Results of the Winter Alliance Contest!

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 :wave: Hello my wonderfully patient Allies! It's time to announce the winners of our Winter Alliance Contest:la:


What is the Alliance, you ask?

The Alliance is a project group intended to encourage visual and literary artists to work together. I've felt for some time that the dA Literature Community can at times be somewhat insular - to its detriment. We in the Lit Community are also sometimes prone to griping about the lack of exposure our work receives when compared to that of visual artists. So in the spirit of ^thorns brilliant Complaint Challenge I thought I would try to do something about that. And so the Alliance was born!

So, I am a very bad Supreme Alliance Queen. I know. Judging took me forever, and I am very sorry. I could make excuses about how I was the only judge, or how I've lost count of how many times I've been sick since they dropped my heath insurance in February, but I don't want to bore you, so I'll just ask for your forgiveness and announce the winners now...:ashamed:

We got a decent number of entries (though this time only had visual-to-lit entries though, so hopefully next contest we'll have more variety), and choosing the winners was not easy. But winners were chosen, and here they are:

:star: First Place :star:

  Dance of the (rainbow) white, rainbowBedecked in white, she came,
Silent footsteps melted as she beckoned;
'To winter cometh thee' said she,                                                              
And taunting, teasing uttered: 'Thou cans't resist me';
Come stay a while in my silent, calm and quiet woods,
Come rest a while, lay your weary head upon my drifts;
I'll crown thee with my flakes,
Resplendent jewels of heaven made;
And finest flutes of old oak trunks I'll play,
Sing a mournful tune of old, with wolves for baritones
And creaking of the branches, under heavy load, for rhythm;
Come Play my love,
Your crown of fire dazzles me, even if it burns,
Your footsteps melt my heart as new shoots upwards strain;
You bring the deer and robins, dear, to chatter in my ear,
And whilst my muse is soft and fragrant linen, yours is water through a prism, dear;
Assembled footsteps, danced together in the round, in the middle met
I'll Play my love, play the game of old;
As all good elves are told, as soon as it gets cold

by ChildoftheBeat

inspired by

  Winterspell by GingerKellyStudio
by GingerKellyStudio

The author really paid attention to capturing the very 
essence of the inspiring image. The words and images are enchanting 
and the rhythm is lyrical and spell-like. This poem is gorgeous 
and magical, just like the image that inspired it.

:star: Second Place :star:

Mists of Luetalse
I was raised to know each slope and crevice of my island, to understand its movements and temperaments. I have bordered the entire circle of rock more than once, getting to know my home as if it were the visage of a close sibling.
My father first took me on the thirty-day journey when I was very young, in the early spring, describing the land as though we were birds in the sky, as I ravenously absorbed the scenery, drawing each detail on a mental map. At that time, our island, which is really the head of a dormant volcano, Mt. Luetalse surrounded by sulfured water, was still half submerged in the surplus of melted ice and scuttled up the cliff-side. We walked carefully on thin, rocky margins between circular pools, seeing clearly the rim of sky along the wall of ashen steam that endlessly escaped the tip of the central mountain.
In the winter however, the steam is visible from everywhere at once; it leaks from cracks in the ground, comes up amidst the half-frozen pools in large bubbles


inspired by


kamalaksh took this fascinating image of a beautiful 
but forbidding land, and created an entire fantasy world 
out of it, with its own unique culture and peoples, complete
with an intriguing guide for a narrator.

In Third Place

Dax bent her head over the tiny dancing flames in her palm, trying to absorb every lick of heat she possibly could. The tongues of fire were small and weak, flickering on the edge of extinction, but she kept them alive through the sheer power of her will.
A particularly cold gust of wind caught her by surprise, breaking her concentration. With a hiss, the flames went out.
“No!” Dax half-shouted, half-groaned. She snapped her fingers, but they didn’t spark. She tried again, desperate for some warmth, but it was hopeless. Between her frustration and the cold, it just wasn’t going to happen.
She ran a hand through her bright red hair and sighed. Practicing frustrated her. She had no idea what she was doing, and trial-and-error was only getting her so far. She couldn’t even keep the fire alive for more than two minutes, and she had a feeling that there was so much more potential locked up inside her, waiting to escape through her fingers.
And then there was Pi


inspired by


I loved how the author took the inspiring image
and created a situation to explain the strange 
predicament of the subjects. So many of the components
of the inspiring image made it into the story, even as
the author spun world of her own around it.

:star: Honorable Mention :star:

by dagoth-jeff

inspired by


Ooh, I love that first line! It drew me in instantly. 
dagoth-jeff captures all the haunting mystery 
of the inspiring image in his poem.

Please check out all of our entries here! Thanks to everyone who entered!

Frost Fern DragonsLeaping lightly across the clear glass, the frost dragon left a cold trail behind as it traversed the distance between itself and another of its kind. Bigger than it, the new frost dragon strengthened briefly, ferns of ice trailing from its head and neck and creeping across the window. The first one faltered, stopping farther away than it would have liked. Frost fern dragons were extremely fragile, the mere mention of heat enough to send them scurrying away, tiny ice creatures leaping over the windowpane.
The bigger dragon studied the smaller one for a moment before allowing its new neck ferns to merge with the rest of its body, ceasing the threatening display of power. The smaller one responded by raising fragile wings and leaping upwards, climbing the slick, vertical, two-dimensional world that was all it knew. The bigger followed, and for a while the two frost fern dragons danced around each other, each rejoicing in the presence of another as they left trails of miniscule ice drople
inspired by  Day 39 by FramedByNature

Heart of IceShe wanted to be the Snow Queen.
None of us could understand it-- we all wanted warm and sun and away-from-here-please, but she wanted to be the Snow Queen. The ruler of the winters we all hated.
She told us this on the ancient playground floored in cracked concrete full of metal swings and metal slides and metal monkey bars, under a flat dark sky that looked more like a far-off roof than clouds, playing with a dead weed the color of wet cardboard that had worked its way through one of the hairline fractures in the cement we stood on, and the only color was our jackets, and even they looked washed out.
One of us asked her why, and she said, "Because everything in winter is gray and brown and dead and ugly-- except snow. Snow is white and blue and pure and beautiful. I want to be able to make it snow."
She always talked like that.
Maybe we didn't understand her. Maybe we didn't want to. Maybe some of us did want to, but were scared to try. And maybe she was lonesome because of it. But s
inspired by  The Snow Queen. by nymphs-and-the-wolf

Until Next SummerThe breath of winter lives on the surface of the water
Hot cold steam that takes a calm respite over the stirring creek
No fish to be welcomed by, no bright copper scales
Just the creek below that moves despite the snow
A vagabond rests his wings at a nearby branch adorned with ice
His brown speckled feathers ruffle from the breeze as he sings
He whistles a tune of relief, shakes his tail feathers
And settles down onto his branch, his cot for the night
The trees and bushes creak from underneath their white burden
Flurries of their cold guest continue to litter atop their bare arms
Like a visitor that has overpacked for their stay
And has in turn overstayed their welcome
Through the bleak mist remain the hot and summer memories of old
Shadow, light and wind tell tall tales of lilacs in the snow
The earth grins a welcome as the sun breaks overhead
But she is fickle and then earth freezes again
inspired by  river view by KariLiimatainen

:thumb343837125: inspired by :thumb291006857:

Our Spring Contest will be announced in a few days! :eager: Also! I WILL be renewing our super-group subscription, so fear not! :squee:

Until next time...

The :iconlit-visual-alliance: Team: :iconladyofgaerdon: :iconevlydia: :iconazizriandaoxrak: :iconquiestinliteris: :iconvigilo:

© 2013 - 2021 LadyofGaerdon
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ChildoftheBeat's avatar
Thank you so much for your very kind comments on my poem. I'm really touched, and I'm glad you liked it :heart: (also apologies for not writing earlier - I often tend to come on here in short-ish bursts).

Once again, thanks to Lauren Kelly Small for her beautiful and inspiring art, and congratulations to all the others :-)
LadyofGaerdon's avatar
You are most welcome. :heart:
Ambiguous-Catharsis's avatar
When will the prizes be given out?
HaveTales-WillTell's avatar
:clap: Congrats all around.
LadyofGaerdon's avatar
Thanks for the support. :)
dagoth-jeff's avatar
Thanks, I had a great time =)
LadyofGaerdon's avatar
Thank you for entering! :)
wordeea's avatar
congratulations to all :)
Ambiguous-Catharsis's avatar
LadyofGaerdon's avatar
You're very welcome! Thank you for your entry!
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