Spring-Time Chrysalis Collection
By Graham Hartley
jealousy
I’m not jealous often.
I have found my place within the world,
And I am content.
However, this is my ode,
A tribute to envy.
My heart I must protect.
I’m jealous of the blankets that hold you,
Like a fresh coat of new spring frost.
I’m jealous of the legs that support you,
That trip and skip on travels abroad.
I’m jealous of the mind inside your skull,
Who make decisions without me.
When will it be my turn?
I don’t handle jealousy well.
buds
Like an apostrophe
They appear on the tree.
Little warning given,
As blessed as can be.
Intake the fresh spring air,
A new season fast and daring,
A world that recycles its beauty,
One for which we humans must be caring.
Reflecting our own natures,
Our labels can melt like glaciers.
No longer a simple “bud”
But a flower blooms: something greater.
Rise, Jungle of Colors
Ode to the backyard,
My own jungle of colors,
Where vibrant visions vary
Among the dirt-covered others.
Where dew and diamonds once rest,
They no longer smother,
Their pastel petals unfold for me,
I turn, “oh!” there’s another.
So rise ye herbal beanstalks,
Rise ye temporal blooms,
Rise for the water color dawn,
Rise, we are waiting for you.
Rise like the shining sun.
Rise like a pale dune.
Rise from hearth and ground
Rise, I’ll see you soon.
To Bask in First Light
The Dawn appears in the east.
slowly, it peaks to pique my morn’.
it’s rays gather on my skin,
to dance and shake then sink.
i curtsy to my fellow clouds,
before drifting on by,
oh the wishful whimsy to careen in the sky.
so here I sit and here I strive
desperate to not let the world pass me.
bye.
i doodle and i write
i play and i light,
a path wrought with joy,
my old self melted with the winter frost’s fright.
now alone, i watch.
my soul before chrysalis rots.
reborn to soar,
before changing once more.
The Dusk always sets in the west.
a tercet for pollinators
An ode to the bees,
Who orchestrate the buzzing of spring,
Pollin, from bud to bud they fling.
An ode to the butterflies,
Who waltz with the tailwind,
Gliding under cover, they wait unpinned.
An ode to the beetles,
Who defend with durable hide,
Strive for open petals, they must survive.
An ode to the moths,
Who crave luminosity,
The patterns that best represent spring’s curiosity.
About the Author
Hello friends, my name is Graham Hartley and my pronouns are he/him/his. I am a student at Depauw University and some of my personal hobbies include playing the Handpan and writing poetry. I love competing in poetry slams and I cannot wait to share some of my pieces with all of you, I hope you enjoy it! Peace and Love.
