Painting beneath the Bower

Paint for me the colors

The miniscule of wild summer

You’re an artist, am your lover

Paint it dear beneath the bower.


I have brought in many hues

For your aesthetic eyes

But I leave the other shades

To let your heart decide –


Our crimson days are fire

Burning the skies with tangerine

Seep in close my pristine mind

Turning the whites, the grey in pink –


We pass the warm magenta,

And the illuminating green

Till we agree to take respite

To collect the golden reaping!


Show me now what you have painted

In the miniscule of our happy summer

You’re my artist, and we’re lovers.

Though this bower maybe gone!

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avatar About Sol Fuller Morco

My friends call me Sol.
I like my place being in a valley surrounded by trails of mountains that make my town enclosed by ranges of bluish and verdant sight.

Some years back, I taught Mathematics & Algebra in a Private Catholic School in my place.
When I was in college, though my lenient professor scribbled the x's and y's of arduous Algebra and tolerable Calculus, I recalled, there was a strange air flirting with me at the far left seat I occupied. That day I found, I only didn't love Algebra but literary as well. I was reluctant that time to try to write because I hated Grammar but strangely I found myself scribbling something with little touch of poetry. Still I bore grammar annoying but I adore poetry so much it brought the passion in me it romanticized me deeply so I had to live with this little blister in language.
Old verses inspired me to try my own craft.

One of the things that make me busy is writing poetry and journals. I miss being home! Finding this site is like finding a threshold of home!

"Algebra warms my mind & stomach but writing verses really warms my heart! "

It's like a sweet kiss with its soft lips upon my skin bearing a scent that lingers.

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