Skip to main content

SERPENT by Ruth Calder Murphy


As for all poets, poetry is for me a vessel - a way, a channel - by which I am able to reflect, consolidate, heal when needed and move forward...

 Of course, it can also be a way to express the simplest ideas - a way of holding everyday things up to the light and enjoying the way they sparkle.

Painting by Kimberly Crick
We are now in The Year of the Serpent, according to the Chinese Zodiac. It comes round once every twelve years. I wrote my poem, “Serpent” years ago now - in 1998 - before the last “Year of the Serpent”.

For me, this poem holds elements of all the reasons I write.

It’s a reflective poem, looking at my self and how I deal with life, how as human beings we all, to an extent, manifest elements of the serpent, in the way we get knocked back and damaged and need to crawl into our holes for a while before shedding that old skin and moving on to bask in the sunlight again.

It’s also a celebration of life and the fact that we are part of the circle of life, a constant dying and rising again - every new moment, reborn. In many mythologies, the serpent is a symbol of these things. The East, in Native-American Shamanism, is linked with Spirit and with the Eagle totem - with being able to rise above and see the bigger picture.

And of course, the poem is also a word-picture.

Happy Year of the Serpent to you all. May the old and dead fall away, leaving you bursting with new life and blessed with new opportunities.


Painting by Rene Waddell
Serpent

I shed my skin, snake that I am,
serpent coiled in the setting sun.
I turn around and the world has changed
and my body crawls from its shell again.

Asleep on the rock in the heat of the day,
I bask in the light ‘til the sun slides away.
I slip to the hollow under the stone
when the west claims the sun
 and the daylight is gone.

I look to the past, to the scales I have shed
in the light of the seasons, now lying dead
and I know as I look where the new days dawn,
with the skin that is lost my hope is reborn.


'The Snake Pose' photo-montage by Catherine Ghosh

Ruth Calder Murphy is a writer, artist, music teacher, wife and mother living in London, UK. Her life is wonderfully full of creativity and low-level chaos. She is the author of one published novel, “The Scream,” several books of poetry and one or two as-yet unpublished novels. She is passionate about celebrating the uniqueness of people, questioning the unquestionable and discovering new perspectives on old wonders. She is learning to ride the waves that come along—peaks and troughs—and is waking up to just how wonderful life really is. You can visit Ruth and view more of her art on her website here, or on her Facebook page. Her latest book is available on Amazon here, and here


~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~ 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

MY HEART SEEPS by Edith Lazenby

Courage is not only facing fear, but also looking past fear, to see what lies it tells and truths it saves...
Sometimes I sit at a computer in trepidation. The house trembles and I wonder what I will find. 
Truth is not a fact or a feeling. It may rest on love’s heart and walk with integrity. It may stand beyond humanity in ways we can only imagine. Truth can be solid as earth and fickle as wind. But a wind can know stillness and the earth can crack wide open.
Tonight I found a stillness in a crack and managed to balance there...


My Heart Seeps
by Edith Lazenby
I cannot hold on And I cannot let go. I walk a path I don’t know. I feel moonlight But cannot see Its orb midst The cloudy cold. My hands tremble. My eyes tear. My toes wriggle To grasp earth. I want to stand Tall in the light Yet fear shadows all. Inside I crumble Under the weight I cannot shoulder.

FOR THE SISTERS by Tammy T. Stone

These days, I’m finding it difficult – along with many, many others - not to feel disheartened...
I'm disheartened by the feeling that chaos has descended upon us, at the negativity and fear, the anger and reactivity, the violent spirit of animosity characterizing the times. It’s hard not to give in to the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness, even as we cling to the strong conviction that it is our positivity and our love that will prevail.
Every crevice of my heart goes out to the suffering (and we are all suffering when one of us suffers), and my heart aches for the untold numbers of women around the world who are immediately and devastatingly affected by recent decisions to cut funding to organizations vital to their health and wellbeing, a movement that horrifyingly undermines women’s sovereignty over their own bodies. Words do not do the feeling justice.
It feels to me that the earth itself is overturning, that our fragile grasp of what is right and true, of our incredibl…

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness…
Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather all of life into your inner c…