It was raining last night, but she didn’t bring an umbrella, instead letting the rain drench her. She yawned under the porch overhanging, feeling drops of acid rain touch her hand, but not caring if it burned.
it’s funny how on a nice sunny day when I take my car down to the car wash to clean it, I find about four or five brolly’s floating about as I’m throwing out all the junk… But then, when I enter the slip and slide that it King st on a rainy day…. none of these umbrella’s are anywhere to be found……
alwys liked the word. would i be wrong in making it out to be a very
liquid-sounding wourd. only made that discovery for the very first time
here and now and since i started writing this. strang that!! it was invented
for protection from something very liquid. something not at all pleasant
and yet i like the sound of the word..rainy day. miserable, keep your head down. keep going like me typing here and now. Umbrellas come in many colours to offset the gloom of a rainy overcast sky
this is my umbrella. there are many like it, but this one is mine.
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^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^”””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””
Staying safe from the rain isn’t easy. when its windy my umbrella blows away, hteres alot of wind where I live, so lose alot of umbrellas, I want to stay warm and snug and dry, but I can’t, not really under my umbrellla
big thing that keeps the rain off you breaks easily they are pink blue and sometimes clear i love them they look like peneses but you can get them in drinks
Under your umbrella we sit and watch the rain. The way it falls so confidently, although, soon to die, on the hard, unforgiving pavement. To become a puddle, or, a leaf’s drink. We’re wondering what it’s like to be one.
The umbrella fluttered and swayed in the warm breeze, she turned and smiled, not the kind of smile that reaches the eyes but the kind that is polite and necessary in
Rain pouring down. In sheet rather than drops. Coming sideways and diagonally so that the umbrella is wet on all sides and the young man trying to hold on to it in the wind, the young man still clinging to the belief that the umbrella will keep him dry as it should is soaked.
I don’t know if I care anymore. I think the rain will fall on me no matter what I try to use as protection. We can’t chose. There is no choice. There is just accidents. And they are always so empty.
It is necessary item to have in your pocession, it is call an umbrella. It’s main object is to cause protection from the rain. however it is one item that you will never remember if you happen to place it beside you if you are at the counter getting your groceries check, or if you have boarded the bus and on getting to your destination depart without it.
cover smell of rain titter patter splashing mudpuddles are all adjectives that come to mind. Closing the umbrellas as entering car of establishment isn’t something I look forward to, always seems awkward and what to do with the wet?
She watched as water dripped off the umbrellas that passed beneath her window. Those umbrellas had become a necessity in her home-town. It was always raining, never stopping, only easing, giving the locals hope that perhaps the five year rain was at an end before crushing it by pouring minutes later.
thing used to repair yourself from rain, sometimes from the sun, it’s a stick with some metal structure and a piece of cloth that covers it and doesn’t let the rain soak through.
The sun was shooting across the sky, yet the man held his umbrella tightly in his hand, flat by his side. It didn’t hurt to take precautions. He’d been caught out too many times before. Like last Saturday, when he’d only nipped out for a pint of milk and a paper. Downpour, it was. He got quite wet, and couldn’t get warm for the rest of the day. No way, was Norman going to let that happen again.
“Since when?” she asked, with a lump in her throat. She stared straight into his eyes trying to find what she had missed all this time. He looked past her, tired of constantly having to remind her that he too existed.
“Since I first saw you, that day in the rain. I saw you lost under your umbrella, but with the biggest grin… and I knew you were something different.”
She stared hopelessly at his face with a sullen look of despair, and he could tell she had no idea what he was talking about. He was oblivious for far too long, and he hated himself for thinking she could ever realise, he hated himself for hoping.
“I’m a stranger to you an’t I?… I’ll just disappear like this world then.” And with that he walked away, from the person of his hope, from the girl under the umbrella.
somtimes poeple ask me why i kept his umbrella.
“its a keepsake” ill say as i lift it over my head.
becuase i dont have the corage to tell them the story of how i got it,
how all this time i wonder if you remember how you forgot it.
or how you never came back for it.
they’ll ask me whats its use it never rains here,
and ill say “its always raining somewhere”
sometimes inside.
and we dont need math because you cant devide
by life how many times you might need an unbrella.
the ask me why i still care.
and i’ll say if i didn’t he might still be here because i cared enough to let you go
but i still left you unprepared…
without an umbrella.
so i keep it on the shelf by the door
and it only leaves me wondering more,
about how you’ve been since then and how many friends have been unprotected because ive still got it on my shelf
and who can really decide wealth
because rain drops can be dollars and my umbrella will catch them
and worth can be a collar connected to a choke chain holding back what you find important
and sometimes i’ll sit and think of where you went
and how you never left
and why’s it never raining outside so i can use you accidental gift
when the raindrops will be sent
and i’ll think i need your protection. you never know what you could lose,
maybe it is a keepsake. but as long as i use it to remind me of you
it could never be of no use
um·brel·la [uhm-brel-uh]
noun
1.
a light, small, portable, usually circular cover for protection from rain or sun, consisting of a fabric held on a collapsible frame of thin ribs radiating from the top of a carrying stick or handle.
Under my umb – re – ella ella ella eh eh eh. Under my umb – re – ella ella ella eh eh eh eh eh eh. You can run into my arms, it’s okay, don’t be alarmed. Come into meeeee (there’s no distance in between our love) So go on let the rain pour I’ll be all you need and mooooooooorrrrreeee.
umbrella’s for fella’s
Under my Um-berella
Under my bum – beretta
you know I keep the heat tucked
under the seat
and if im in the streets its under the wife beat
Much stress is less sleep
hide my tired eyes under my umbrella while the rain beats down on these cold city streets.
this thing is very essential specially nowadays here in my country, Philippines. Sometimes, its so sunny but now Its always raining! I have my own umbrella. its blue. i like a pink one though or that transparent umbrella. My sister wrote a song and it says “Umbrella’s on when you’re feeling blue”
I dont know how she came up with that.
umbrellas do not actually do that well of a job blocking away the rain. I always get wet regardless. Some people like to block out the sun with umbrellas so that their skin stays white . silly umbrellas
She floats down from the dismal sky, down, down, into the dreary neighborhood. A knock on the door lets you know she is there. The house is silent; the children, petrified with awe. She comes with a purpose, and will not leave until her task is complete. The one you do not want, but desperately need, will become the one you desire, but may no longer have.
We say we love the rain but then we hide from it. We say we love people but we run from them. We say we love the mountains but we never take time to climb them. We say we love ourselves but we ruin them.
A thin piece of fabric covering those who need it most. A barrier. An escape. A window onto the wide open, wet world. It is a scene those who dream dreams dream of.
I was sitting next to her in the rain. We held each other as we sat under the umbrella that she had managed to secure from her house. We ran away because we were tired. Tired of all the lies, all the anger, all the hate. It’s just something we have to get away from. And maybe, beneath this umbrella, we can keep all those things away. Because all I need is her, and all she needs… is me.
i am sitting in an upside down umbrella
scooping out the rain with the scrunched up bowl of my hands
i float along from puddle to puddle
these little lakes barely contain
all of your thirst i want to quench
if i can at all
i don’t know your ends
i bob to the next body of water
and feel your thigh as i swim through
this lazy river of remembering fights
recalling every holy instance
it’s just that i thought you sung me a love song back there
and that you meant it
The idea of umbrellas always excited her, like seeing a brand new, shiny pair of wellies, they gave her a little excited jolt. she wae do intrigued by the fact that there was something portable and compact that could protect her from the rain. Forgetting the whole romantic aspect of them.
It was raining last night, but she didn’t bring an umbrella, instead letting the rain drench her. She yawned under the porch overhanging, feeling drops of acid rain touch her hand, but not caring if it burned.
it’s funny how on a nice sunny day when I take my car down to the car wash to clean it, I find about four or five brolly’s floating about as I’m throwing out all the junk… But then, when I enter the slip and slide that it King st on a rainy day…. none of these umbrella’s are anywhere to be found……
alwys liked the word. would i be wrong in making it out to be a very
liquid-sounding wourd. only made that discovery for the very first time
here and now and since i started writing this. strang that!! it was invented
for protection from something very liquid. something not at all pleasant
and yet i like the sound of the word..rainy day. miserable, keep your head down. keep going like me typing here and now. Umbrellas come in many colours to offset the gloom of a rainy overcast sky
this is my umbrella. there are many like it, but this one is mine.
*********************************************************************************************************************=========================================================================
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^”””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””
Staying safe from the rain isn’t easy. when its windy my umbrella blows away, hteres alot of wind where I live, so lose alot of umbrellas, I want to stay warm and snug and dry, but I can’t, not really under my umbrellla
big thing that keeps the rain off you breaks easily they are pink blue and sometimes clear i love them they look like peneses but you can get them in drinks
sea bless fishermen by giving abundant fish
Under your umbrella we sit and watch the rain. The way it falls so confidently, although, soon to die, on the hard, unforgiving pavement. To become a puddle, or, a leaf’s drink. We’re wondering what it’s like to be one.
The umbrella fluttered and swayed in the warm breeze, she turned and smiled, not the kind of smile that reaches the eyes but the kind that is polite and necessary in
Rain pouring down. In sheet rather than drops. Coming sideways and diagonally so that the umbrella is wet on all sides and the young man trying to hold on to it in the wind, the young man still clinging to the belief that the umbrella will keep him dry as it should is soaked.
I don’t know if I care anymore. I think the rain will fall on me no matter what I try to use as protection. We can’t chose. There is no choice. There is just accidents. And they are always so empty.
It is necessary item to have in your pocession, it is call an umbrella. It’s main object is to cause protection from the rain. however it is one item that you will never remember if you happen to place it beside you if you are at the counter getting your groceries check, or if you have boarded the bus and on getting to your destination depart without it.
cover smell of rain titter patter splashing mudpuddles are all adjectives that come to mind. Closing the umbrellas as entering car of establishment isn’t something I look forward to, always seems awkward and what to do with the wet?
She watched as water dripped off the umbrellas that passed beneath her window. Those umbrellas had become a necessity in her home-town. It was always raining, never stopping, only easing, giving the locals hope that perhaps the five year rain was at an end before crushing it by pouring minutes later.
ella ella ella
wet windy
inside out
broken spokes
struggle
damp
soggy
drippy
slippy
thing used to repair yourself from rain, sometimes from the sun, it’s a stick with some metal structure and a piece of cloth that covers it and doesn’t let the rain soak through.
The sun was shooting across the sky, yet the man held his umbrella tightly in his hand, flat by his side. It didn’t hurt to take precautions. He’d been caught out too many times before. Like last Saturday, when he’d only nipped out for a pint of milk and a paper. Downpour, it was. He got quite wet, and couldn’t get warm for the rest of the day. No way, was Norman going to let that happen again.
You really can stand under my umbrella, if you like. I don’t mind at all.
“Since when?” she asked, with a lump in her throat. She stared straight into his eyes trying to find what she had missed all this time. He looked past her, tired of constantly having to remind her that he too existed.
“Since I first saw you, that day in the rain. I saw you lost under your umbrella, but with the biggest grin… and I knew you were something different.”
She stared hopelessly at his face with a sullen look of despair, and he could tell she had no idea what he was talking about. He was oblivious for far too long, and he hated himself for thinking she could ever realise, he hated himself for hoping.
“I’m a stranger to you an’t I?… I’ll just disappear like this world then.” And with that he walked away, from the person of his hope, from the girl under the umbrella.
somtimes poeple ask me why i kept his umbrella.
“its a keepsake” ill say as i lift it over my head.
becuase i dont have the corage to tell them the story of how i got it,
how all this time i wonder if you remember how you forgot it.
or how you never came back for it.
they’ll ask me whats its use it never rains here,
and ill say “its always raining somewhere”
sometimes inside.
and we dont need math because you cant devide
by life how many times you might need an unbrella.
the ask me why i still care.
and i’ll say if i didn’t he might still be here because i cared enough to let you go
but i still left you unprepared…
without an umbrella.
so i keep it on the shelf by the door
and it only leaves me wondering more,
about how you’ve been since then and how many friends have been unprotected because ive still got it on my shelf
and who can really decide wealth
because rain drops can be dollars and my umbrella will catch them
and worth can be a collar connected to a choke chain holding back what you find important
and sometimes i’ll sit and think of where you went
and how you never left
and why’s it never raining outside so i can use you accidental gift
when the raindrops will be sent
and i’ll think i need your protection. you never know what you could lose,
maybe it is a keepsake. but as long as i use it to remind me of you
it could never be of no use
You can stand under my umbrella-ella-ella-ella. Sorry, i couldn’t help myself. That song has ruined this word for me forever ;)
um·brel·la [uhm-brel-uh]
noun
1.
a light, small, portable, usually circular cover for protection from rain or sun, consisting of a fabric held on a collapsible frame of thin ribs radiating from the top of a carrying stick or handle.
Under my umb – re – ella ella ella eh eh eh. Under my umb – re – ella ella ella eh eh eh eh eh eh. You can run into my arms, it’s okay, don’t be alarmed. Come into meeeee (there’s no distance in between our love) So go on let the rain pour I’ll be all you need and mooooooooorrrrreeee.
umbrella’s for fella’s
Under my Um-berella
Under my bum – beretta
you know I keep the heat tucked
under the seat
and if im in the streets its under the wife beat
Much stress is less sleep
hide my tired eyes under my umbrella while the rain beats down on these cold city streets.
Umbrella can help you to be dry but you may still get wet umbrella’s are helpful to but it might break when you play with it to much or like speze it
this thing is very essential specially nowadays here in my country, Philippines. Sometimes, its so sunny but now Its always raining! I have my own umbrella. its blue. i like a pink one though or that transparent umbrella. My sister wrote a song and it says “Umbrella’s on when you’re feeling blue”
I dont know how she came up with that.
Writing is a word that is writing about your stuff you basicley can write anything about it so it would be fun i like writing is a learning word
umbrellas do not actually do that well of a job blocking away the rain. I always get wet regardless. Some people like to block out the sun with umbrellas so that their skin stays white . silly umbrellas
it began to rain so i held up my hot pink unbrella to sheild me
She floats down from the dismal sky, down, down, into the dreary neighborhood. A knock on the door lets you know she is there. The house is silent; the children, petrified with awe. She comes with a purpose, and will not leave until her task is complete. The one you do not want, but desperately need, will become the one you desire, but may no longer have.
I love Umbrella. it gives comfort and brings Happiness. every moment with the girl your love is unforgettable. I love you.!!
Stylish
keeps you dry
reminds me of women from china lol
i think of rain
i think of the color yellow idk why tho?
We say we love the rain but then we hide from it. We say we love people but we run from them. We say we love the mountains but we never take time to climb them. We say we love ourselves but we ruin them.
Der Regenschirm dreht sich
im Wind
immer weiter
A thin piece of fabric covering those who need it most. A barrier. An escape. A window onto the wide open, wet world. It is a scene those who dream dreams dream of.
Protect me from the storm. You are my only shelter and thus give great protection. Could we pass this storm though? Yes.
I was sitting next to her in the rain. We held each other as we sat under the umbrella that she had managed to secure from her house. We ran away because we were tired. Tired of all the lies, all the anger, all the hate. It’s just something we have to get away from. And maybe, beneath this umbrella, we can keep all those things away. Because all I need is her, and all she needs… is me.
i am sitting in an upside down umbrella
scooping out the rain with the scrunched up bowl of my hands
i float along from puddle to puddle
these little lakes barely contain
all of your thirst i want to quench
if i can at all
i don’t know your ends
i bob to the next body of water
and feel your thigh as i swim through
this lazy river of remembering fights
recalling every holy instance
it’s just that i thought you sung me a love song back there
and that you meant it
The idea of umbrellas always excited her, like seeing a brand new, shiny pair of wellies, they gave her a little excited jolt. she wae do intrigued by the fact that there was something portable and compact that could protect her from the rain. Forgetting the whole romantic aspect of them.
compelled without reservation
fixed gaze towards the heavens
relentless
selecting raindrops to fall
into my mouth