Divine Mould

I am just a lump of clay for YOU,

I know!

Whatever form You make

I am just that.

Nothing else.

One moment a ravishing seductress.

The next, a devoted wife.

Any mould – of wisdom or of vice

Of beauty or blemish

I am all Yours to carve, I know!

But somewhere within,

Mysterious threads of thought sprout,

Spreading tentacles of mystic images in my brain

Churning deeply-embedded emotions,

Transforming the ordinary into the divine.

I feel I am being peeled away bit by bit,

Every piece a rotten overgrowth of pretensions.

Scratched of all scrap I am left nude, bare,

Free of a burden I had not known existed.

I now flow light amidst waves of time and space

Awaiting the final mould –

Of the Divine Image engraved for eternity.
http://www.indusladies.com/forums/poems-and-poets-place/104685-the-divine-mould.html

For Monday Poetry Train Revisited

Stilletoed Status

She stilettoed on the ramp

into the hearts of the captive audience

as they watched her body sway to the music,

every move of hers critically observed

as she let the designer’s garment fit, flow and flood

the stage walking smiling to none and all.

Walking the winding ways of the ramp

everyday, I strut, I sway, I swirl

to the music of life -

sometimes soft, sometimes loud,

I know I am watched

by eyes that only know to painfully stare,

that know no care,

I walk high amidst clouds of smoke

that fill my bottomless pit of arrogance,

my stilettos tapping on the hollow stage of life,

every sound of my shoes only soar me high

into the realms of a illusionary world

I despise yet prize.

I hear the sound of emptiness emanate

from the plethora of a hypocritical existence

yet I carry on, catering to the whims of the world

my self lost in the bareness of unholy desire,

my soul bruised by lifeless passions set afire.

Click here to visit VoicesNet.com to read the poem called "Stilletoed Status" by Shail Raghuvanshi, India