The Red Rider Poem by Jason Pack

In a cloak of flame,
He cannot be tamed.
On his steed ablaze,
He blinds those who gaze.

His sword in it place,
Kills with burning grace.
The bow of embers,
Nothing living remembers.

A shield of heat,
Cannot be beat.
An axe white-hot,
Ruins his enemy's plot.

His whip doth flow,
And burns all below.
A feeling of power,
Sparks fall in showers.

His orange hair,
A signal of despair.
He has no road,
He makes life explode.