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alee_grrl posting on behalf of Ellen Million, [livejournal.com profile] ellenmillion

Torn World: Youngest and Oldest
by Ellen Million

She is used to being
the youngest ranger on the trail.

Used to asking the questions,
deferring to the others,
and learning little lessons,

like where to site the latrine,
or how to find the best places to set snares,
and when to give a snow-unicorn its head,
and when to whistle it down.

Always letting the others choose
when and where and what,
because she's the youngest,
and knows the least.

Then suddenly, she's not.

And she's explaining to the next young ranger
where to look for bird eggs,
and how to guy the tent on rocky scrabble,
pointing out the fields that make the best grazing,
and a trick for packing gear.

He's coming to her with his questions,
and she's telling him what to do when they strike camp,
without stopping to wonder herself.

The oldest ranger smiles at her,
when she confesses how odd it feels,
and unexpectedly right.

No one stays youngest forever, he laughs.

Though once you are the oldest,
you are until you die.

Copyright Ellen Million 2012
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[personal profile] poetree_admin
alee_grrl posting on behalf of Ellen Million, [livejournal.com profile] ellenmillion

Torn World: A Wild Wind
by Ellen Million

An innocuous breeze,

Just enough to lift lazy snowy tails
And ruffle along their manes.

Clouds along the horizon,
Gray, but not threatening.

Another gust, more persistent.
Rustling at the tentflap, rattling the poles.

Rangers frown at the sky and test the wind.
Darker clouds, and trees to the south sway.

No smell of rain, but the breeze is tugging now,
Less friendly and more persistent.

Little rest between gusts, the field ripples like water,
Brush bends and sheds autumn-ready leaves to spill
Swirling into air that is alive with noise and chill.

The tent strains at its tie-downs and flaps its walls like giant bats.
The unicorns stop eating as their food comes alive in the wind, and huddle together, looking alarmed.
Whistles to reassure them are ripped from ranger lips, unheard over the whistles in the wind.

The youngest ranger goes to comfort them, held back by an older, wiser hand and shaking head.
Nervous snowies are not safe, no matter how tame they may seem.
A mis-placed giant hoof, an unexpected shuffle, and a ranger loses a friend.
Better to let them stampede, if they will, and hope they don't get far!

Wind bites at uncovered faces, pulling hair from braids and yanking at hoods.
A tent stake gives out and the line is alive like the legends of snakes of the Ancients,
Snapping in the air and drumming against the loose wall of the tent.
Rangers jump to hold it down as another threatens to follow, singing like an instrument.

Trees are bending, howling outrage, somewhere rings the crack of a limb giving out.
Leaves and branches and bits of things sting in ranger faces as they struggle with a failing tent,
And listen to the crash of another tree succumbing to the rages of the storm,
No one has breath to speak, or time, but if they did, they wouldn't mention the Upheaval,
Even if everyone is thinking about it as they give up on the thrashing tent;

Better to let the tent collapse and save it from blowing away, so the poles are dropped,
Regardless of the goods inside, and everything that can be is rolled up and tucked under the giant snowy saddles,
And even those are creaking and rocking like boats in the ferocious wind. The snowies snort and mill, coats rippling like the sea.
A ranger chases a lost fur to the edge of the woods, and nearly falls, turning in the wind with her hard-won prize.
Clouds rage above them, streaming fast through the sky; only the high-up Others are serenely untouched by the chaos.

Huddled together against the biting cold of the wild wind, arms wrapped around goods ill-packed and precious,
Rangers grit their teeth and pull their hoods up tight and put their backs to the wind, bowing heads.
A few of the snowies are rearing in place, crying challenges to the sky that can't be heard over the din,
A few have fled to the forest, seeking unlikely shelter there. The rangers can only watch and think about the task of rounding them up again...

Only to notice a pause in the onslaught.

The wind is back at once, reaffirming its anger and dominance with another crack against the trees that sends them bowing,
And there's a crash as another falls, grabbing at its neighbors with whipping branches and tearing limbs from them.
The youngest ranger tries not to think of a tree falling on one of the snowies - but what are the chances of that?
And it's not like she could stop it, anyway.

The howl of the wind is less angry, and is less hard to stand against, when the rangers finally test it.
They stretch muscles cramped from crouching, and release the valued kit they didn't dare let go of,
Frowning over crushed food and a broken tool. There are leaves in everything, and bits of grit.

The tent is dirty, but whole; it will keep them dry if rain follows the windstorm, though none threatens.
The clouds are parting, chased away by the tailend of the wind like a domestic with a broom.
The rangers split up to recover the snow-unicorns; most of them haven't gone far, and look sheepish,

Grazing as if they hadn't noticed anything,
Twitching the debris tangled in their tails.

Scattered leaves and broken branches
Under a clearing blue sky.

A playful breeze is all that's left.

Copyright Ellen Million 2012
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alee_grrl posting on behalf of Ellen Million, [livejournal.com profile] ellenmillion

Torn World: First Day on the Trail
by Ellen Million

Dawn comes early,
earlier than anyone wants to be up.

The youngest ranger of the group
rolls out of the tent first.

After lying sleepless for too long,
watching early sunlight seep through the seams around the tent;
everything is new and exciting on the trail.

The other two exchange amused smiles
as she stirs the fire,
brews the tea,
fusses over supplies
(her own and all the shared goods),
and helps dismantle the tent,
bouncing from task to task like a chatter.

(And just as noisy.)

They all help milk the snowies,
and groom them.

They strike out much later
than the youngest ranger would have liked,

and move at the ponderous pace of the big beasts they ride.

Though it seems slow,

and they stop.

a lot.

by evening they have traveled the long length of the valley.

The sun is still high when they look back from the foothills,
their campsite from the morning a tiny spot
that the youngest ranger wouldn't know to recognize,
if she hadn't been watching it shrink behind them.

The sun is just caressing the line of the mountains
when they strike a new camp,
though the sky will remain bright
long after it has hidden behind the peaks.

The youngest ranger helps to guy out the tent,
and make the fire,
and hobble the snow-unicorns.
She rolls out the sleeping furs,
gathers up wood,
inspects saddle straps,
and is triumphant in finding a bird's nest with eggs to share.

The snowies are milked again,
and groomed.

They sit around the fire.
Tell tales, and drum a little.

Even the youngest ranger is yawning,

her stomach full of milk and
her head full of stories.

Perhaps tomorrow,
the sun won't wake her,

quite as early.

Copyright Ellen Million 2012
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[personal profile] primeideal
No real crossover today, but the line about black dogs being named Sirius is a nod to Harry Potter and Outernet (children's science fiction humor book series). I suspect there may be others.

Who Let The Dogs Out? )
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[personal profile] primeideal
Following on from yesterday's poem, this installment takes us into the profane world of @MayorEmanuel. This was a fake Twitter account mocking Rahm Emanuel's run for mayor of Chicago, accompanied by his loyal companions, Carl the Intern and Quaxelrod the Duck. At the end of the saga, Rahm was transported into a portal back to the correct timeline, cussing all the way.

All Politics Is Local )
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[personal profile] primeideal
Revolution is a TV series exploring life fifteen years after a worldwide blackout (with numerous flashbacks to the modern day). This poem features spoilers up through the most recent (seventh) episode.

The Shirt Off Her Back )
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[personal profile] primeideal
Numb3rs is a TV show about a pair of brothers, an FBI agent and a math professor, who combine their skills to solve crime. I'm focusing on the academics for this crossover.

Taxicab Geometry )
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[personal profile] primeideal
For the DIY Serial Poetry week, I'm going to do a series of poems in the shared Schrodinger's Heroes universe. Most of them, I think, will be crossovers with other fandoms, feel free to ask for background if anything's unclear or interesting.

Animorphs is a science-fiction book series about a team of five Earthling kids plus one alien who have to defend Earth from an invasion of another alien species. The (()) is replacing the angle brackets for thoughtspeak (if you know the fandom, if not, it's just some different notation to set off alien telepathy in dialogue).

The Tentacle Monster Chronicles )

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[personal profile] poetree_admin
We are changing things up a bit this week. Rather than a scheduled host or series of hosts each taking a day and posting on a theme. We've decided to open the entire week up, and let anyone who wishes to participate in the Challenge the Poet's Tree Week Long Challenge participate without worrying about scheduling limitations. Anyone can post directly to the blog this week so long as those posts answer one of the two challenges. For writer's challenges it is okay to post poems on different days, for example one poem on Tuesday and another on Saturday. You will still qualify. Deadline for the contest is Saturday, November 10, at 11:59 EST.

Full details of the Challenges (including prizes).

Some helpful resources on writing serial poetry were provided a few weeks ago when hosted a wondrously rich week on the topic.

So You Want to Start a Series
How Poet and Audience Build a Series
Structural Considerations in Serial Poetry: Infrastructure
Structural Considerations in Serial Poetry: Foundations

If you can think of more resources other might find helpful, please provide the information in a comment.

We will be using this post to keep track of contributions. So please provide a link to your challenge response in the comments. That way we can have a one stop shopping center for this week's contributions.

Sunday: Climbing the Poet's Tree Week-Long Challenge post

  • Intro post (current post)





poetree_admin: Paper sculpture of bulbuous tree made from strips of book pages (Default)
[personal profile] poetree_admin

This week we're going to allow our challenge to branch out a little. Rather than having individual hosts this week, we are opening things up to community for a week-long challenge. Normally our challenges go up on a Sunday and community members have two weeks to post a comment containing their challenge response itself or a link to that response. For this challenge we will be posting the challenge on Sunday as normal, however, we ask that responses be posted directly to the [community profile] poetree journal. You do not have to request a day. If you write your response on Monday and are ready to post it then, you can. If you write it Tuesday and want to post it Friday, you can. The limits are that your post must be an answer to one of the challenges, though poems for the writer's challenge may be posted on separate days, and your post must be up before 11:59 EDT on Saturday, November 10th.

For Writers:
Challenge #27: Write at least two linked poems. You may create your own series, or, if you have the permission of the author, write a poem for an established series. You must have the permission of the author if you are not writing in a series of your own creation. We do encourage people to play, to riff off each others' posts if others are amenable, and to have a good time with this.

Two open worlds to consider participating are [personal profile] ysabetwordsmith's Schrodinger's Heroes, and Ellen Million's Torn World. If you know of other open worlds that people might like to write two poems for, please provide the information in a comment to this post.

For Readers:
Challenge #28: Write a review of one of the poems posted under the serial poetry tag. Entry needs to be between 1 and 3 paragraphs and should reference how that particular poem fits into or informs the broader picture of the overall series.

This week's prizes:
Since the challenge is a little more difficult the prizes are a bit more substantial. Winner of each challenge gets zir choice of 50 dreamwidth points (the equivalent of a bit more than one month of paid time), 3 icons, or 1 15+ line poem continuing zir series. Icons or poem will be created by one of the admins, [personal profile] alee_grrl or [personal profile] jjhunter.

Details for both challenges )

Note that you do not have to be a member of POETREE, or even Dreamwidth for that matter, to participate. When you complete one of the challenges, please comment at this post with links to your poem or comments; if you complete both, please comment separately for each challenge. Deadline for challenge is Saturday, November 9, 2012 at 11:59 EDT. Winners will be announced on Sunday, November 18, 2012, which would allow our judge a full week to choose a winner.


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