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Instruments of Love

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Below is the poem entitled Instruments of Love which was written by poet Poetryof Providence. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Instruments of Love

I recite your name in              the whispers of the wind
for bonded to my heart          are you until the  end
I lifted the chalice                   drank deeply of its wine
I felt of its effects                    the fullness of divine

Like the chords of piano        and dulcimers delight
your melodies do waft            through every thought at night
a master plays the chords     a violin with strings
plays my heart like a harp     whose music on it rings

Your fingers play me like       the stroke of piano keys
every touch I enjoy                your heart it aims to please
you are a symphony              whose chords have touched my heart
a birth cries transmission       of transformation every part

Songs like an aria                  may yet I learn to sing
whose vocals resonate          the inmost of my being
You left no line untouched     no strand is mine alone
made sure you did I knew      would make you me your own
 
Somewhere I lost myself        I gave it all to you
things I don't understand       reasons appear askew
I inhale you my breathe         to deepest parts within
need you to embrace me      as close as your own skin

We retire together                 speak 'neath the baleful skies
of every trial in life                 and those who live in lies
greet me in the morning        curl around me at night
sing to me of love songs       of futures very bright
 
The wedding of my heart      tears away my mind
I want to    forever                 hold you for all of time
Are not your words a bath     that removes the worlds dirt
a balm of medicine                to heal the deepest hurt

Its surpassing sweetness      a palate of good taste
love so intoxicating                no drop will go to waste
the adversary's here             and tramples the flowers
but you oh my beloved          too freely roam my hours

My life is but a breath           an instrument of song
music tells the stories           of lives and right and wrong
The scent of yesterdays       the pathways of the past
forward now the future          into the everlast

Proverbs 16
24 Gracious words are a honeycomb,
sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.

COPYRIGHT © 2013 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC 

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