Picture In Writing- The Celtic Dance Poem by Zachary Clougher

The Celtic Dance

This is the dance of the Celtic queens who wish to earn the favor of the land so they may rule one day.

In the time of day known as the magic hour when all is almost done but never shall be finished. High upon the jagged cliffs in the middle of a rolling storm there is ten fair maidens, nine of which are watching as one performs her dance to rule. There is also a crowd of spectators, humbly knowing that this could be the beginning of the end. Her dance was meant to stay on the sacred ground, or half of what’s left of it. Over time the forces of nature take back and reclaim what is theirs, even the sacred choosing grounds. At this point in time the waves and wind have reclaimed half of the sacred dance floor. All the other noble maidens that did their dance stayed far away from the edge and stuck to solid (if wet) ground. She that is dancing was supposed to venture close to the edge, closer than all the others, but not over it. As the sea crashes with all its might against the cliffs something happens that proclaims that she, the last of the dancers, is the Queen. In the throes of the wild dance her fire red hair comes loose of its tie and flows wildly about her, to the time of the dance that has claims her completely. Her well muscled and toned body is covered in skin that is the white of a perfect and most beautiful lily flower. All over her body appears to be one continuous tattoo of a Celtic vine a very light green color. It is actually her magical and natural armor that shows itself when she is in danger or about to be harmed. This time she wills it into being for the impressive effect it will have on the crowd. Without her knowledge though she dances too far and goes over the edge of the cliff. She doesn’t fall; she dances upon high in the air in front of the astonished crowd. In the air her cloths are torn from her body by a ferocious wind that only touches her and her hair is tossed around her even more. This picture is of that moment. She in mid air, her cloths being torn from her and falling to the water, her hair wildly dancing about, her green vine armor covering her and making her modest even though all is visible, and the astonished crowd as she dances in mid air. In the distance a lightning bolt is frozen it time as well over the horizon of water. Oh and this girl (for she is 16) , the most fair and beautiful of all the maidens, has a name… it is Guinevere.
This picture should be drawn from on high like the view of a bird. The cliffs are on the left side of the page so you can see the top, the side; with the crashing waves, and the stormy horizon. So you can see the crowd of spectators on the land, the long dropp to the jagged rocks in the crashing sea, and the lighting rolling through the clouds and striking land and water all the same. The clouds are a slate gray color except for on the horizon where it fades to the colors of a miraculous red sunset. The rolling waves are full of whitecaps and are the color of cold steel. The spectators are wearing home spun shirts, dear skin pants, and fur coats or cloaks. All are a little worn and dirty. Around them on the cliffs are windblown and stunted trees and shrubbery. Around the dance floor and from where the people came from there is tall waving brown grass and wild wheat. Off in the distance you can see the rain coming across the water for the land.
This is the dance of the Queen. The Celtic Dance.