mine expired as well - the foul winds of midtown snapped its spindly aluminum neck as i scuttled back from columbus circle on my lunch break - but i brought it home to our building's trash chute, so that its spirit guide will know where to find it for its final journey to umbrellavalhalla.
Then for him prepared the people of the Geats
ReplyDeletea pyre on the earth not trifling
hung with helmets with battle-shields
with bright byrnies as he had requested
they laid then in the midst the famed umbrella
the lamenting heroes their belovèd umbrella
then began on the barrow the greatest bale-fire
the warriors to kindle wood-smoke arose
swarthy over the heat the roaring flame
woven with weeping the tumult of winds lay still
until it the bone-house had broken
hot at heart despairing in their hearts
they bemoaned their grief their umbrella's death
Oh yeah, Paul? Two can play at that game:
ReplyDeleteIn Central Park the gale winds blow
Between the taxis, row on row,
That take up space; and in the sky
The pigeons, bravely flapping, fly
Scarce heard amid the cold wind's blow.
We are the trashed. Short days ago
We lived, felt mist, saw shirts laid low,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie,
all tattered shields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, us bumbershoots,
now tattered shields.
^ ^ the win (both of you).
ReplyDeleteLet not ladymags mock their useful toil,
Their homely prints, and provenance obscure;
Nor Grandeur grace with a disdainful smile
The short and simple brollies of the Poor.
The boast of D&G, the Dior of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Awaits alike the goddamn scattered showers: -
The parapluies stream but to the grave.