**DISCLAIMER: #126 Magmar, the Spitfire Pokemon, and other related original settings belong to Nintendo/Game Freak.**
*A/N: This is my first Pokemon poem; will still be subject to change for some improvements if possible. Besides R&R, in a kindly way.
THE LIVING TORCH RISES
In the still of the night,
Deep within the cave,
Cinnabar,
Soft rumbles echoing throughout.
Real peril is near...
Heading near,
Hot, Hot,
So hot inside,
Much hotter than Summer's heat,
A glowing red reflected thru these walls,
There is that light in the cave.
This is Hell,
Deep beneath the mountain,
Greater peril is near...
Deep within the cracked mountain,
Cinnabar,
The Island of Red,
There a lake of glowing red and fire,
Bubbling and writhing thru a steady boil.
Here coming from that fiery pit,
A fiery creature,
Clad in boiling red and yellow,
Tainted with flame markings,
With lumps of flaming red in forehead,
Sharp, pointy clawed hands and feet,
Sharp, pointy dorsel spikes,
And a long, majestic, flamed tail,
Arises ashore,
With these feet burning the ground,
Step by step,
Giving off cloud of steam,
Trudge by trudge,
Thru every step.
Upon this burning body,
This living torch,
Those sullen eyes,
With a part-open bill of some fowl,
Growling,
Sneering,
A slow...deep breath,
Heavy breath,
Nearly ghastly,
With much its fury,
Like a slow burn,
Thru a raging inferno,
With spouts of smoke, heat,
Boil out from that billed mouth.
Those eyes lit up,
Body wreath in greater flames,
Like a living bonfire.
Flames of wrath,
Light,
Danger,
Destruction.
Much greater peril is near...
The living torch rises.