Butterflies build a chrysalis when they go through metamorphosis. AFter eating gorging themselves on leaves as caterpillars, they begin to spin a cocoon and wrap themselves in layers of spun fiber to create a chrysalis. Sleeping inside the cozy sack they have made for themselves, they change into butterflies. Grade 3 Science!!
something new and undiscovered, I implore you to become just that thing. A sweet unfolding, a deep and intrisic metamorph. If you could, you would, you’d become that which you’ve envied. She flies, and she emerges and she is radiant.
A chrysalis is a bud opened. Like a flower with its petals unfurling, like people who haven’t realized enough about themselves. It’s a state for organisms to emerge from. I don’t really know what else to say about it besides that.
And as it opened she revealed… a nothing-grey, bald and boring. She wasn’t lucky… about 1 in a thousand turned out shiny-pretty, all pink and orange. The rest; we get to fight the wars and spit on the boots for polish.
“Chrysalis?” he muttered to himself. “I know not that word. Does it have something to do with crystals?”.
Turning towards the bookcase, his eyes scanning for the dictionary, he noticed his son crawling across the floor towards a D20 from last night’s dungeon crawl, and hurried towards him.
I have no idea what the word chrysalis means. To me, it sounds like a bright flower. Purple, perhaps. Then again, english is not my native language, I have a lot to learn. Chrysalis will be my next learning experience.
Chrysalis?… I think of a cocoon for some reason… then I think of a crystallized cocoon… which are both pretty beautiful now that I think of it… Does this have to do with chemistry? Because now that I’m thinking about it… I think it does… Chrysalis…. hmmmm…. Nope. Still thinking of the crystallized cocoon.
It started out looking like a plain thing but turned, before our eyes into this beautiful creature full of light with no hint of it’s former hideousness. voila.
Chrysalis. I bet you expect me to write about change, or at least about bugs. Nope. I just have one thing to say about the word…and it’s that it’s hard to spell. Seriously. I mispelled it five times when I started writing this. Or maybe it’s just hard to touch-type it…I dunno. I had a hard time spelling it. How about you? Can YOU spell “chrysalis?”
I don’t really know what this word means. But it’s pretty. And it starts with a C like in my name. (: Chrysalis. Could be a flower? Or maybe a pretty sound. I can picture a cute baby with this name also. Chrysalis. The more I say it. The more I like it. It’s interesting. Chrysalis. Chrysalis. Chrysalis.
I feel like I’m in the chrysalis stage of my life right now…Not the awkward caterpillar pre-teen/early teenager. Not a beautiful and very grown-up butterfly…
Just a 17 year old stuck inside a stupid shell away from the rest of the world. Everyone else is being productive and I’m just sitting here doing nothing…
“Christ’s sake,” Ben said… I wouldn’t reach a whore of another color right now if we had just not noticed the butterfly effect!
Wendy also had a slug or some sort of worm in her klittle sweaty hand, and as she slowly opened it, ourt ran a thick tacky little rivulet of green slime.
“Yuckers,” cried Wendy, wiping the slime on her speedo.
chrysalis was a tiny girl, with a huge name. her mother found the name in a book of flowers or some flowery book, chrysalis wasn’t quite certain, all she was certain of was she hated her name. “can you spell that please, her entire life of 10 years, those words were her worst nightmare. little tiny chrysalis, red as fire, standing there for all to snicker at, spelling out her name, the humility.
a learning experience fueled by too much alcohol and the wrong friends. watch out for wolves, its a sheep’s life for most. but momma raised goats not sheep and these rocks are crumbling with moss and peroxide. Fill the syringe and clean the corners.
there is a butterfly here, but it has not yet been born. i hope it will finish growing safely in the rain and windy weather, that birds don’t find it too soon, and that the branch does not break. i hope it emerges with beautiful wings and elegant antennae. i hope it survives.
Chrysalis hanging on a tree. Vulnerable, shiny, swaying in the breeze. Jig-jagging in the wind. Sticky string holds it on. No, I will not talk about me or any person as a thing to be reborn as a butterfly all fresh and free. No, this is it my friend.
There was a butterfly emerging from that chrysalis. It had survived a long and dark time inside its small shell and finally got to emerge. It spread its wings triumphantly and let them dry. Soon it started to wonder why it even bothered at all.
Enchambered in jewel, green blindness.
I’m see fom within my star, and the world pries it open.
It is not the only green, after all.
Verdure. Birth. Rebirth.
Returing home, and leaving it at once.
I immediately think of a butterfly when i see the word chrysalis. not a beautiful thing, the butterfly, but more like the crystally scene in the ALIEN movie… where the soldiers are stuck in the pods that are attached to the wall… and they try to get out. That’s basically what I think about when I see the word Chrysalis.
caterpillars grow out of chrysalis’s so silver and beautiful and round. so temporary and fragile. so weird. like the silky poo of a caterpillar. like sleeping in a bed made of poo. i was younger once and i used to hide in sleeping bags pretending they were a cocoon. it was so much fun. i would get sheets to be my wings. my brothers played too. life was so much simpler then.
I once made a piece of artwork called Chrysalis dawn. It was an abstract piece made in Inkscape, mostly for my own amusement. I recall having some sort of idea that I could later use it in a board game, or possibly a comic. It’s not really clear to me which of these I was thinking. I love the word, it combines the best of flowers and crystals. Combine it with dawn and you have something beautiful.
the crystal tomb of the archaic butterfly entrapped the small creature, ensuring no small amount of outside effluent could enter the chamber. This resting place held the creature in it’s ancient cradle, allowing for moisture to seep out, but nothing more to escape.
this is a book that was written many years ago. It was in the curriculum for many high schools English programs. I believe this was an interesting book.
She was becoming new. Again. Undaunted by change and challenge, she was a chrysalis unfolding–a burgeoning wonder in a new world of her own making . . .
An amazing flower that I couldn’t spell in English class. Goodness, there are many better flowers out there… It is a flower, right? Oh well, I’m pretty sure it is.
And within the darkness of what I thought was my mind, I felt a warm circle about my body. But it wasn’t just the warmth that was so inviting. It was the promise of change. The promise that someday, I would be different. Someday, I would look back upon this day and see that I was just broken, that I just needed this cocoon to save me and make me and fix me all up to what I wanted to be. And at some point in time, I would be grateful to the things that changed me.
open to new world and ways of life and love
no one can tell me how to live
or breathe
or sleep
or dream
blindness gone
colours are new
and grey is old
take me
away please
my wings
The butterfly was so sad one morning.
Its chrysalis was on the ground, a thousand feet below from its nest.
Do butterflies even have nests?
Well, anyway, a part of its growth, its life cycle, was discarded as though it meant nothing.
How depressing.
Sounds familiar in a distant sort of way. Anyways it kinda rolls off the tongue. In a silly sense i almost want to sat kirstalis for reasons only my family would get. Anyways that bar is getting red.
Butterflies build a chrysalis when they go through metamorphosis. AFter eating gorging themselves on leaves as caterpillars, they begin to spin a cocoon and wrap themselves in layers of spun fiber to create a chrysalis. Sleeping inside the cozy sack they have made for themselves, they change into butterflies. Grade 3 Science!!
something new and undiscovered, I implore you to become just that thing. A sweet unfolding, a deep and intrisic metamorph. If you could, you would, you’d become that which you’ve envied. She flies, and she emerges and she is radiant.
Dont’ forget and
Change and transformation. The vehicle for the new, the betterment of oneself. Making oneself the realization of their potential.
A chrysalis is a bud opened. Like a flower with its petals unfurling, like people who haven’t realized enough about themselves. It’s a state for organisms to emerge from. I don’t really know what else to say about it besides that.
And as it opened she revealed… a nothing-grey, bald and boring. She wasn’t lucky… about 1 in a thousand turned out shiny-pretty, all pink and orange. The rest; we get to fight the wars and spit on the boots for polish.
“Chrysalis?” he muttered to himself. “I know not that word. Does it have something to do with crystals?”.
Turning towards the bookcase, his eyes scanning for the dictionary, he noticed his son crawling across the floor towards a D20 from last night’s dungeon crawl, and hurried towards him.
I have no idea what the word chrysalis means. To me, it sounds like a bright flower. Purple, perhaps. Then again, english is not my native language, I have a lot to learn. Chrysalis will be my next learning experience.
Crisa lis went to town a ridin on a pony. The beer in the bag, bleary-eyed and smelling of her indulgence.
Chrysalis?… I think of a cocoon for some reason… then I think of a crystallized cocoon… which are both pretty beautiful now that I think of it… Does this have to do with chemistry? Because now that I’m thinking about it… I think it does… Chrysalis…. hmmmm…. Nope. Still thinking of the crystallized cocoon.
It started out looking like a plain thing but turned, before our eyes into this beautiful creature full of light with no hint of it’s former hideousness. voila.
Chrysalis. I bet you expect me to write about change, or at least about bugs. Nope. I just have one thing to say about the word…and it’s that it’s hard to spell. Seriously. I mispelled it five times when I started writing this. Or maybe it’s just hard to touch-type it…I dunno. I had a hard time spelling it. How about you? Can YOU spell “chrysalis?”
I don’t really know what this word means. But it’s pretty. And it starts with a C like in my name. (: Chrysalis. Could be a flower? Or maybe a pretty sound. I can picture a cute baby with this name also. Chrysalis. The more I say it. The more I like it. It’s interesting. Chrysalis. Chrysalis. Chrysalis.
I feel like I’m in the chrysalis stage of my life right now…Not the awkward caterpillar pre-teen/early teenager. Not a beautiful and very grown-up butterfly…
Just a 17 year old stuck inside a stupid shell away from the rest of the world. Everyone else is being productive and I’m just sitting here doing nothing…
“Christ’s sake,” Ben said… I wouldn’t reach a whore of another color right now if we had just not noticed the butterfly effect!
Wendy also had a slug or some sort of worm in her klittle sweaty hand, and as she slowly opened it, ourt ran a thick tacky little rivulet of green slime.
“Yuckers,” cried Wendy, wiping the slime on her speedo.
A form of metaphoraphus.
Butterflies and moths go through it.
Some words seem to roll off the tongue and make the user want to keep on saying it over and over especially since the word can be pronounced correctly
chrysalis was a tiny girl, with a huge name. her mother found the name in a book of flowers or some flowery book, chrysalis wasn’t quite certain, all she was certain of was she hated her name. “can you spell that please, her entire life of 10 years, those words were her worst nightmare. little tiny chrysalis, red as fire, standing there for all to snicker at, spelling out her name, the humility.
I don’t even know what this word means
Chrysalis. Changes. Movement. Metamorphosis. Maturing. Growing.
a learning experience fueled by too much alcohol and the wrong friends. watch out for wolves, its a sheep’s life for most. but momma raised goats not sheep and these rocks are crumbling with moss and peroxide. Fill the syringe and clean the corners.
did mac write anything yet???
there is a butterfly here, but it has not yet been born. i hope it will finish growing safely in the rain and windy weather, that birds don’t find it too soon, and that the branch does not break. i hope it emerges with beautiful wings and elegant antennae. i hope it survives.
Chrysalis hanging on a tree. Vulnerable, shiny, swaying in the breeze. Jig-jagging in the wind. Sticky string holds it on. No, I will not talk about me or any person as a thing to be reborn as a butterfly all fresh and free. No, this is it my friend.
There was a butterfly emerging from that chrysalis. It had survived a long and dark time inside its small shell and finally got to emerge. It spread its wings triumphantly and let them dry. Soon it started to wonder why it even bothered at all.
i am bursting out. i can hear the whisper, urgent against the harsh edge of the chrysalis. waiting is over.
Enchambered in jewel, green blindness.
I’m see fom within my star, and the world pries it open.
It is not the only green, after all.
Verdure. Birth. Rebirth.
Returing home, and leaving it at once.
Chrysalis? Is that really how you spell it? I always thought it was Crysalis. You learn something new everyday, I guess.
I immediately think of a butterfly when i see the word chrysalis. not a beautiful thing, the butterfly, but more like the crystally scene in the ALIEN movie… where the soldiers are stuck in the pods that are attached to the wall… and they try to get out. That’s basically what I think about when I see the word Chrysalis.
Oh my god, CHRYSALIS! How the hell did I get Chrysalis as my word and that dumb girl get frickken table. I hate spelling bees.
caterpillars grow out of chrysalis’s so silver and beautiful and round. so temporary and fragile. so weird. like the silky poo of a caterpillar. like sleeping in a bed made of poo. i was younger once and i used to hide in sleeping bags pretending they were a cocoon. it was so much fun. i would get sheets to be my wings. my brothers played too. life was so much simpler then.
I once made a piece of artwork called Chrysalis dawn. It was an abstract piece made in Inkscape, mostly for my own amusement. I recall having some sort of idea that I could later use it in a board game, or possibly a comic. It’s not really clear to me which of these I was thinking. I love the word, it combines the best of flowers and crystals. Combine it with dawn and you have something beautiful.
how does the little caterpillar dance
a cocoon for one romance
metaphor for the great beyond
death in a chrysalis
the crystal tomb of the archaic butterfly entrapped the small creature, ensuring no small amount of outside effluent could enter the chamber. This resting place held the creature in it’s ancient cradle, allowing for moisture to seep out, but nothing more to escape.
this is a book that was written many years ago. It was in the curriculum for many high schools English programs. I believe this was an interesting book.
She was becoming new. Again. Undaunted by change and challenge, she was a chrysalis unfolding–a burgeoning wonder in a new world of her own making . . .
An amazing flower that I couldn’t spell in English class. Goodness, there are many better flowers out there… It is a flower, right? Oh well, I’m pretty sure it is.
And within the darkness of what I thought was my mind, I felt a warm circle about my body. But it wasn’t just the warmth that was so inviting. It was the promise of change. The promise that someday, I would be different. Someday, I would look back upon this day and see that I was just broken, that I just needed this cocoon to save me and make me and fix me all up to what I wanted to be. And at some point in time, I would be grateful to the things that changed me.
open to new world and ways of life and love
no one can tell me how to live
or breathe
or sleep
or dream
blindness gone
colours are new
and grey is old
take me
away please
my wings
The butterfly was so sad one morning.
Its chrysalis was on the ground, a thousand feet below from its nest.
Do butterflies even have nests?
Well, anyway, a part of its growth, its life cycle, was discarded as though it meant nothing.
How depressing.
Sounds familiar in a distant sort of way. Anyways it kinda rolls off the tongue. In a silly sense i almost want to sat kirstalis for reasons only my family would get. Anyways that bar is getting red.