat old billy goat In the drowned mans eye holy ducks he delivered I will blow you down duck horn the day you were born Having a third eye one duck Wendy 4 for a 4
Notre Dame church tragic but saved The Easter yellow chicks To Rome lend me your feathers no secret ears Sticky Fingers she lost her writing finger in the pond OH! look whats beyond so kind With her duckling apron dress he ducked The chatty cat "City Dr Seuss"
Wearing duck boots those duck lips played her like the fancy feast The teachers pet the ducklings cute darlings Spa cream she quite the flabber belly dancer The ballet swan achiever "Spa One Day tripper" The ugly duckling changed to beauty witch Holy-land or duck pond Mickey's ears Disneyland
Stand up daffy duck comedian Las Vegas Godiva Peking duck soup flapping swishing mess The Big Ben red whose been sleeping in my duck wing bed The car stops he hiccups cute bebops The guardian angel quack quack any luck Yummy raspberry pie someone delivered
Christmas Scrooge all tears New York lights camera I love my Serendipity chandeliers Those duck tear drops last stop Or you die__your still quacking Just in time said I Fly Robin Fly
Saved my baby chick lovely Cradled her to love her Dr Seuss read
Its about all speculation dreaming need of a nature cool environment ;our eyes up get your cafe favorite cup my baby chicks words will give flight and I hope you will feel just perfectly right with her duck lips Quack Quack
There's intense romance in walking in the rain under an umbrella.
It's akin to being with your girlfriend in the rain.
My umbrella like my girlfriend is old
she has enough leaking holes to lick my hair and face rolling like a rivulet reaching up to the groin where it creates a puddle of desire when I grab her harder and push thru the fluid thirsting and thrusting like I do with my girlfriend.
But you know the best part comes when my umbrella asks me to throw her away and reach the ****** as the sky cracks to pour a blinding rain.
Phase 1: The rain was eating the world The acid drops falling into attack At first they had been glistening Sparkling clear, like giant glass tears So beautiful a child held out his tongue But then they had began frightening the flowers, puckering holes in their pretty petals They made the house's crisp coats of paint stream in desperate colorful tears The roads filled, like acid rivers Rivers that no sail could survive The world dissolving, right before my very eyes Like a canvas being erased from inside its frame
I was running with my umbrella Clear plastic hexagon on a handle Hovering above my head Like an insect’s stretched out wings Sheltering me from the storm My magic umbrella My rain boots pacing faster, acid avoiding my eyes Getting to the dandelion garden A garden where not just any kind of poppies grew But silver poppies
The garden was dripping in cobwebs Shining like stretched maps of ice Medinal mushrooms formed in clusters ***** and distinct My head was spinning from the odor The garden’s sleeping spell overcoming me
A lightening bolt cracked outside Splitting the sky into two Toxic clouds steaming into the atmosphere
Phase Two: Toxic air The animals breathing in its chemistry Their eyes growing wild The barks leaping from their vocal chords In short snaps at first Then as the insanity ensues, stretched energy Howling, growling, wild Ravenous The humans locking their doors
My heart still beating Like a drum Searching for a silver poppy The garden encased like a giant glass box Holding the plant that ends the storm Me like a fish in a bowl, separated from the rest of the world Trying to find the poppy To save it
My eyes searching The silver poppy lying somewhere in this glass greenhouse Each time, to be found in a different place Like lightening, never striking in the same place twice A silver poppy never grows in the same place twice Once plucked, reappears somewhere else Wherever you would least suspect Somewhere in this garden
My eyes dry and stinging, My hair tangled and tired My clothes with poked holes from where tiny droplets of acid rain hit Raggedy The poisonous plants begging me to touch them Like Eve and the apple The dirt has no poppies No silver poppy to be found But then
The water pool Cool and placid Like a mill pond I dive in Silver catching my eye Like glass The poppy looking like almost any poppy But silver
Lying like a secret at the bottom of the pond My fingers grasping at the poppy's thin throat I had swam in like a mermaid I emerge like an animal On a mission Cupping the silver poppy to my chest Like a baby dove
I escape the greenhouse doors I pluck the poppy's petals, scattering them into the rain At that moment A hungry dog approaches me, quickly morphing into a wolf Mid-leap, its teeth about to sink into my neck The silver petals pressed flat into the concrete by the rain The acid burning my skin
Phase 3: And then Relief The rain tastes sweet like lilacs and water Me turning into circles as the dog presses me with wet sloppy kisses The rainbow shining, an upside-down smile The plants glistening and growing The birds chirping, their voices light like silhouettes The world in harmony Children running out of their houses The animals rolling in the grass, the woodlands
Me, standing, left holding the silver stem Tears rolling down my cheeks How many times would I have to do this? My mouth like a bow My hands like a lotus My whispers like a prayer How many times would I have to stop the chaos? More tears
Phase 3: The Maker's Forest* Then, giant hands scooping me up My body, the length of the pinky The giant hands without arms Stretched out to me from the sky
Carrying me Across forests and fields I peer over the thumb Passing over deserts and oceans A tiny breeze tugging at my hair Sleep overtaking me How many times will I have to stop the chaos? Dissolving into my dreams Like a tiny doll in my Maker's hands
I wake up in darkness Except for a crack of sunlight, smiling in I’m in a sphere enclosure My hands tear at the two walls of the split Breaking open the egg I was in The soft segments of the shell Lying in cracked pieces around me I am in a nest, with three other eggs A nest high up in a tree
I climb down the tree Branch by branch I am in the Maker’s forest The Maker’s healing forest
I have heard before we have a Maker But I never believed it How could I If we had a maker, why would our world keep falling apart Why would I keep having to retrieve the silver poppy to remedy it
I walk down the forest path, getting closer to the sky blue cottage The path is lined with evergreens, redwoods, trees tall and high Filled with hundreds of nests and eggs
Phase 5: The Maker's Paint Studio I open the white picket gate And a painter emerges Dressed in off-white overalls and an apron, carrying a brush with a tip of ruby pink paint No words yet Just sparkling blue eyes, shaggy grey hair, and leathery creased skin
I catch sight of myself in the reflection of a puddle and gasp My lips are ruby pink like a bow My skin is healed and smooth Like porcelain My hair is soft and silky Falling in waves down my summer dress The whole forest is bright and shining awake and alive
How did I come to look like this How did I come to heal so fast? Why is this forest so beautiful?
Come with me The painter says I step inside, the room filled with pallets of paint and aisles The walls standing like giant canvases Covered in illustrations and images The golden desert I passed over on one wall
The sparkling ocean whose breeze tugged my hair on the next And on the Maker's canvas, me I’m standing there, the silver stem in my hand But the world around me, it's not falling apart nor dissolving
Its beautiful I look at the painter The chaos I say I can’t take it anymore
I tell him This world you paint It pains me Paint something prettier Don’t ever paint a storm again Why can’t you always paint the pretty picture on the canvas? That’s the world I want to live in
But I do, the painter replies His eyes kind
But I am not the only painter He says looking at me
My illustrations, he smiles The people I paint, They can paint too And the world you see, Sometimes it’s the world you paint
You mean, the storm? I painted it? He smiles It wouldn’t be very fair if I was the only one allowed to paint now would it? "How do I stop? How do I stop painting storms? I don’t ever want to leave this pretty forest"
He faces a white canvas, starts painting a tiny girl Sometimes what we see, he says Is more of a reflection of what could be, of our minds eye, than what is really there Storms do happen of course
But the storm you repeatedly see Is the storm of your mind Let me ask you something Are you afraid?
Yes, I reply And what are you afraid of? Well everything, I reply. There is so much to be afraid of
Then that is what you are seeing, he says Free yourself Of all nonexistent time, of what could be and what was And just be exactly where you are And you will see things as they really are Your paintings will add the beautiful details to my paintings
With that the, little girl, the one with the short brown hair and pink dress steps off the canvas She smiles at us And then she opens the cottage door, her ruby lips and blue eyes taking in the forest around her, walking further into it
Phase 6: The Storm of your Eye And then I’m back, with my hexagonal umbrella Running to the garden Acid rain splashing around me Instead though, I stop The world doesn’t need the poppy, I hear my Maker say The poppy isn’t even real I stop and close my eyes Forget my doubts And everything that could go wrong I forget everything The blood running through my veins, the splashing acid, the storming clouds My minds goes blank What the world needs Is me
When I open my eyes The world is quiet Then I hear the sweet chirping of birds singing Children playing
An old man walking his dog “Looks like it might rain” he says, pointing to a far away cloud I close my umbrella I won’t be needing it*
A sudden evening rain over the rice fields, memories wake up from deep sleep of long years, take a walk once again along the narrow ridge parting green fields on a rain soaked evening of yore. She, a jaunty young woman had changed the quiet world of a village boy with big curious eyes, just in few minutes.
his innocence, vanished a yearning for something unknown until then, started its torment love, dabbed its fragrance on his being with its slight of hand, a spell cast over him made his head spin like he drank heady wine, how strange!
Under her spread umbrella he came by chance, only once in his life walked with her till the door on his way to the temple of Krishna for the evening worship, walking along the zig zag, slippery path had he slipped a bath in slush was assured.
When the rains came unannounced, rushing ,with her anklets clanging frogs spiritedly croaking, all this mingling with the orchestra of myriad insects, she came as if from nowhere, from a wild growth of banana plants on one side, down to his path. She smiled at him as if she knew him well a lush young woman, who took him by his hand, brought him closer to the protective wrap of her sari, that smelled lemons and oranges, that fragrance remains sweet in memory, was it jasmine scent from her long black tresses, that made him feel that the world has suddenly become, a place, full of luminance, has he quickly grown up to her age?
She didn't ask him questions, called his pet name surprising him about that knowledge of her; that made him think that she was someone so close once, but forgot as he grew up.
Reaching in front of the temple, she gave just a wistful look, and vanished from his life for ever. Not even aware that she just gave, the best fragrant moments for a boy on the first step to adulthood, he stood looking her go on her way. When he look back and remember, this delusion, he realizes, stays with him: "I am under your umbrella ever since"